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Chapter Text

His sister tells him about Hogwarts at the end of her first year, her dark eyes lit with a never-seen-before spark. She’s unpacking as she does so, taking out dusty tomes with words like “ Potions ” and “ Charms ” written on the cover with a just barely legible font, worn from scratching against the cheap leather of her bag. Mari is not a particularly expressive person, and she’s never been, truly, more prone to bouts of disembodied silence and scrunching up her nose at the food on their old dinner table; which just makes the sporadic excitement dripping from her words all the more befuddling.

Yuuri, in his bubbly astonishment, is sure that Hogwarts will be absolutely brilliant.

After his first few moments of uncontrolled magic (causing his pillows to start floating when he’s bored and doesn’t have any friends to play with; changing the colour of their living room lights to pink because pink is awesome , and other minuscule demonstration of a power he can’t quite get a hang of) he spends the days leading up to August the year he turns eleven unable to sit still. He’s constantly biting his lower lip, jiggling his legs, pulling at his parents’ sleeves to get them to lean down so he can ask them if the owl has come yet. His dad is quite nice about it, reassuring him it will arrive, telling him that he must simply wait. Yuuri’s mom, on the other hand, hears him whining about Scottish birds in the middle of the night and promptly threatens to take away his pork cutlet bowl serving on Saturdays, which works disturbingly well.

The moment he sees the snowy white owl perched on his bedroom window, a rolled-up parchment held carefully in its beak, he jumps up from his bed, an unidentifiable warmth in his chest. Without hesitation, he tears open the waxy red seal, bursting with anticipation, and reads it over and over again before he lets his family see it, let alone touch it.

Yuuri never admits that his fretting and insistence was because he was afraid the letter wouldn’t come. He remembers clearly the day when Yakov visited his family, shortly after Mari got her Hogwarts letter and no one in the house could even make sense of it. Yakov was a tall man who frowned incessantly, but spoke with words tinged with kindness. It was a bit of a shock, for the Katsuki family, to realize there was magic in the world, and even more to accept  the fact that Mari was magic, herself. When she was told, his sister pretended not to care about it, in her usual nonchalant fashion, but all it took was magic jelly beans for her to grow suspiciously interested.

The older wizard took a look at Yuuri, a tiny seven year old boy, chubby, short and completely unremarkable, hiding behind his mom, and said, “Sometimes it runs in the family, you know. Maybe your brother can join you soon.”

With those freely given words, simply just by implying that there existed a chance , miniscule as it may be, one in a million, that Yuuri could be magic , like his sister, could learn with her, could become a part of a whole new world... opened up a different universe for Yuuri. A universe where flying carpets were real , where pictures moved on paper, where his sister could get out of doing the dishes by using her wand (even if she got scolded for it by some strange version of the magical government. It still wasn’t fair that Yuuri had to make his bed.)

So now that Yuuri’s standing in front of Platform 9 ¾, it’s kind of surprising that he’s terrified.

“Maybe I can like, go after the first day,” Yuuri tries to tell his mom, shying away from the intimidatingly solid and pain-inducing red brick wall, “It’s not like the first day is important, anyway.”

“Oh my god, do you even listen to me?” Mari sighs, huffing and crossing her arms over her chest, “Hogwarts’s first day is like, the most important day of your whole school career! You get Sorted, dummy.”

“Right, I’d forgotten that,” Yuuri lies, pulling at the ends of his sleeves and looking down at his feet in an attempt to steel himself. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, “Okay.”

What if I cross that Platform, what if I go to Hogwarts...and it doesn’t want me? What if I’m the worst wizard (I can barely believe I’m a wizard anyway) in my whole year? What if everyone laughs at me because I’m a muggleborn? What if I don’t make any friends, like what happened in elementary? What if -?

“Come on, short stuff,” Mari grabs him by the wrist, rolling her eyes at him, smiling, “Let’s go together, all right?”

Slowly, Yuuri smiles back, struggling to keep his anxiety in check, like his mom always advises, softly touching the back of his neck. He knows it’s not good to panic. It’s Hogwarts ! How can it not be perfect, after everything he’s heard?

Still, his hand goes instinctively to check his pockets, where his instructions for a sudden panic attack are stored, just in case. He really hopes none of the other boys in his year find out.

“On the count of three, okay?” his sister reminds him, waggling her finger at him, “Don’t start running before I say three, or I will make the evil monsters in the Forbidden Forest eat you.”

“Mari,” his mom chides, giving her a pat on the head, “Leave your brother alone.”

“T-there are monsters?!” Yuuri squeaks.

Mari snorts and pulls him by the wrist again, “Don’t worry, kiddo, if you’re good, I’ll protect you. You just make sure you don’t embarrass me, alright? So, yeah, help me grab our bags, and let’s do this.”

“Let’s do this,” Yuuri echoes, slightly disbelieving, “I’m going to do this.”

“Have fun!” his parents call at them, smiling.

He turns, getting a good look. Yuuri knows he’s going to see them again by Christmas; knows that they’re probably going to send him lots of really embarrassing letters, and they’ll mess it up because they still don’t get Owl Post. He’s pretty sure an eleven year old boy shouldn’t be so scared of living without his parents. He’s old now, after all.

Still. He tries to burn the image of his parents into his retinas.

“One,” Mari starts counting, smirking when she sees him jump, startled, “two...three!”

They go.

Yuuri closes his eyes. No matter how many times Mari’s gone through that brick wall before, while he stood there with his parents, waving enthusiastically and grinning, it still feels terrifying when he sees it in front of him, getting closer with each step. His feet clumsily move on his own, one in front of the other, and he holds his breath. A peculiar feeling, like a gust of wind passing by his side, reaches him, just before he starts hearing the unmistakable whistle of an old train, the sound of dozens of people talking and the racketing of suitcases against the ground. He opens his eyes again.

“Wow,” he breathes, stunned, just in time to hear Mari’s soft whisper.

“It’s like a dream, isn’t it?” she smiles at him again, which is actually quite nice. Recently, Mari’s been prone to yelling at him, refusing to let him into her room (even though she’s at Hogwarts all the time so it’s not like she’s using it), and calling him names. Mom says it’s just puberty, and that it will happen to him soon enough, a prospect that he finds absolutely horrifying.

“Yeah,” Yuuri murmurs, not quite sure what to say.

The platform is bubbling with life, wizards and witches ( wizards and witches ) of all ages and backgrounds gathered near the train: parents fussing over school robes, children trying to get away from their parents’ attempts at goodbye kisses, owls and cats yapping away, and Yuuri is so, so terribly lost.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” Mari chirps up suddenly, already moving to go, and Yuuri turns towards her, catching her arm in a vice-like grip.

“You can’t leave me!” he begs, tugging at her,“I’ll like, get kidnapped or something!”

His sister rolls her eyes and shakes off his hand, huffing, “I think you’ll be just fine if you get inside the train. Don’t worry, the only stop is Hogwarts.”

“B-but what if like, a wizard thinks I’m a muggle?”

“Muggles can’t get into this platform,” Mari reminds him, raising an eyebrow, “You should relax a little, Yuuri. Hogwarts is fool proof. And I plan on spending the train ride with my friends.”

As she walks away, dragging her suitcase behind her,  Yuuri sees her cat, perched on top of her shoulder, hissing periodically at nothing in particular. It sort of feels like he’s been abandoned. All around him, families are preparing to say goodbye.

Yuuri clutches his bags tighter to himself, taking care not to shake his owl’s cage too much. She’s a tiny thing, completely black, that he named “Kuro”. He, um, he knows it’s not very original. Yuuri looks up at the train, which seems so incredibly old compared to the ones he takes with his parents, all with plugs for their phone chargers and  windows to see the scenery, equipped with reclinable seats. This train looks almost like something out of a movie, shooting off black smoke overhead, red and black instead of the cool, modern colours he’s used to. The Hogwarts Express .

He steels himself, biting his lower lip, and takes a step forward...

...only to bump into someone who’s moving towards the train already, making Yuuri drop all his bags and fall on his butt, Kuro squawking unhappily. The impact hurts, though he’s more surprised than anything, and a voice calls out, “Merlin, are you okay?”

It’s the person he accidentally crashed with, a girl about his age with short brown hair who’s already wearing the Hogwarts school robes. She’s looking down at him, her eyebrows furrowed in concern, holding out her hand to help him up.

“Um, yeah,” he mumbles, feeling embarrassed but taking her hand, getting to his feet. He’s not even in Hogwarts yet and he’s already messed up, “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it at all!” the girl exclaims, shaking her head enthusiastically, so fast that Yuuri’s kind of worried she’ll get a crick in her neck, “I’m so clumsy that I didn’t even know where I was going!”

“Yuuko, what -?”

Behind the girl, a guy comes up, frowning at them, his eyes narrowing when he sees Yuuri. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at him, “What did you do, jerk?”

“He didn’t do anything , Takeshi!” Yuuko swats at the boy’s arm, sounding upset, “I made him fall! Don’t be so mean or we won’t get any friends!”

“That’s alright,” Takeshi says, looking satisfied and huffing, “I don’t need friends when I’ve already got you. Most first years are going to be annoying, anyway. They’re so immature.”

“ You ’re a first year, Takeshi!”

“Irrelevant.”

“Um,” Yuuri says, clutching Kuro’s cage to his chest, feeling out of place, “I’ll just, um, go now.”

“Nonsense!” Yuuko smiles at him so brightly that he feels something similar to looking directly at the Sun, if the Sun was about his height and carried about twenty pounds of textbooks, judging by how her suitcase almost knocked him out, “You should ride in the train with us! We can get to know each other that way!”

“Um,” Yuuri hesitates, looking the other way, where his sister went off to, but then he turns back, seeing Yuuko and Takeshi both waiting, expectant (albeit if the boy looks slightly reluctant), and he remembers how his sister said, I’m spending the train ride with my friends , so he lets himself smile back, just a little, and mumbles, “Okay.”

…

“Katsuki, Yuuri!” the headmistress, a wiry young woman with a near-crazy look in her eyes called Minako, reads, and oh god .

“Come on, Yuuri,” Yuuko whispers from behind him, giving him a light push and a thumbs up, smiling brightly. Takeshi scowls at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

Easy for you to say , Yuuri thinks, but steps forward all the same, feeling his legs almost as if they’re completely detached from his body, moving robotically. He shuffles awkwardly until he gets to the stool the Headmistress is standing behind, scratching the side of her nose and eating some pretzels with the other hand. After a moment’s hesitation, in which he looks up at her and thinks, Huh, he sits down.

“Right-o, there you go,” the headmistress mutters, dropping the hat unceremoniously on his head, making him wince.

Hoo-hoo-hoo, what do we have here?

Yuuri’s eyes go wide. The Hat is inside his head ! Mari never told him about this!

Ahh, a young’in. Hmm, your sister’s here in the crowd, isn’t she? She’s a Gryffindor, ay, but you’ve got none of the Lion in you. No, you’re a much gentler fellow, even if you have a bit of a spark.There’s only one place for you, Yuuri Katsuki, and that’s -

“HUFFLEPUFF!” the Hat bellows, startling him, and he jumps, looking up at the headmistress. Grumbling, she takes the Hat off, shooing him towards the table with the yellow badger over it. Everyone sitting there is clapping, although most look like they’re bored and just waiting to have dinner (which Yuuri can perfectly understand, after all), so he slowly makes his way there, trying not to fidget with the end of his robe’s sleeves.

“Welcome, welcome!” an older girl smiles at him, and she gestures at another first year boy in front of him, black-haired, “This is Phichit, one of your housemates. I hope you both have a great time at the badger house!”

“If you dare to steal food, I will straight up murder you,” a scary looking teenager threatens them, grabbing his fork like it’s a dagger and pointing it at them, “I do not share.”

“Shut up , Andrew! Don’t scare the first years!”

“I’m Jean Jacques, a transfer student from Canada,” a smiling teenager says, “Ignore the criminals.”

“Hi,” Yuuri mumbles tentatively at Phichit, feeling weirdly out of place, “I’m Yuuri.”

There’s nothing for a some time, the boy looking at him with big dark eyes, his face expressionless. And then his lips stretch in a wide smile, and he cocks his head to the side, beaming at him, “Hi, Yuuri! I’m so excited to start school! Also, I love your name! It’s so fun to say! Yuuuri …”

Somehow, Yuuri realizes as he giggles at Phichit trying to draw out the u’s in his name, hollowing his cheeks and stuffing food into his mouth as he does so, he knows they’re going to be great friends.

…

“Our common room is near the kitchens,” is the first thing they get told when they meet the older Hufflepuffs, and it’s honestly the most important. Certainly the aspect of Hufflepuff life that really seals the deal for Yuuri.

“Food is essential,” Yuuri informs Phichit as they get ready to bed. Hufflepuff’s gotten the least new students this year, their prefect told them, so they’re rooming in twos this year. And they had begged to be roomed together.

“It’s almost as if you two’ve known each other for years instead of a night,” Celestino muttered when he saw them. He’s their Head of House, an Italian guy who likes to wave his arms around a lot and greet ghosts (there are ghosts ) enthusiastically.

“You are so, so right,” Phichit giggles, throwing himself onto his bed, on the other side of the small cozy room, “Ahhhh, I’m so tiiiired.”

Yuuri sits on the edge of his own bed, wondering if Kuro's comfortable in the Owlery, fidgeting and pulling at the edges of his sleeves, “Hey, Phichit?”

“Yeah, Yuuri?” the boy smiles at him.

“I think you’re a really cool roommate,” he mumbles, looking down at his lap, feeling his cheeks heat.

Phichit rolls on the mattress until his stomach is touching it, lifting his head up, “I think you’re a really cool roommate, too, Yuuri.” He pauses. “Wait. I think I left my pajamas back at home.”

Yuuri snickers, “Really? On the first day?”

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious problem! They have baby goats on them! They’re adorable !”

“Hmph,” he hums, letting his back fall onto the bed. He itches to take his robes off and get into more comfortable clothes, but he feels way too lazy to actually do any of that. He kind of just wants to talk to Phichit forever.

While they were shyly making small talk at dinner, the boy told him he was from Thailand, and didn’t even get mad when Yuuri started asking rapid-fire questions about the country, overwhelmingly curious. Apparently, his family moved to England because of his mother’s work, and Phichit got to attend Hogwarts.

“And you learnt English recently?” Yuuri asked, awed, “That’s so impressive.”

Phichit’s chest puffed, proud, “Well, I am a very fast learner. And anyways, you don’t look that British yourself.”

“My family’s from Japan,” he admitted, “I just like the food they make, honestly.”

“ Food ,” Phichit murmured, enchanted, eyes glazing over.

Now that it’s dark outside and it’s finally time to sleep, Yuuri achingly misses his parents. He knows other boys in his class think it’s weird that he’s still so attached to them, but Yuuri desperately needs them. He doesn’t really have that many friends at school back in elementary, so he’s not truly going to miss any of them. But his parents? Who put him to bed every night? Who held his hand after he felt like he was going to throw up from shaking too much? Who tell him how much they love him just before he falls asleep?

He feels homesick, really.

“Yuuri,” Phichit calls from his side of the room, throwing a pillow at him. He catches it by reflex, blinking in surprise at the other boy, “Do you wanna play cards?”

Yuuri’s never played cards with another boy his age before. He doesn’t even know any games.

“...Sure,” he tells his friend , letting himself smile slightly.

Maybe Hogwarts is going to be okay, after all.

…

Their first class the next morning is Potions, which Yuuri is ridiculously excited about. Whenever Mari tries to describe Potions, she always shrugs and tells him it’s quite similar to cooking, only with creepier ingredients and a grumpier teacher.

Yuuri’s pretty sure he’s going to do okay, though, because if there’s something he loves, it’s cooking . Back when Mari was younger, they both spent hours and hours playing together, even if it mostly consisted on him doing whatever his sister requested and following her around, but the year she went to Hogwarts for the whole term, Yuuri felt her absence like a part of his body was missing.

His mother decided that a much-needed distraction was as good reason as any to teach him how to cook. So at seven years old, still too small to properly reach the counters to help her, his mom set him in charge of rolling balls of rice, made him watch the fire if she needed to go out, always reminding him to be careful, taught him where she kept ingredients and how to store them… She was always carefully helping him, her warm hands wrapping around his own, strikingly smaller, her smile gentle as she looked at him. Yuuri still can’t cook by himself, according to mom, but he’s done a lot of cutting and stirring in his life; just enough to feel the smallest thread of confidence wrap around his heart.

Phichit and he go to the Great Hall together, nervously chatting about new classes (“Do you know what Divination is? My book is super weird…”, “I can’t believe there’s a lesson called Flying !”), and have breakfast before checking their schedules.

“Potions is with Slytherins. Apparently it’s in the dungeons? I don’t know what they mean by that, but we should ask.” Yuuri informs his friend diligently.

Phichit rubs at his eyes, letting out a soft yawn, “I s’ppose we’d better head there, then.”

The Potions classroom, Yuuri realizes with a sense of dread, is pretty terrifying. It actually is in the dungeons. The professor is, just as Mari told him, also disturbingly creepy.

“I’m Professor Yakov Feltsman,” the tall, gruff man announces, narrowing his eyes and pointing at them with his wand, “If any of you call me ‘Yakov’ I will use your your eyes in our next potion.”

Yuuri gulps, glancing at Phichit sitting beside him, looking at Professor Feltsman with his relaxed smile on his face. Well, at least he’s not alone here. Phichit has his back, after all.

“Now, first things first,” Feltsman told them, waggling his wand in their faces, “Potions partners are not from the same house. In my class, you work instead of gossipping, is that understood?”

Crap .

“Good,” Feltsman nods approvingly after no one says anything, taking out a huge book that looks about a thousand years old and setting it on his desk, making a loud noise. Yuuri jumps a little, startled. “Now I’ll assign you all partners.”

The Professor starts calling names and matching them. After the first three, Feltsman says, clearing his throat, “Phichit Chulanont, with Michele Crispino.”

“Talk to you later,” Phichit whispers at him with a smile, before leaving.

And then Yuuri’s alone, biting his lip to try to control his nerves. He absently taps his desk with his fingers, looking at the Professor anxiously.

“...Katsuki Yuuri, with Victor Nikiforov,” Feltsman finally gets out, and he even perks up a little at his partner’s name, looking up from his register to supposedly glance at the boy. Actually, the entire class turns to look, which Yuuri finds kind of odd.

Victor Nikiforov is much taller than him, and he’s extraordinarily thin. His hair is caught between a shade of pale blond and light grey, reflecting the dim light that comes from the shimmering flasks in the back of the room, almost the picture-perfect description of what a young wizard should be like. He turns towards Hufflepuff’s side of the classroom when Feltsman says his name, and then icy blue eyes find his.

For a moment, Yuuri can’t breathe.

Nikiforov stands up from where he’s sitting, with a natural grace that makes Yuuri feel like a huge air balloon, his short hair bouncing on his head delicately. The green and silver scarf wrapped around his neck makes him look like an eleven year old model.

“Yuuri, is it?” Victor asks him when he reaches his place, smiling.

“Uh-um, yeah,” Yuuri mumbles, gazing at him dreamily, “I’m Yuuri. You must be Victor.”

“I am,” the Slytherin boy answers dryly, cocking his head to the side, “Want to go to the work bench?”

“Oh, sure,” Yuuri flushes. God, he’s so embarrassing. Staring at someone like that. “Yeah…”

Victor gets safety goggles for him, letting out a small laugh when Yuuri falls over himself trying to thank him, and they go step behind their  huge cauldron (which was one of the things Yuuri felt most excited about while doing his shopping in Diagon Alley, to be honest. A huge cauldron! Like witches have in the stories!).

Feltsman starts writing instructions on the board, with regular chalk (for some reason, Yuuri kind of expected magical chalk to be a thing. Oh well.), giving them short pointers and cocking his head towards the storage room, warning them to never go in alone and always use protective wear.

“A few decades ago, the students didn’t wear gloves,” the Professor huffs in indignation. “Not even labcoats!”

“The 90s were wild,” one of the Slytherins snickers.

During the class, they don’t really do anything. Feltsman informs them that their first real lesson will involve plain water,  and threatens them with taking away house points if they try to make stuff explode without his permission. So Yuuri spends the entire hour peeking at Victor Nikiforov, hiding behind the cauldron. The boy doesn’t talk much; just sits there and stares out the window, ignoring most of Feltsman’s directions.

“Hey,” Yuuri dares to say, after a few minutes, voice low as not to get in trouble, “Maybe we should write this down…?”

“Oh,” Victor blinks in surprise at him, his long fingers wrapped around a long dark brown wand, “Sure, you can take notes.”

Pause. Yuuri doesn’t really want to say anything, but he powers through.  He’s going to make new friends and be more outgoing, he has to. “Aren’t you gonna do it, though? Do you have a really great memory?”

The boy stares at him as if he’s from another planet, “I’m Victor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri stares back, uncomprehending, “Yeah, you have a cool name.”

“No, I mean ,” Victor purses his lips, frowning in confusion, glancing to check if their Professor’s looking at them, “I’m like, Victor Nikiforov .”

“Is this a wizard thing?” Yuuri mumbles, cheeks flushed, gaze falling to his feet, “I’m sorry, I’m a muggleborn.”

“ Oh ,” his partner makes a small noise of understanding, which means yeah, it’s probably a wizard thing. “Oh, sorry. I just.” Victor hesitates, looking at Yuuri strangely, “I’ll take notes,” he says, some seconds later. “Maybe we can...compare them, later?”

“Yeah!” Yuuri grins, enthusiastic.

“Do you two have something interesting to share with the class, Katsuki?” Feltsman’s voice reaches them, and he flushes, embarrassed.

“N-no, sir.”

“Good.”

It’s going to be a long day.

…

The first week of classes passes without much agitation, though Yuuri keeps being amazed at everything magic he manages to do. When Professor Baranovskaya teaches them Wingardium Leviosa and Yuuri’s feather actually levitates , he almost starts crying. Phichit pats him gently on the back, muttering, “There, there.”

Yuuko and Takeshi both ended up in Gryffindor, which they seem excited about.

“We’re having such a great time!” Yuuko tells him, eyes shining, “And Takeshi’s actually studying for once.”

Takeshi mumbles, “Baranovskaya is scary. And Feltsman is our head of house. It’s not fair !”

Yuuri winces at that, “Ouch. Ours is called Celestino. He says ‘Ciao, ciao!’ a lot and steals food from the kitchens.”

“He’s an inspiration to us all,” Phichit yawns, stretching out on the grass. The four of them are outside, taking a break until it’s time to go to their Common Rooms for lights out.

“And Yuuri ,” Yuuko hisses at him, “I heard you got partnered up with Victor Nikiforov in Potions!”

“Here we go,” Takeshi murmurs, sounding pissed.

“Yeah?” Yuuri blinks, resting his head on his knees, “He’s, um,” he blushes, remembering being caught staring, “He’s really cool! And he told me we could study together.”

Silence.

“Um, Yuuri,” Phichit starts, tentatively, but he’s immediately drowned out by Yuuko’s squeal.

“Merlin’s beard, Yuuri! You don’t know who he is, do you?” she asks, sympathetic, “He’s one of the best wizards in the last century ! He’s a magical figure skating champion already! And , if that wasn’t enough, he’s a genius! I heard that he took classes when he was little, and has already completed the Hogwarts curriculum!”

“His family, conveniently, is loaded and completely pureblood,” Takeshi kicks a stone with his shoes, brows furrowing, “I’m sure he’s just a spoiled rich boy, Yuuko.”

“You can’t say that, Takeshi! We haven’t talked to him yet.”

“Not for lack of trying,” her friend comments dryly, “You almost jumped on him in our shared Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.”

“Well,” Yuuko flushes, looking down, “I’m a magical ice skater, and I really wanted to meet him. It’s not because of his looks!”

“Sure,” Takeshi mutters.

“I swear!”

“I didn’t know he was so famous,” Yuuri realizes, embarrassed, “And he probably only said we could study together to be polite. Oh god, he must think I’m so dumb.”

“If he does, then he ’s dumb,” Phichit says loyally, punching him softly, “Don’t be nervous, Yuuri. He’s just a first year, like us, even if he’s supposedly super smart. And he must like you.”

“W-what?” Yuuri’s cheeks heat, “N-no, I don’t think so. Even if I didn’t know he was like, a wizarding celebrity, he’s still...too much. He looks like something out of a magazine! He probably has much cooler friends.”

“I think you’re the coolest friend ever,” Phichit says firmly.

It’s startling.

Yuuri’s never really had any real friends, but he guesses that Phichit’s popular enough to have thousands . He’s handsome, funny, and easy to talk to. Besides, who wouldn’t want to be Phichit’s friend, when the way he smiles at Yuuri makes him feel important ? He was sure that Phichit would still be his friend (he seems way too honourable to abandon him, even if he should) but he wasn’t expecting any sort of praise.

“Thanks,” he smiles, touched. Maybe he won’t be Victor Nikiforov’s best friend, but having Phichit is not settling, at all.

…

Honestly, when Yuuri sees that his next class is ‘Flying’, he freezes.

“A-are we going to really fly?” he asks Phichit, feeling out of place. He’s been noticing stuff lately, in the week they’ve been here, that sound completely natural to half-bloods and purebloods but befuddle him. Things like certain expressions (he’s never going to get used to Yuuko shouting “Merlin!”), the way most of them don’t really look that amazed at magic, but they argue about who’s going to get a difficult spell right first, how they all sound bored during History of Magic, but Yuuri hangs onto every word, astounded. Even Phichit sounds foreign to him, sometimes, in the magical sense, when he talks about magical objects and how he and his family live. He always apologizes profusely after, for not explaining, but Yuuri doesn’t mind.

He just feels a little left out, is all. His family is great, and he wouldn’t change them for anything , but he wishes he’d read a book or something before coming here. It really made the  second conversation with Victor awkward.

“Um, Victor,” he said shyly, “I didn’t know you were like, famous. I-I’m sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it,” his partner said, sounding slightly disappointed. “It was okay.”

“A-and you don’t have to go over notes with me, if you already know the material,” he rushed to add, feeling the urge to run away.

Victor hesitated, his blue eyes flickering up and down Yuuri’s profile. He smiled a little, tentatively, “Can I still do it, anyway?”

“Y-yeah, of course. I’d be really grateful! I’ll study a lot to thank you!”

Phichit stops for a second, “Oh yeah, you mentioned it the first day. Flying is an introductory class to broom riding. Most people suck at it, myself included.”

“You ride a broom ?” Yuuri asks, awed, “Like in the movies?”

“Yes!” Phichit nods happily. Yuuri’s been teaching him some Muggle culture, as well. His friend is fascinated with mobile phones, and has been begging for one all week, despite Yuuri’s hesitant refusals. He doesn’t really know if phones are allowed in the school, actually. “There’s a Quidditch - that’s a sport that’s played on the brooms - tournament at Hogwarts. Each House has a team.”

“Ooh,” Yuuri stares at him, “That is so cool. Mari never tells me about this stuff! She only told me about like, magical bands and stuff! She’s so mean about it when I ask, too.”

Phichit laughs, “Come on, let’s get going.”

They have Flying with the Gryffindor first years, and Yuuri, as expected, sucks at it too.

“Maybe you can try it with a more relaxed tone of voice?” a boy from Gryffindor asks, coming up to help him. “I’m Leo, by the way.”

“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure it’s just lack of talent,” he shrugs. It’s his tenth time trying to get the broom to just go to his hand, but it refuses to lift off the ground. “How are you doing?”

“Um,” Leo smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “I’ve played Quidditch since I was little.”

“That’s so cool ,” Yuuri breathes, “Are you going to join the Gryffindor team?”

“First years aren’t allowed to join,” the boy answers, not sounding particularly upset, “It’s fine, though. I’ll try out next year.” He pauses, and then looks at Yuuri, smiling, “I can help with your broom, if you want. I’m guessing you’re a muggleborn.”

“Is it that obvious?” Yuuri groans, cheeks flushed, “I’m the worst…”

“Nah, you’re just a little behind on things. Don’t worry, you’ll catch up in no time,” Leo smiles at him.

“Leo!” Phichit calls suddenly, walking up to them holding one of the brooms the teacher lent them. “You met Yuuri! He’s my friend!”

Leo nods, “Yeah.”

“You guys know each other?” Yuuri asks, curious.

“We have History of Magic with the Gryffindors, Yuuri,” Phichit reminds him, “Leo was behind us.”

“Oh, right,” Yuuri’s flush deepens, “Sorry!”

“It’s fine. Now, let me teach you the best pose for summoning your broom…”

…

All in all, the fall term goes by  quickly.

Yuuri learns how wacky the Headmistress is when she teaches Transfigurations to the Hufflepuffs, and the way she seems crazily determined to make them all do their best.

“There’s no slacking off in this class, first years!” she likes to say, even though she reads a book that has ‘ Igrumilda and Jonathan’s story: Love Through The Ages ’ while they’re practicing changing a cup into a quill. She also makes them run around the classroom if they get a question wrong. Phichit tells him it’s because she was a famous dancer before coming to Hogwarts.

“T-that doesn’t mean she has to make us do exercise,” he whined at the time, panting.

Potions with Victor continues, the taller boy helping quietly, sending him small smiles. They learn the best time to extract ingredients, how to stir potions, which temperature is the best depending on the brew and elixir, and thousands of other stuff that Yuuri can barely remember. True to his word, he and Victor meet up every two weeks to go over notes during free time, going up to the library. It’s painfully obvious that his partner knows all the material by heart, but he takes the time to walk Yuuri through every step.

At first, he was patient and slightly reserved, almost wound too tightly. But as the weeks go by, he relaxes a little more, teasing Yuuri and playfully bantering with him, making fun of him when he falls asleep without meaning to the days he’s exhausted. Somehow, even though it’s only two hours, and even though everyone stares at them while they’re in the library, muttering about Yuuri behind their backs and squealing at Victor’s presence, it’s one of the things that leaves a warm feeling in Yuuri’s chest, that gets him through the week when he achingly misses his parents.

Mari shows up, once in a while, to smack his head and remind him not to tarnish her reputation. Yuuri, in turn, reminds her to write back to their mom. She mutters about “mama’s boy”. It’s cool.

Leo starts their broom riding lessons with high hopes, and Phichit tags along happily, but it’s terribly clear after the first few that neither Hufflepuff will ever be a famous Quidditch player. So they just turn into lazy afternoons in the Hufflepuff Common Room with Leo hanging out with them, playing Exploding Snap (which is somehow about exploding cards? Magical games are wild). Sometimes Yuuko and Takeshi come by, too, and Yuuko keeps sneaking in mentions of teaching Yuuri magical figure skating (“I think you’d love it, Yuuri!”). Leo satisfies Phichit’s curiosity about smartphones, despite Yuuri’s alarmed warnings, which only intensifies his obsession.

“You both are so lucky,” Phichit whines one day, “Why don’t I get any phones?”

“I could buy you one,” Leo offers, the poor, clueless fool, “My mom’s a muggle, and she wouldn’t mind.”

The boy’s eyes widen, and his voice comes out breathy and awed, “You’d do that?”

“Yeah, sure -”

“I love you, Leo!” Phichit cries out, throwing himself at the Gryffindor and wrapping his arms around his neck, “Yes! A phone !”

Yuuri tries to contain his laughter at Leo’s deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression, awkwardly patting Phichit’s back, “You’ve really done it now.”

He doesn’t tell anyone about his birthday, too embarrassed to do it, really, but apparently Mari ran her mouth, because when he wakes up on November 29th, not only are his parents’ presents stacked by his bed, but Phichit jumps on his bed and throws a wrapped box at him, grinning.

“Happy birthday, Yuuri!” he sings, eyes bright, “You’re old now.”

“I’m not old,” Yuuri mumbles, still not fully awake. His hands sluggishly take the wrapping paper apart, until he sees his present underneath. It’s…

“It’s a Flying Carpet!” Phichit tells him, beaming, “They were banned in Britain up until a few years ago, but new legislation  brought them back! My dad loves them, so I told him to choose a cool one for you. That way, even though we aren’t great at riding brooms, you can still fly a little!”

For a moment, Yuuri doesn’t know what to say. He’s just staring at the carpet (it’s a shimmering mix of the colours blue and purple, entwined together beautifully), heart beating terribly fast. He thinks of how excited he was to fly, when he saw that in their schedule, and how down he felt after he couldn’t even get the broom to come to him. He didn’t think Phichit noticed, but he did. He’s...he’s never gotten a birthday present from a friend before. And he’s certainly never received anything as thought out as this. After a few seconds, he realizes he’s crying.

“T-thank you, Phichit!” he burst out, hugging his friend close, “You’re the best!”

“Awww, Yuuri!”

Leo gives him a Crystal Ball, telling him it was his favourite thing to play with when he was little, and he thinks someone muggleborn would like it.

Yuuko, on her part, buys him magical skates, adding belatedly that Takeshi contributed to the gift.

“You have to learn how to skate, Yuuri,” Yuuko insists, “I think you’d be great at it! And magical skating is really fun! There’s so many colours !”

“I’m pretty sure I’d be just as bad at it as Quidditch,” Yuuri tells her, but takes the gift, because the skates look really cool, and they have little wings at the ankles, “But it sounds fun. Maybe I could see you skating sometime?”

“Yes!” Yuuko cheers, “Takeshi and I go to skating club. It’s gotten so popular since Victor joined. You should come check us out!”

“I’ll think about it,” he promises.

Mari’s gift is some clothes and magical sweets, because she is the best sister.

“You didn’t have to tell everyone about my birthday,” he mutters at her while she ruffles his hair fondly, “It was embarrassing. I’m not nine anymore, Mari.”

“Oh, shut up,” his sister huffs, smiling, “Go and have fun with your friends, dummy. Mom and dad will probably call on your phone later.”

A few days later, when he’s studying Potions with Victor, the other boy suddenly says, sitting up in his chair, “It was your birthday!”

“Um, yeah,” Yuuri smiles a little, “It was really fun.  When’s your birthday? And don’t worry about it, I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Mine is Christmas Day, actually. And still, Yuuri.” Victor looks guilty, “I heard some of your friends mention it this weekend at skating club. Happy belated birthday, Yuuri. I’m sorry  I didn’t get you a present.”

“Are you kidding?” Yuuri mumbles, almost falling asleep. He always gets tired during their lessons, even though he’s ridiculously excited to see Victor every time, “Our studying sessions are already a gift.”

“Oh,” says Victor, blushing pink.

Yuuri realizes what he’s said, and jumps, cheeks flushing, “I m-mean, you help me a lot! Potions is really hard!”

“Okay, Yuuri,” Victor smiles at him. After a few seconds, he adds, quietly, “I like studying with you, too.”

When it’s time for Winter Holidays, he’s surprised to find that, for the first time ever in his entire life, he wants to stay at school instead of going back. He wants to hang out with Leo and Phichit, he wants to make cute cupcakes with Yuuko when the house elves let them into the kitchen, he wants to study in the library with Victor, staring out the window and smiling sheepishly when the other boy notices and smacks his neck without any force behind it. He desperately wants to keep going up to the Gryffindor Common Room to have tea with his sister while she continues to tell him about her weird boy bands, despite his many complaints about it. He wishes he could stay in school, learning about Goblin Wars, making stuff Vanish with the Headmistress cackling with delight in the background, and working on his and Phichit’s Sun model in Astronomy.

But...he misses his parents.

He shares a compartment with all his friends on the way back, although the Gryffindors go see their other friends every couple of hours. Victor stops by, for a few seconds, looking incredibly uncomfortable in front of Phichit, but shyly waving and saying hi to Yuuri before making his way down the corridor.

Yuuri wonders, absently, which are Victor’s friends. He’s never really talked about them with Yuuri, even though he definitely mentions Phichit and Leo a lot, so he’s not sure. He thinks Victor may hang out with Chris and Georgi from Slytherin, from what he’s heard. He’ll ask him after winter break.

Yuuri says goodbye to everyone at the station, promising to Skype Phichit (because otherwise his friend refuses to let go of his arm, gesturing to his new phone, which has gotten him in trouble at least a dozen times already, but with the Headmistress strangely likes), and send texts to the rest. He was too much of a chicken to ask for Victor’s number, but he’s planning on sending him a birthday gift for Christmas.

Mari finds him right before he’s going to walk out of the Platform, and grabs his arm, yawning, “Man, that train ride was long. Ready to go back home?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri smiles at her. “What about you? Excited to be able to make mom buy all of your dumb CDs?”

“You’re such a brat.”

His parents hug them the moment they see him, showering Yuuri and his sister with affectionate kisses and ruffling their hair fondly.

“Yuuri, you’ve grown!” his mom breathes, rubbing his cheek with her gloved hand, “You look so much taller!”

“Yeah, mom,” he mumbles, flushed.

“You’re both getting so old now,” his dad sighs, smiling, “Well, what can you do about it? Now, who wants some hot chocolate?”

…

On Christmas day, right before he’s about to walk down the stairs, he walks sluggishly to where Kuro is, not completely awake yet, attaches the small box he’s clumsily wrapped with a cute blue paper that reminded him of Victor’s eyes, and watches her fly away.

Yuuri bites his lower lip. He hopes his friend likes his present.

He made Victor a bracelet, just a handmade little thing with string and materials he’s got lying around the house. But he likes to add a finishing touch to everything he makes, so he charmed it to say positive things, like “ Good luck with your skating practice! ” and “ Remember to get your stuff and not forget !” or “ You’re doing great, Victor!” .

And yet, Victor’s rich, apparently, and a celebrity. So he probably has many rich, very important friends who buy him really cool stuff. He’ll think Yuuri’s present is dumb, most likely. Well, it’s not like he can do anything about it now.

…

January is a swirl of packing and arriving at Hogwarts once again, carrying his bags with icy wind snapping at his back as they leave the Hogwarts Express. His friends chat about their holidays, their noses tinged with pink because of the cold, while Yuuri stays a little quieter, drinking in the sight of all them together. It’s nice, sometimes, to remember he has friends here. Back home, Phichit, Yuuko, Takeshi and Leo seemed so far from reality, almost imaginary, so much that he’d felt as if he’d made them up, for a while.

“I’m not looking forward to more Astronomy classes,” Phichit groans, “Not after we pissed off the Professor by messing up our Sun model.”

“I didn’t know muggle glue wouldn’t work on magical stuff!” Yuuri whines, “Give me a break, we’ve only just come back to school.”

The Gryffindors just roll their eyes.

When Yuuri sees Victor again after the first few days of class for their first studying session, his friend can barely meet his eyes, looking down at his feet, his pale grey hair covering the upper part of his face.

“Hi, Victor,” he says tentatively, worried he’s messed up. Victor never replied to the letter and present he sent, so he’s not too sure it was welcome, “How was your break?”

“Your present was great,” Victor blurts out, cheeks red, and runs away.

“O-okay,” Yuuri whispers, standing alone in the library. “I’m...glad you liked it?”

“Don’t worry,” Phichit waves him away when Yuuri tells him about his worries regarding Victor, “Nikiforov’s got a flair for the dramatics, if what they say is true. It’ll be back to normal in no time.”

“I hope so. He’s a really good guy,” he sighs, curling up on his bed and getting under the blankets. It’s terribly cold in the Hufflepuff dormitories, even though they’re next to the kitchen and its heater.

“You talk about him as if he’s a marriage prospect,” Phichit teases, and ducks when Yuuri throws a pillow at him.

“Well, you talk about Leo...as if he was your girlfriend!”

“He bought me a phone , Yuuri. We have a bond .”

Yuuri groans, “I’m going to sleep, so you and your phone can be alone together.”

“You’re just jealous because mine is cooler,” his roommate smirks, leaning against the wall next to his bed.

“I really don’t care, Phichit.”

“Denial will only bring you pain.”

Victor doesn’t say anything more about the bracelet, but he always wears it around his left wrist, and sometimes, when he thinks Yuuri isn’t looking, he looks at the words writing themselves on it, and smiles, so tentatively but sincerely that it hurts to even look at it.

…

During Yuuri’s first month back in school, Yuuko finally got him to attend one of her and Takeshi’s magical figure skating practices after promising him help with his Charms homework. The two of them head out to the ice rink on Saturday morning after breakfast in the Great Hall.

“I’m so excited!” she sighs dreamily, “You’ll love it, I’m sure. All of my muggleborn friends think it’s awesome.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Yuuri says, uneasy, “Even if I like it, I’ll probably completely suck at it. I don’t even know how it works !”

“It’s very similar to muggle skating,” Yuuko explains, “In fact, many wizards participate in muggle events, too, since there’s so few of us. The main differences are the skates and wandless magic.”

“Oh,  yeah,” Yuuri scratches the back of his head, “The skates you gave me were a bit weird.”

“They have wings!” she smiles, “And they adapt to the shoe size of whoever is wearing it. I’m pretty sure the blades are slightly charmed, too. The  element that’s most influenced by magic is the artistic part of figure skating.”

“Hmm-hmm,” Yuuri nods, figuring it’s better not to ask. He can begin to see the ice rink set up near the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, a white surface with grey barriers closing it in. Yuuko’s told him that the Headmistress enjoys figure skating herself and summons the rink every weekend.

“Yeah! And anyways…”

… The rink isn’t empty, despite Yuuko mentioning that practice starts a little later.

Victor is skating.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt and loose trousers, strikingly different from the refined robe and perfectly-aligned tie that Yuuri’s used to. He’s got sky blue skates, the same colour as his eyes, and he’s gliding around the ice elegantly, his pose speaking of innate grace in its delicate perfection. His arms are swaying to the flow of a song that’s not even playing, the only sounds coming from the way the blades cut the ice without mercy. His body is moving as if he’s surging and letting go, contracting and relaxing periodically in fluid motions.

Suddenly, as Yuuri’s watching, enraptured, Victor carefully sets one leg behind the other, and jumps , spinning in the air, moving his arms until they're pressed to his chest before extending them, as if he’s balancing on an invisible line. Yuuri lets out a small squeak of surprise. Victor’s only off the ice for a few seconds, so fast that Yuuri can’t quite see what he’s doing, feet and legs blurry in the black clothes against the starkly white ice, until he lands on his right foot, the ice making a soft chipped noise. He raises his left leg at the height of his waist as he rests his weight on his right one, his head pushed back while his chest is slightly tilted forward. Even though it seems incredibly natural, the way Victor tenses in advance speaks volumes of the number of times he must have practiced it. It’s unbelievably thrilling to watch.

“Wow…” Yuuri breathes, staring at him with wide eyes. Did Victor really just do that? He didn’t just imagine it, right?

“Victor!” Yuuko calls, and his friend turns, startled. “Didn’t the Headmistress say you’re only allowed jumps when she’s watching?”

“It’s only a toe loop,” Victor smiles at her, but then freezes, “Y-Yuuri?”

“Oh my god , Victor, that was absolutely amazing !” Yuuri babbles, running until he’s against the grey barriers, “How did you do it?! That’s so crazy! It looked like you were gonna fall! You were flying !”

Victor flushes, but puffs his chest proudly, “Thanks, Yuuri. It’s just a lot of practice.”

“I could practice for hours and still get it wrong,” laments Yuuko, walking up to where Yuuri is, “Victor’s a fountain of talent. What are you doing here so early?”

“I, uh,” Victor looks down at the ice, “I wanted to skate. And I had nothing better to do.”

“It was so cool ,” Yuuri tells him enthusiastically, “Can you do it again? Please?”

“ Yuuri ,” Yuuko scolds him, “Jumps are really difficult. Don’t have him bouncing around all day.”

“Oh,” he says, embarrassed, “Sorry, Victor.”

“It’s f-”

“Well, hello there, everyone,” a familiar voice comes from behind them, and they all turn to see the Headmistress. Yuuri almost does a double take when he sees she’s in athletic clothing . “I see Mr. Nikiforov has decided to start without the rest of us.”

“I still can’t believe you made us get up at this hour, Victor,” Professor Feltsman,  huddled up in a huge coat , says. He walks quickly until he’s next to the Headmistress and glares at Victor, “It’s inhuman.”

“Sorry, Professor,” the boy answers, smiling cheekily.

“And what do we have here?” the Headmistress glances at Yuuri, “A new recruit, Yuuko?”

“I brought him here to see us skate, Headmistress. I’m still trying to convince him to join.”

Takeshi and a few other students (Jean Jacques, a third year Hufflepuff, amongst them) arrive a few minutes later, all carrying a gym bag. They don’t really pay much attention to Yuuri, even though Takeshi whines at Yuuko about leaving for their rink without her. After a few minutes, they start to take out their skates and prepare themselves to get on the ice. Yuuri stands behind the barrier, simply watching, his eyes never leaving Victor’s lithe figure. His friend moves as if he was born skating, seamlessly dancing on the ice, almost, so smooth and flawless that it takes Yuuri’s breath away. Victor does a few more jumps in the two hours they spend there, all coached by Feltsman (who apparently skated in his youth), and every time his feet lift off the ice, in a whirlwind of black clothing, Yuuri cheers. Victor laughs at his enthusiastic praise, waving, his nose tinged pink from the cold.

Somehow, even though Yuuri was resigned to endure figure skating for Yuuko’s sake, time flies.

“Did you have fun?” Yuuko asks him, grinning, when she gets off the ice.

“It was...entertaining,” he admits, blushing, “But I definitely cannot do any of that.”

“I believe in you!” she insists, punching his shoulder playfully, “And I don’t know, but I get a feeling that Victor would like you to learn too, you know.”

“W-what has that got to do with anything?” he stammers, looking at her in confusion, “I’d probably just embarrass myself, anyway. Victor’s way too pro for me.” He sighs.

Yuuko just smiles.

…

Phichit gets caught tweeting in class five times in two weeks. For the first time in Hogwarts history, they make a rule specifically forbidding phones during class hours.

“No one can stop me, Yuuri,” his best friend confides in him when they’re studying together in their room, each one on their respective beds, “They can try to cage me, but I am free .”

“You could just, you know, tweet later,” Yuuri tries, “That way we won’t get so many House points taken away. Jean Jacques has started twitching every time he sees your phone.”

“Hmph,” Phichit huffs, “I don’t believe in the system.”

Yuuri makes sure to shake his head disapprovingly every time he sees him use the smartphone in History of Magic.

In February, Victor and he make their first potion: The Cure for Boils, which Yuuri is ridiculously excited about.

“I know it’s really simple, but I’ve never done this before,” Yuuri says, sheepishly, “Sorry if I mess it up, though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Victor smiles at him, “If you mess it up, I’ll make you drink it so you can get boils.”

“That’s so unfair, Victor!”

They add the crushed snake fangs, his partner snorting when Yuuri can’t bring himself to look at the mortar as he smashes them to pieces. After that, they’ve just have to let it brew for some minutes, so Feltsman arranged for them to have two hours of Potions, one before and one after the break. When they come back, Victor adds the horned slugs.

“Only one ingredient left!” Yuuri cheers, and moves to finish it with the porcupine quills.

“Wait!” Victor grabs the sleeve of his robe, pulling slightly, making Yuuri trip a bit until he almost crashes against Victor’s chest. “Um, you have to take it off the fire first.”

“Oh, right,” Yuuri flushes, mortified. He should know that; he’s been staring at the instructions for the last two hours. Quickly, he shuffles his feet until there’s a little more distance between them. “Thanks.”

“N-no problem,” Victor mumbles.

The Cure for Boils turns out perfect. Pink smoke is swirling over the cauldron just as it should be, even if it’s mostly because Victor carefully monitors everything Yuuri does. They get full marks. Actually, Yuuri’s been getting top marks in Potions since the beginning of the year, thanks to his constant note-taking, but he never stops asking for the study lessons.

…

Yuuri doesn’t really realize it’s Valentine’s Day until Leo goes to sit behind them in History of Magic holding a fluffy pink card, while Celestino goes on and on about the early 13th century.

“What’s that?” he nods at him, curious.

“It’s a Valentine’s Day card,” Leo murmurs, checking to see that their Professor isn’t looking at them, “A Ravenclaw girl gave it to me. It was really awkward.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day?” Yuuri cocks his head.

Phichit chuckles, hiding his phone in a pocket inside his robe, “Aww, Yuuri. Yeah, it is. I bet your friend has gathered a crowd today.”

He wrinkles his nose, “Yuuko?”

“Victor,” his roommate clears up, rolling his eyes, “Every girl in first year likes him, apparently. I still think his hair looks a bit weird, since it’s grey.”

“I like his hair,” Yuuri defends him loyally, “It gives him character.”

Celestino continues talking about the early History of the Hogwarts Castle, so they all stop talking and pay attention, mindful to get their notes sorted out before their Professor hands out another surprise exam.

Yuuri doesn’t think much about the holiday after that; he knows no girl likes him, so he doesn’t really expect anything. When he meets Victor for their Potions study session that afternoon, though, he’s astonished to find the library table overflowing with gifts.

There’s boxes of chocolates, flowers, cards, plushies of different cute animals, scented candles, bags of sweets, pink notebooks with swirly handwriting on the front… all piled up next to Victor’s seat. The boy looks terribly uncomfortable, looking down at his Potions notes and ignoring the swarm of girls staring and pointing at him, giggling behind their hands.

“Hey,” Yuuri greets him, hesitant. Victor’s shoulders are taut with tension, his knuckles white around his quill, “Wanna come to study at the Hufflepuff Common Room?”

For a second, Victor looks startled, glancing up from his book to set his eyes on Yuuri, mouth open slightly in surprise.Shortly after, he nods quickly, gathering up all of his things. Just as they’re about to leave, Victor looks back at his batch of Valentine’s Day gifts and mutters a spell under his breath, shaking his wand. They all disappear.

“Whoa,” Yuuri breathes, awed, “Where are they now?”

“In my room,” Victor mumbles, as they walk down towards the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room, “I don’t want them, anyway.”

“But it’s chocolate ,” Yuuri frowns, confused, “Why wouldn’t you want chocolate? It’s the best thing ever!”

His friend turns towards him slightly, lips pursed, “I don’t like sweets that much. I’m an athlete, after all.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, feeling dumb. “Right. Yeah, you’re really slim. Um.”

Not like me , he thinks, unable to help glancing down at himself. He looks ridiculous, standing next to Victor, tall and thin, while he resembles a circle shape more than anything else.

“W-we can eat chocolate, if you want,” Victor blurts out, just as they get to the entrance to Hufflepuff, “It’s fine if I skip my diet for one day. Yakov always tells me to have fun, anyways.”

“No, you don’t have to,” Yuuri mumbles, opening the door to the Common Room. He nods at Phichit, lounging in the sofa taking funny pictures of Leo, who’s trying to cover himself with a pillow, “I won’t make you.”

“I want to eat chocolate, though,” his friend insists, grabbing Yuuri’s wrist suddenly. He turns. Victor’s icy blue eyes are determined, and his lips are set in a thin white line, “Would you eat chocolate with me, Yuuri?”

“...I guess,” he whispers, feeling something warm in his chest. “I mean, if you really want to.”

“I do,” Victor says, determined. “Let’s eat chocolate, Yuuri.”

They don’t study that afternoon. They just hang around in Yuuri’s bedroom, sit on the floor, play Wizarding Chess, and stuff their faces. Victor makes a mess with the chocolate, even getting pieces of the confection in his hair and on Kuro’s fur, causing her to scratch him, which makes Yuuri laugh so hard he almost can’t breathe. His friend whines at him laughing, but he doesn’t seem to mind that much. All in all, Yuuri doesn’t get any presents on Valentine’s Day, but it still feels like a gift.

…

Exams and the Easter holidays arrive almost hand-in-hand, which is hell. Yuuri’s parents send him encouraging letters, telling him to ‘focus on his studies!’, while Mari begs him not to say that she’s failing Charms.

Whenever Yuuri gets too stressed, he goes to figure skating practice and simply watches . It’s unbelievable how completely relaxing it is to observe the kids in the school smoothly glide their way around the ice. Victor, as always, is flawless. Somehow, it seems like he was born to be on the ice, from the way every shade of colour in his body compliments the pale light of the rink, to the expression of absolute and undeniable joy he gets when he sets a foot into the ice, how he softens slightly, as if he can truly relax there. Yuuri doesn’t know too much about skating, even though he’s picking up on a few things from talking to the Professors while he hangs out at the rink. He’s still in dark about most things, but he knows enough to realize that there’s magic in the way Victor skates, and it has nothing to do with wands.

Amusingly, Victor seems to enjoy Yuuri watching him, even showing off a bit when Yuuri’s there. He even demonstrates the Salchow jump to Yuuri, and preens when he claps enthusiastically.

Studying at the library becomes Yuuri’s way of life, carrying tonnes of books around in his bag. Phichit joins him sometimes, sticking his tongue out as he studies, highlighting the most important passages. Leo, on the other hand, just says, “I don’t like studying.” and aces all of his subjects.

“Some people deserve to burn,” Takeshi mutters, grumbling, and for once, Yuuri agrees with him.

In the end, he passes every subject, even Flying (thanks to Leo’s advice, to be honest). He even gets top marks in Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts, despite the fact that he has to stare at Professor Baranovskaya while he does his practical exam.

“If this is mid term,” Yuuri whines, “I will die at finals.”

Yuuko rubs his arm reassuringly, “There, there.”

Mari decides to stay for the Easter holidays this year, for the first time since she started school at Hogwarts, which Yuuri doesn’t quite know how to feel about. She says it’s because some of her friends can’t go home and she doesn’t want them to be alone in the castle. Still.

Yuuri’s never been chocolate egg hunting without his sister, since his parents consider it too Western to celebrate all of them together. This year, he won’t go at all.

He rides the train back with Phichit and the Gryffindors again, saying goodbye to Victor before they get on the Hogwarts Express.

“Eat lots of chocolate!” he tells him, smiling. He’s going to miss Victor, this few weeks. “Do it for me!”

His friend rolls his eyes, “So demanding. Would you do extra Potions work if I asked you?”

“For a true friend?” he punches him on the shoulder softly, “Sure!”

“Weirdo,” Victor mumbles, but he sounds pleased.

…

During Easter, while he’s playing around with the flying carpet in his room (a flying carpet is much less entertaining when he’s got orders from Phichit not to fly anywhere with it in case of muggles seeing him, but it still rocks), he remembers his other present.

Yuuri hesitates, for a moment, but then he slowly walks towards his wardrobe, crouching to get the the compartments where he keeps his footwear, and takes out his magical skates.

They’re a shade between grey and very dark blue, with black laces tied at the centre. The small white wings, which shocked Yuuri so much when he saw them for the first time, are fluttering softly, as if half-asleep.

He stares at them. He leaves them back on their drawer.

Takes them out again.

Stares at them some more.

Looks down at himself, at his unathletic, pork-cutlet-bowl-loving body.

He quickly shoves them in the wardrobe again.

But the next morning, during breakfast with his parents, Yuuri remembers how Victor lights up every time he’s on the ice like he’s flying rather than skating. He thinks of the way Yuuko still hasn’t given up on him, reluctant as he is, dropping hints whenever she gets a chance.

Something inside him stirs, waiting to awaken.

…

The first exciting thing they do when they come back from break is go exploring to collect Flobberworms.

“I can’t wait to catch a magical worm ,” Yuuri breathes, just as they’re getting ready to head out.

“ We won’t be catching them,” Victor reminds him, rolling his eyes, “It’s the third years that actually get to do that. We just stand around and point.”

“The school system is so unfair.”

Yuuri and Victor overshadow Jean Jacques and his Hufflepuff Potions partner for the day, crouching on the ground and showing the Third Years where to get them. Every time Yuuri sees one, he jumps, yelping, and proceeds to clutch at Victor for the next five minutes.

“They’re just so cool ,” Yuuri marvels at the brown worms. They look like a living, herbivorous croissant. “I want to keep one, Victor. Won’t you get me a Flobberworm?”

“You already have Kuro,” Victor laughs, ruffling his hair and ignoring his protests at the gesture, “Besides, you’d get bored of it after a while.”

“Lies and slander, Nikiforov. Flobberworms are the best. I can’t believe you’d say that.”

They all go back into the Potions classroom to get the mucus out of the collected worms, even if it makes Yuuri tear up a little when they have to squeeze the poor things to get it. Victor, fulfilling his role as Best Potions Partner Ever, pats his back reassuringly.

In the middle of April, Yuuri and the Gryffindors throw Phichit a surprise party for his birthday.

They get all his Ravenclaw friends to come, and even some older Hufflepuffs, like Jean Jacques, mostly through advertising the fact that the house elves like Phichit, so they’re making unbelievable amounts of delicious food. Yuuri sets up his phone as a stereo, Leo brings so many paper cups  that it’s difficult to count them, and says, “It’s an American thing, don’t ask.”

Yuuri tries to invite Victor, but the Slytherin declines, “...I don’t really know most of the people going.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines, pleading, “You’re a cool guy! I bet everyone would love to meet you.”

“Yeah,” says Victor, not sounding excited at all, “Still, I’d rather stay studying. Sorry, Yuuri.”

All in all, it’s a pretty great party, judging by the way Phichit starts to cry and proceeds to hug every single person at the party.

“You are a beautiful iPhone,” he whispers in Yuuri’s ears when it’s his turn, “ Thank you .”

…

In May, after they harvest Kelp plants in the Black Lake for Herbology, Yuuri attempts to make Kelp facial cream using Leo  (when his sister immediately shoots him down) as his test subject, because he’s too easily convinced.

It doesn’t do much for his skin, but the Gryffindor walks around with a slightly greenish tinge on his face for the whole month. Leo ignores his babbled apologies, waving it away with one of his usual calm smiles, “It’s fine. It’s like what you said about Victor’s hair: it gives me character , right?”

He blushes, “Y-yeah. Still, don’t ever let me convince you to do this stuff again.”

Leo grins, “You can try it on Takeshi, next time. That’d be fun to see.”

Spring in Scotland is just as wet as the rest of the year, but the Sun comes out every couple of days, blessing them all with a few hours of lying on the ground while reluctantly filling out their Astronomy worksheets. Phichit likes to tear blades of grass and throw them into people’s laps whenever he’s bored, which is most of the time.

Yuuri and Mari go on a picnic together, on a day where she says she’s “feeling sisterly”, even though Yuuri knows full well that one of her friends cancelled their trip to Hogsmeade at the last minute. They walk up to the Great Lake together, messing around with their wands, trying to trip each other up and running away before the other manages to do the same to them. Yuuri always has the advantage in these kind of challenges, because Mari becomes absolutely useless without her wand, while he can properly hold his own empty-handed.

Their lunch drags on for hours, encompassing the entire afternoon, licking their fingers clean after having desserts from the kitchens and letting the hours go by as they talk about anything they can think of.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Mari mumbles at one point, her face pressed against the picnic blanket, fingers curling around his robe, “I’m glad you’re making friends here, even if they’re annoying.”

Yuuri grins, burrowing closer to her and curling against her side. He’s reminded of the time when they were both little and used to sleep in the same bed all the time, “Thanks, Mari.”

“You’re a nerd,” his sister sighs sleepily, and hugs him close to her.

…

June is midterms all over again, except this time it’s happening .

Phichit teaches him some breathing exercises before exam week, so expertly and smoothly that Yuuri asks him if he’s been doing them since he was little. His roommate cheerfully informs him that he found them on WikiHow ten minutes ago.

“The Internet is amazing , Yuuri!” Phichit breathes, clutching at the front of his robes, “I don’t think you understand how great it is!”

“L-let go of me, Phichit!”

Yuuri figures that he shouldn’t question something that works, so he spends his free time at the ice rink. Despite what he thought would happen during finals (which was that skating practices would be cancelled), the kids in school seem almost even more eager to let out some steam, endlessly repeating what Feltsman teaches them. Victor goes up to Yuuri sometimes, when he’s trying to recall the name of a planet for his Astronomy notes, and gets him to talk to a human being for some time, poking at his head with his cold fingers, making funny faces and dramatic reenactments of wizarding soap operas on the ice, which never fails to bring Yuuri to tears with laughter.

Yuuko, the angel that she is, teaches him a hot cocoa spell. Even though he gets weird looks for drinking hot beverages in June, Yuuri enjoys the heck out of it.

It’s not after he’s done with exams and he still hangs out at the rink, when he’s less distracted by yellowing parchment and strange Latin words, that he notices the Headmistress watching him.

She’s not always at the rink, since she has many responsibilities, apparently (Yuuri has yet to see her doing anything except teach them Transfigurations) but she seems to enjoy it greatly. He’s always thought the Headmistress to be young, but it never shows as much as when she’s hooting at some fifth year for performing a particularly impressive spin, or the way she cackles at Feltsman’s exasperated frown after Victor cheekily ignores all his instructions.

Yuuri notices her considering gaze on him after a few days, the thoughtful tilt of her chin when she looks at him, the sly curl of her lips. He thinks about asking if he should leave, if he’s bothering the skaters or riling Victor up too much, when Feltsman always whines about how difficult he is, but he doesn’t dare. The Headmistress, on her part, doesn’t say anything to him.

The last day of classes, after they get their reports card (Yuuri again passes all his subjects, thank god), right before he’s hurrying from the second floor to downstairs to get his stuff and head towards the train, the Headmistress asks him to wait for a moment.

“Um, sure,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “Is there something I did wrong, Headmistress?”

She doesn’t speak for a few moments, expression completely blank. Yuuri’s never really thought the Headmistress to be uptight and super orderly. Even her appearance defies expectations: her hair is tied in a bun, but there’s strands of brown hair falling around her shoulders, messy and unrefined and she likes to wear jeans under her black robes, strangely enough.

The Headmistress grins suddenly, her eyes lighting up, and she leans down until their gazes line up with each other perfectly. Her voice is soft but determined as she asks, “Yuuri, would you like to learn ballet?”

…

Victor’s sitting on an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

He sighs at the familiar scenery, letting his body slouch against the huge seats, strands of grey hair getting into his eyes. Victor takes out one of his favourite novels from his book bag, letting his fingers trace over the familiar edges of the cover, feel the worn corners and the tattered spine.

Just before he begins to read, he thinks of Yuuri Katsuki.

He was inside the compartment with his friends again, not that it’s surprising by now, smiling and laughing. He looked up when Victor passed them, shyly going in to mutter a quiet, “Hello,” and wished him happy holidays. Yuuri even offered him a seat in the compartment, “even though I’m sure you have your fan club waiting for you, cool guy!”

Victor bites his lip.

Maybe one day he’ll be brave enough to step in.

For now, he opens his novel, enjoying the way every thought in his mind becomes muffled at the sight of printed words, and loses himself.

Chapter Text

Yuuri’s first summer as a wizard is marked by two things which never touched his life before: ballet, and Phichit Chulanont (not necessarily in that order).

His idea of summer before was mostly comprised of a myriad of days where he and Mari could do everything they wished to. Although, they aren’t extremely close, that hasn’t stopped them from having fun together, in any way they could find. Neither of them really know their extended family, who still live in Japan, only truly seeing them for the holidays every couple of years, and their parents took a few years building up a network of friends in the area, so they’re used to being on their own.

When Mari came back from Hogwarts that summer, years ago, she suddenly had friends that she wanted to see every day. His sister still hung out with him, of course, because Mari is nothing if not fiercely loyal, but it wasn’t the same. Yuuri, who spent that entire year waiting for her to come home so everything would be as it always was, felt achingly alone.

Mom and Dad were as wonderful as ever, of course. Yuuri’s almost certain that he grew incredibly closer to his parents in those short, warm months. Apart from the things they all did together, he also knew them a little better as individuals. His dad helped Yuuri build a thousand piece puzzles, despite Mari’s protests at placing their ongoing project in the corridor, and taught him useful things that Yuuri still uses today like: always start with the corners.

His mom, alternatively, decided to stop drilling him in kitchen knowledge, and attempted to get him to learn basic Japanese. The thing Yuuri remembers most about those quiet, informal classes in the living room, once everyone cleared out, is the stories about Japan his mom told him, her voice soft, the memories that she shared without holding anything back. Sometimes, Yuuri thinks about that summer, and he desperately wants to visit his home country, even though he barely remembers anything about it.

So it’s quite a surprise that his summer back from school, instead of consisting in him being the most popular guy in the house and spending all his time ‘chilling’ with his pals, is basically him going to ballet practice until he can’t stand.

When the Headmistress first asks him if he wants to learn ballet., Yuuri’s not quite sure what to think, exactly. He can’t think of any reason why she posed the question, given that he’s never thought about ballet in his life. He’s certainly never mentioned it to the Headmistress, at least.

“I’ve seen you watching ice skating practices,” she tells him, standing in the Hogwarts corridor, her lips curling into a knowing smirk as he flushes and ducks his head, “Well, mostly watching that Russian prince prance around with his expensive skates and an attitude problem. But I figured you were interested.”

“So you thought I should do...ballet?”

He’s not quite getting this. If it turns out to be another muggleborn thing, Yuuri’s had it. He’s going to the nearest magical library just for the sole purpose of memorizing every single aspect of wizarding culture. Phichit will not fool him again talking about kissing frogs; once was humiliating enough.

The Headmistress rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down at him with something resembling pity, “You think your boy Victor got on the ice and started hopping around like a hare? He would’ve broken his skull already, and the school would’ve been one celebrity short.”

Her eyes narrow with intention, so focused on him that it’s actually slightly intimidating. The Headmistress leans down again until she grabs his chin with her right hand, her manicured fingernails holding him in place, “If you want to stay on the ice, Yuuri, if you want to jump on it, you need a strong core. You also , require a neutral spine, which I’m certain eleven year olds don’t practice much these days. Having the right posture is the key to not, let’s say, breaking your leg when you jump.”

Yuuri stares at her in horror, holding his leather book bag up, pressing it against his chest, “That can happen?”

“It can ,” the Headmistress says gravely, nodding her head, “if you don’t do ballet .” The corners of her lip turn upwards, “It will do you good, young padawan.”

“What’s a ‘padawan’, Headmistress?”

“ Dear god .”

The Headmistress’s expression softens when she sees him frown in confusion, “Look, Katsuki, you’re not signing a contract. We can have a few classes before you decide anything. Maybe you’ll even enjoy ballet, you know.” She grins, “It was once my entire life, boy; I’m fairly certain I can make you care about it.”

Yuuri hesitates, biting his lower lip. ...Would a few classes truly do any harm? He can do that, right? He can quit whenever he wants to, after all.

“... Okay.”

The Headmistress informs him that she doesn’t spend her summers at Hogwarts, because the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, Professor Baranovskaya, is, in her own words “much more capable of maintaining that headache-inducing castle than I will ever be.” It occurs to Yuuri, maybe a bit belatedly, that she is not a conventional Headmistress. She gives him her number (which, apparently she has a phone? Phichit probably has her number already, if Yuuri knows him at all), and has an hour long talk with his parents the day after he arrives home. Mom and Dad don’t seem to have any problems with him learning ballet, but they do ask him to always be carrying his mobile in case he gets lost (“or kidnapped,” Mari adds unhelpfully, which starts up another round of discussion).

It’s not until he’s actually in class with the Headmistress (“Call me Minako, I’m your ballet instructor, you’re going to hate me soon enough, so my first name is fine.”) that he learns just what a mistake that is.

“What in the hell are you wearing ?” Minako screeches at him, waving her arms around.

He’s just Flooed to her studio from a small wizarding shop next to his home, after reassuring his parents that he would not, in fact, burn to death. They’re still weird about things like that. To be honest, Yuuri still thought Mari was trying to trick him when she told him about Floo powder a few years ago; it’s quite a surreal concept, that magical powder can transport a wizard to other magical chimneys, but not if their pronunciation is incorrect. Sometimes the wizarding world still surprises him. He desperately hopes he never messes up the Headmistress’s address and ends up in Zimbabwe, or something.

“Um,” Yuuri looks down at his hoodie and sweatpants. It’s what he usually takes to gym class, and he used it every week last year. He glances at his instructor-to-be, confused. The Headmistress herself is wearing leggings and a top, with a thin jacket wrapped around her shoulders, her long hair up in her characteristic messy bun. “Sports clothes?”

“I can’t believe the education failed us this much,” Minako sighs, pressing the back of her palm to her forehead dramatically.

“You are the education system, Headmistress.”

“I want none of your sass, sweatpants boy.”

She wrinkles her nose and announces she’s going to bring him proper clothing for a ballet lesson. While she’s out, Yuuri takes the time to properly take a look at the studio.

Minako told him that she was a ballerina until recently, so she has her own studio inside her Muggle apartment, located in the outskirts of London. The room he’s in is almost five times the size of Yuuri’s bedroom, spacious and completely empty, with polished sheeny wooden floors. All the light comes in through tall, wide windows facing the East, bathing the room in bleak English sunlight. There’s two dark brown handrails supported by three of the bare cream-coloured walls, each one at a slightly different height, more or less reaching Yuuri’s waist. The remaining wall is covered by a large mirror that makes him nervous. Watching himself has always unsettled him, and he has a feeling being able to see just how terrible he is at ballet isn’t going to be pleasant at all.

“Here we go,” Yuuri jumps at the sound of Minako trailing back into the studio. She’s holding black clothes in her arms, smirking at him, “Come on, Katsuki, go try it on.”

Uh-oh.

Yuuri stares at what she gives him, perplexed. They look similar to the leggings Minako’s wearing, although sturdier, and they seem really tight when he tries to stretch them. “Are you sure this is for boys?”

“Go and change, Katsuki, and don’t ask stupid questions.”

She leads him to a room beside the studio, dimly lit by an old light bulb. There’s boxes and boxes of ballet materials inside of it, stockpiled and tagged with words like “pointe shoes” and “performance outfits”. Minako tells him to come out whenever he’s ready, her tone heavily implying that he shouldn’t take long.

The clothes feel strange as he puts them on. He’s never really worn tight clothing before, always choosing baggy over form-fitting, thinking that the less of him that people see, the better. As he slides the weird leggings on, wincing at the way they press on his skin, he wonders if Minako will laugh at him.

The top is even more embarrassing to get into, the sleeves squeezing his arms uncomfortably, but he manages. Lastly, he puts on the thick black socks that Minako gave him.

She awards him with an approving nod when he enters the studio again, and hands him a pair of weird, misshapen socks that don’t seem to have a top part, as if they’re only covering the soles of his feet.

“They’re called ‘ballet flats’ or ‘ballet slippers’,” Minako explains, “These ones, specifically, are made out of canvas, and they’re full soles, for men. I guessed your size, so tell me if they’re not right. Oh, and don’t get too attached to them; you’ll wear them out soon enough.”

You’ll wear them out soon enough . He gulps.

Yuuri glances down at his hands holding the flats, feeling completely out of his depth, “...Should I take notes?”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Minako smiles cheerfully, “Just memorize it.”

“Happy summer holidays to me,” Yuuri murmurs weakly.

…

The first week, Minako doesn’t let him do almost any ballet at all.

“Your body isn’t used to ballet,” she sighs, inspecting him with pursed lips, shaking her head while tsk ing, “There’s no point in teaching you positions until you get some physical resistance.”

She writes up a warm-up and stretching routine for Yuuri, with her squiggly stick-people drawings as a visual aid. When she hands it to him, he sees five pages and well. That’s it then.

Minako insists that he wear his practice clothes while he does them, to get him used to the feel of them, which means she gives him three sets so he can change.

After that, it’s about a week and a half of him doing stretches all around the house, leaning against walls, flopping around the floor clumsily, burying his face in his pillows when he can’t properly do something, muttering about “stupid ballet” and “stupid figure skating”. Mari thinks he’s absolutely mental, starts reading up on satanic rituals, and practices exorcising him while he attempts to do splits. His mom thinks it’s “endearing”. Phichit, when he tells him about it over Skype (he only mentions that he’s started to try some sport, too embarrassed to bring up ballet, for some reason), hiding his head under the covers and grumbling, recommends him some illegal curses to use on her. Yuuri wonders why he even asked him.

“Today,” Minako announces when he comes into class one day, “You’re going to learn the turn-out, and the first position.”

“The turn-out. The first position.” Yuuri repeats, perplexed. He’s sitting in a butterfly position on the floor of the studio, wearing his practice clothes. “What’s that?”

“There’s five essential positions in classical ballet, and the turn-out is the basic tool for all of them,” she tells him, swiftly taking her thin pink jacket off until she’s wearing her leotards (Yuuri got hit with a newspaper for calling them “leggings”) and a top, “Watch.”

Minako takes a deep breath, straightening out her back until her neck is raised high, moving her feet so her ankles touch, toes pointing outwards from the centre of her body. Yuuri observes, not really knowing what’s so important about feet.

“Now,” she wags a finger at him, eyes narrowing, “you do it.”

“Okay?” to be honest, after only stretching for the past five classes, Yuuri’s pretty sure he’s got this covered. He stands up, lifting himself off the ground with his right hand, and puts himself in front of Minako like she always says he should do. After a few seconds, he tries to copy her, rotating his feet.

Yuuri promptly falls over, knees flexing out of their own accord, his arms shooting up to stop himself from hitting the ground. However, just before he slams into hard wood, strong, capable hands wrap around his forearm, and he’s swiftly raised up.

Minako smirks when he looks up, his cheeks flushed, “Wasn’t that easy, was it?”

Yuuri shakes his head meekly, trying not to squirm under her smug gaze.

“Okay, Katsuki,” she instructs, “Go stand in front of me. Now,  I want you to very slowly rotate your feet a little. Just a little, you hear me? I’m not young enough to catch kids every couple of minutes.”

He grits his teeth and starts to move on the balls of his feet, clumsily rotating one feet at a time, feeling muscles pulling in his calves -

“ No! ” Minako whacks him with a newspaper, startling Yuuri into a tiny jump, “It’s supposed to be straight ! Your knees are drawing a diagonal line, stupid boy.”

“...A diagonal?”

“The theory of turn-out,” she explains, holding her newspaper threateningly, “Is to have your shoulders, hips and ankles lined up. Your knees and toes should be pointing away from you, but following the line of your body.”

“...I’m not getting it,” Yuuri admits, miserable.

Minako sighs, exasperated, and drops her newspaper on the floor, moving until she’s standing behind him. It makes the height difference between them much more apparent, the way she almost towers over him. Yuuri feels tiny, even if the Headmistress is much shorter than other British people he’s met here.

He hasn’t got a great experience with people bigger than him, at least not until he came to Hogwarts. Phichit felt safer, at first, because he’s slightly shorter than Yuuri, while Leo was another matter entirely. He’s simply too much of an honest person to make anyone suspect that he would want to hurt them.

So it feels startlingly good to realize that, despite the fact that he can feel someone taller than him touching him, despite the fact that his clothes barely cover his body, exposing an uncomfortable amount of skin, he doesn’t get the urge to run.

The Headmistress is many things, but she isn’t threatening.

“This,” Minako’s finger pokes at the place where his neck becomes shoulder, “should be in line with this,” she leans down, crouching until she pats at his knee lightly, “and this.” She hits his ankles.

“But the reason your position was wrong, and could end up with you getting an injury,” she continues, straightening up and walking until she’s in front of him once more, “is because your toes and your knees must be pointing away from your body, and away from each other . Think of yourself as a symmetrical figure: you need to be identical on both sides, and your ankles need to be your symmetry line. Squeeze those thighs together, Katsuki; you’ll end up mustering up a crowd. Don’t worry if you can’t do your turn-out all the way at first; only crazy aliens that Nikiforov boy of yours can do that without practice.”

Yuuri sighs, rubbing his temples softly, “God, if I have to compare myself to Victor, I’m never going anywhere. Have you seen his loop jump? Wait, does Victor do ballet? Oh my god, do you do ballet with Victor?”

“I would rather die,” Minako answers cheerfully, “Geniuses like that only serve to make me want to crush them slowly. I don’t know how Yakov does it. But well, it’s ballet class now, so, turn-out .”

Yuuri tries over and over again, biting his lower lip in concentration, even closing his eyes to pay more attention to what his body is doing (it usually ends up in him flailing around before he’s caught by Minako, but it’s the thought that count), and yet something is always wrong.

Sometimes his back is arching forward when it shouldn’t, sometimes his shoulders aren’t broad enough, sometimes his back is arching backwards when it shouldn’t, sometimes his ankles are too far apart… It’s an endless stream of Minako’s nagging, of newspaper pages against his skin, of her hands forcibly holding him up because, “You have to be proud and tall, Yuuri! You’re a ballet dancer now!”

Yuuri spends the entire class tensing up, waiting for the Headmistress to curse the day he was born, frustrated at himself for not being able to just do it . It almost seems similar to a cruel joke; his body has never truly been what he wanted to see, or have, but now it’s rebelling even more, refusing to follow his instructions, bending at the places where he should be straight, moving slightly out of line with his body when he thinks he’s getting it right. By the end of the hour and a half session, he feels like crap, his legs hurt too much to stand properly, and he just wants to sleep.

“Get some rest,” Minako sighs, glancing at him with an unidentifiable emotion in her eyes, “You look like you need it.”

Yuuri simply nods, almost ashamed of himself, hanging his head and basically crawling to get changed as quickly as he can.

Just before he’s about to leave, leaning down to get the Floo powder, Minako tells him, voice soft, “You didn’t give up in the entire class, Katsuki. I haven’t taught many students, but I’m fairly certain most eleven year olds wouldn’t just stand there and take my abuse for an hour and a half.”

She walks until she’s beside him. It’s the first time she’s done it since they started their lessons; she’s always either behind or in front of him, moulding his body to fit the strict ballet positions she insists on. Minako’s never really stood next to him .

She squeezes his shoulder gently, chuckling when he winces in pain, “You’re doing good, sweatpants boy. See you in two days.”

That night, Yuuri digs out his phone under the covers and clumsily types ‘figure skating’ into the YouTube search bar. He watches one video after another, never taking his eyes off the skaters, trying to memorize the way their feet glide across the ice, how the music makes their programs come alive . He clicks auto-play and observes, hungry for more, marvelling at smooth, thrilling movements. It almost feels like a rush of adrenaline to watch, his heart beating in time with the music, his eyes widening every time they manage to execute a particularly difficult turn, the moment of anguish when they don’t.

Yuuri thinks, I want that . He thinks, I want to make others hold their breath as they watch me . He thinks, I want to forget everything exists while I’m on the ice .

At 4 am, he switches, determined, to ballet tutorials.

Three classes later, he can hold a 90º turn-out for minutes at a time.

…

From then on, Minako stops teaching intensive classes and switches to what she calls “the boring but effective model”.

Every day at the studio they do exercises on the barre (which is apparently what the weird handrail is called. Yuuri doesn’t know why everything in ballet has to be French ) for half an hour, and then Minako coaches him through the five positions, stances, and exercises like the demiplié, tendu, adagio...  

“How’s ballet going, dear?” Mom asks as he comes home one day, battered and exhausted from class.

“It’s...it’s fine,” he mumbles, fighting to keep his eyes from closing. His legs ache all over from staying still for so long, and his arms feel boneless. Yuuri tries to imagine how it would feel if he started the five positions the first day, and almost physically shudders in horror.

His lessons with Minako happen four times per week, an hour and a half each class, under her watchful gaze.

“Usually people start with around three hours a week,” she tells him one day, while he’s standing still in turn-out, biting his lip to keep himself from asking if time’s up yet, “But people also usually start when they’re six, so that’s no excuse to complain, sweatpants boy. And stop widening your turn-out, that’ll just make your knees stress. Work with your natural angle.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Yuuri murmurs, moving his ankles closer together while letting his toes do the same, wincing at the way his legs tense.

In August, Yuuri gets permission from his parents to go to Leo’s for his birthday. He’s become so accustomed to walking to the nearest wizarding shop (“Felix’s luck”) to Floo to Minako’s studio, that this time he almost calls out her address, instead of “De la Iglesia family home”.

The moment he opens his eyes after the shower of green fire around him erupts, he only has a few seconds to process a blurry motion wearing colourful clothes before he feels arms wrap around his neck.

“Yuuri!” Phichit screeches, hugging him like a particularly affectionate monkey, “Yuuri, you’re here !”

“H-hi, Phichit, it’s nice to see you.” he chokes out, trying to breathe, “W-would you let me go, please?”

“Oh, right,” his friend grins sheepishly, freeing Yuuri’s neck from his tight grip and taking a timid step back. “I’m just really glad to see you! It’s been so long!”

“We Skype every week, Phichit,” Yuuri says, amused, but he can’t help how sincere he sounds when he tells him, “I missed you, too.”

Going back home after Hogwarts doesn’t only mean loneliness; it means his town, the streets he’s learnt to fear since he was old enough to know anything. It means shaking his head weakly when his mom asks him if he wants to phone someone to hang out with. It means avoiding houses marked with a red X in his mind like his life depends on it. It means forgetting, for a while, what it’s like to have friends.

Even more than that, now that he’s finally met people he likes (and who for some strange, indistinguishable reason, like him too), he doesn’t want friends anymore, as a concept he sees in American daytime television or books in the local library.

He wants Phichit and his unexplainable obsession with smartphones, yapping away at his ear, playing Geometry Dash and moaning like he’s dying every time he loses. He wants Leo, the way he always has a smile reserved for Yuuri, even when things seem hopeless, the soft sound of his MP3 player in his hoodie’s pocket, because he refuses to turn his earphones’ volume down. He wants Yuuko and Takeshi, who never leave each other’s side but couldn’t be more different, bickering like a married couple incessantly, even if Takeshi tries to pretend he doesn’t like Yuuri.

He wants…

He wants Victor , and quiet afternoons spent in the Hogwarts library, the sound of heavy dusty tomes hitting the old wooden tables as they sit down. He wants his Potions partner’s small, free laugh; the one that he manages to coax out of him whenever he does anything ridiculous enough. He longs for it because of the way it sounds so tentative but at the same time incredibly brave, making Yuuri thinks he should have been a Gryffindor, if his way of daring to meet Yuuri halfway every time is anything to go by. He wants merciless blades hitting the ice head-on, the way the edges curve just as Victor stabilizes his landing, finding balance seemingly effortlessly, a full grin on his face, and Yuuri thinks, for a breathtaking second, that he’s flying .

“Yeah,” Yuuri flushes, ducking his head, “I missed you all.”

He wonders if he could visit Victor, perhaps. They’ve exchanged a few short letters, mostly because Victor keeps saying all his relatives from Russia are in his family home, and he’s busy most of the time, but it would be cool to meet up. Maybe. If Victor wants to.

“Yuuri,” Leo’s voice calls, and he turns his head, his thoughts slipping away. Outside the fireplace, he can see the living room of a stylish apartment; a black leather couch in the middle of the room, the walls covered with family pictures. His friend is coming in from the doorway, waving at both of them. “Hello.” He settles his eyes on Phichit, a small, fond smile forming on his face. “As you can see, Phichit came early.”

“I was so excited, Yuuri!” Phichit bursts out, a little of his accent seeping in because of his agitation, “A birthday party! At Leo’s house! With Leo and Yuuri !”

Yuuri laughs, delighted, stepping out of the fireplace while being careful not to get any ashes on his shoes, and shakes his head fondly at Phichit’s antics.

It’s all going smoothly, until Leo opens his mouth again, “I invited some of my other Muggle friends, too, so don’t talk about magic, please.”

He freezes, heartbeat catching in his throat, feeling his mind go blank. He didn’t really think about it, the fact that Leo might have other friends, but he should have, of course. Leo is handsome, charming, good at sports and normal , in the best way. There’s no doubt about the fact that he has other friends, another bunch of cool people their age who probably had no problem with Leo bringing his classmates. They are definitely not feeling their chest contract, as if his ribs are squeezing together to destroy his sternum, fighting a losing battle against the air trying to escape his lungs. They aren’t digging their hands inside their coat, fingers trembling as they reach for the sheet of paper he carries everywhere and all the time. They aren’t -

“Yuuri?” Leo asks, cocking his head, eyebrows furrowed, “Is something wrong? Do you feel sick?”

“I -” he  chokes out, struggling to keep his dispersed thoughts from coming out to the surface. Other friends mean unknown variables in this party. This event, which was reassuring, controlled, safe . The birthday party was supposed to just be the three of them, no pressure added.

Suddenly, he remembers Minako’s chiding as he stands in first position, his arms held out in front of him, “ Breathe , Katsuki, damn it. Ballet is much of a show as it is a sport. If the audience doesn’t think you’re tense, then you can fool anyone. Tuck your ass in, Katsuki .”

Yuuri can do this. He can. He went to Hogwarts, and he spoke to Phichit, and it worked. If he can simply pretend enough, if there’s a way he can spend this birthday party without needing to run away , then it’ll be his birthday gift to Leo. He can do this .

“I’m fine,” he forces a smile on, holding on to his instructions like his life is hanging on it, “It’ll be great to meet them.”

A hand wraps around his left wrist, “I’m afraid that’s gonna have to wait, Leo,” Phichit smiles at him cheerfully, “I’m taking Yuuri away so we can talk about the summer freely first.”

Their friend looks at them, startled, “Oh, okay. You can go into my room, if you want? We’ll be outside in the balcony when you’re done.” He squints at Yuuri, “You sure you’re okay?”

“He’s fine , Leo,” Phichit waves him away, pushing him towards the door, “You go and be awesome. Don’t worry, you’re still my favourite. You’re like, my phone bro. My brone.”

As soon as Leo’s gone, Phichit whispers in his ear “I lied. You’re my favourite.”

“What did you want to talk about, Phichit?” Yuuri asks, tilting his head towards him. He hopes he’s not going to ask about the “sport” he’s been practicing this summer.

“You don’t have to say you’re okay, you know,” his friend says, suddenly, startling Yuuri into staring at him, “It’s fine if you’re nervous about meeting Leo’s friends.”

Yuuri opens his mouth to deny it, but nothing comes out. His heartbeat quickens.

“Please don’t worry about being worried!” Phichit bursts out, looking at him with wide dark eyes, “That sounded really bad. I hate English, ugh. Um. Like. It’s seriously, like, okay! I don’t mind, and Leo doesn’t mind, and it’s not too much to ask him to warn you if he brings other people! You’re the best, Yuuri. Um. Yeah.”

Phichit seems so anxious, twisting the ends of his sleeves with his fingers, biting his lip, not quite meeting his eyes, that Yuuri can’t help it. He giggles, a little, his hand going up to cover his mouth, turning into full blown laughter when Phichit’s head snaps up to stare at him.

“Y-you’re such a dork,” he gets out, feeling the knot in his throat loosen instantly, his lungs opening up slowly but surely, “I c-can do this, really. I won’t get a warning in real life about everything, you know.”

His friend lifts his chin up stubbornly, “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Leo and I are here, you know. I’m really tired of you just shutting up and going with whatever we decide to do. And like, it would be okay to hang out with...Victor, too, if you want. We can do stuff!”

“Doing ‘stuff’ would require you to leave your phone sometimes, you are aware of this, right?” Yuuri can’t help but tease, punching him playfully in the shoulder, “You’re a sap.”

“You were sweet on me the first day we met,” Phichit mutters, cheeks flushed. “Don’t try to deny it.”

“Thank you, Phichit,” he tells him, feeling a smile draw on his lips softly, “It means a lot.”

Yuuri hesitates for a moment. He remembers coming back in June, still pondering about ballet, his mind swimming, drowning in perilous thoughts  ( “Am I good enough? Can I do it? Is my body acceptable for it, anyway?” ), and lying down on the living room couch, curling up to take up the least possible space, his knees pressed against his chest, trying to hide his head so he wouldn’t have to see anything. His mom came in while he was there, sitting down behind him. She rubbed his legs up and down, tracing reassuring familiar patterns that he knows by heart now, after so many occasions in which he’s needed them. Mom’s voice was low and neutral as she asked, “Did you tell anyone, baby?”

She mentioned it, before he went to Hogwarts. Mom implied it would be smart to tell someone he trusted about his instructions, about the way his hands shake when he holds his quill in exams, about the weeks he spent locked in his room once it was ‘okay’ for him to do, since he didn’t have school.

Mom tried not to sound disappointed when he covered his face with his hands and mumbled a muffled, “No.”, but Yuuri knows she was.

Can he -?

Can he tell Phichit?

“Phichit -” he starts, swallowing hard.

“Come on guys,” Leo pokes his head into his room, smiling  at them, “We’re gonna eat something, and it’s gonna be all gone if you don’t come out now.”

“Wait, Leo,” Phichit looks at Yuuri, obviously expecting him to finish what he’s about to say, but Yuuri hurries to answer.

“Yeah, sure!” he smiles, trying to communicate that he really is fine. “Let’s go eat some food .”

“Hmm, food,” Phichit agrees immediately, though he squeezes his shoulder when he passes beside him, quietly supporting him.

In the end, the party isn’t a total disaster. Leo has obviously put some thought into it, because he brings out a spreadsheet with things they can do for the afternoon, ticking off items as they play different games. They try cards, bingo (for some strange reason), twister, and Monopoly (Phichit demolishes all of them in that one). Takeshi comes halfway through the afternoon, explaining that Yuuko’s Floo is down so she couldn’t come, and he joins all of them. Yuuri stays by Phichit’s side the entire time, glancing around to make sure he doesn’t go very far, and his friend never complains. Leo, for his part, introduces his friends one at a time, noticing something ’s wrong, and even takes him outside for a few minutes to quietly share a cookie with him. Actually, Yuuri’s pretty sure that, by the end of the party, Leo’s friends might have even liked him, a little.

…

The rest of August can be summed up in one word for Yuuri: pirouettes .

Pirouettes. So many of them .

Minako doesn’t really let him do a turn, at first, which is actually one of the things Yuuri was excited about. He’s watched Victor spin in the air before landing solidly on the ice so many times that he’s certain he could simply close his eyes and replay it like a film, separating each frame without fail. It’s always seemed beautiful, the way he executes his jumps, as if he’s not rushing to get to the end, but enjoying the feel of weightlessness they bring.

“We’re going to start with your pirouette prep,” she tells him a week after Leo’s birthday party, “Go stretch and do barre.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbles, tugging his top down. Huh. It’s a little loose.

“The first step to get into your pirouette prep is fourth position,” Minako crosses her arms over her chest and looks at him expectantly, “Make sure it’s not too wide, because I don’t feel like cleaning blood off wood.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he rolls his eyes. If there’s anything he’s learnt in these months of learning ballet, apart from how to do a proper tendu, it’s that Minako wouldn’t be Minako without death threats and intimidating stares.

She examines his fourth position for a few seconds, moving behind him to check his legs and push against his back slightly to make sure his core (core, in ballet, is a fancy word for abs, and it’s the reason why Minako has him do abdominal exercises without mercy) is strong, before nodding in approval. “Go into plié, a pretty deep one.”

Yuuri obeys, biting his lip in concentration, his eyes looking towards the ceiling. His knees bend automatically now, after weeks of barre exercises, and his arms only waver for a moment before setting smoothly, perpendicular to his body, stretched out with his palms down.

“Hmph,” Minako hums, pushing down on his arms and clucking her tongue when he destabilizes, stumbling forward. “Again, Katsuki.”

Once he manages to get it right, his instructor continues. Bit by bit, he settles into his pirouette turn position; his right leg bent at the knee, his toes resting lightly against his left knee, trying to balance his weight on his left foot. His arms are curving around thin air, as if he’s holding a beach ball (Minako prefers “holding his aura in”, but Yuuri visualizes it a lot better with the beach ball simile).

She makes him practice balancing like that for the next two classes, keeping his left foot flat on the ground, just as he was doing a weird kind of half turn-out, and then she lets him turn .

Yuuri fails a lot, starting out.

Sometimes his hips are bent instead of square (meaning, his belly button isn’t facing forward), which makes him fumble halfway through and fall, letting out a high pitched squeak before curling up into a little ball on the floor while Minako sighs deeply. Sometimes his right foot presses too hard against his left knee, and he bends it without thinking, tumbling down. Other times he simply doesn’t push with enough strength to get himself turning. Minako just sighs through all of it and goes to get some tea, grumbling about feet and children.

Yuuri’s beginning to think he may never get it right, after more than ten minutes of fruitless attempts, when he accidentally gets into a perfect relevé, his leg snapping up into the ideal angle against his knee, just enough to be supported without pushing.

It’s a rollercoaster. His whole body sways to the right, almost as if there’s a force coursing through him, moulding him without him consciously choosing to let it. The feeling is similar to a string holding him up, like a marionette, going from the tip of his toes to his head, lifting his gazes and fixing on a specific point in the whirling plane in front of him. Yuuri forgets to breathe, for a moment, as he spins, amazed at the fact that he’s doing it , he’s actually managing a turn.

His heartbeat is louder than any of the London traffic outside the studio, deafening, echoing in his skull.

Yuuri ends up landing his right foot clumsily from losing focus, his legs quivering unsteadily as he stabilizes, wincing when he twists his ankle slightly.

“Not bad,” Minako says from the door, startling him. He didn’t realize she was there. “Could use a little more practice, but your passé is decent, and you finished your simple turn.”

Her eyes flash, lips curling into a smirk, “I might make a ballet dancer out of you yet, Katsuki.”

Yuuri flushes, ducking his head, hiding his arms behind his back in embarrassment, “S-sorry, I got distracted.”

“Learn how to focus, sweatpants boy.”

Yuuri realizes, belatedly, that he enjoyed that turn. That he wants to do it again.

…

Phichit comes to visit London in the middle of August, demanding that Yuuri show him around because “I’m practically a tourist!”.

Yuuri’s mom, of course, immediately refuses to let two kids prance around London city with no one to supervise them, so Mari is roped into chaperoning them as they make their way around the different cultural landmarks.

“I hate you so much,” his sister tells him before they leave, zipping up her hoodie and sticking her hands in her pocket, “I also hate London, by the way.”

Phichit seems fascinated by Muggle London, if the way he gapes at everything is any clue. He also makes sure to take pictures of everything in his way so he can ‘Instagram’ it. Yuuri doesn’t even know what that is .

“I’ve never been in a completely Muggle part of a city before!” he whispers at Yuuri as they pass an Apple store, his eyes wide, “This is amazing . Can I buy an iPod? Please? I can be your slave! I can like, be really useful and stuff!”

“Well,” Yuuri cocks his head, after having to drag Phichit away from the store while he cried out about his ‘one true love’ and people stared at them, “I’ve never been in a magical part of a city. Mostly I just go to Diagon Alley and hope nobody notices how lost I am. Mom always looks freaked out.”

“ I will take you shopping one year,” his friend promises solemnly, “And I will buy you many wonderful magical sweets. I don’t know how you can stand life without them.”

Mari takes them to the London Eye, and they both wince as they listen to Phichit’s whoops of delight when they begin to ascend. They all take some pictures at the Big Ben, and Phichit insists that the clock tower is actually a huge giant transfigured, hence the name. Yuuri thinks he’s full of crap, and throws water from a fountain at him, starting a water war that ends when the park authorities scold them all. Mari sighs.

“Yuuri,” Phichit says, his voice grave, after his sister reminds them that they’ve got to be taking Phichit to the Floo soon. “I have a favour to ask.”

“Um,” Yuuri doesn’t really know where he’s going with this.

They’re sitting on a bench outside the Natural Sciences museum, having a chocolate ice cream with the money Yuuri’s mom gave them as they left the house, and Mari just stepped out to buy their bus tickets for the way back.

Phichit stands up from the bench, munching on the last of his ice cream before he swallows, his eyes determined. He moves until he’s in front of Yuuri, and then he goes down until he’s kneeling on one leg, as if he’s proposing.

He says, “Would you do me the honour of taking a selfie with me?”

Yuuri can’t stop laughing for long enough to actually give him an answer.

…

It’s the last week of August when Minako tells him about her past as a ballerina.

Yuuri’s just put his casual clothes back on, stuffing his leotards and flats into his bag, squishing them together so it all fits. He thinks, absently, that there’s got to be a spell for that, Doraemon style. His hands are still a little sweaty from practice, despite the fact that he’s already washed them, and his cheeks are flushed.

He’s more than ready to go back home, desperate for a shower, but he’s got to tell Minako he can’t make it on Wednesday, because the whole family is going on a picnic.

“...Minako?” he calls out, the moment he comes out from the tiny changing room and doesn’t see her there, waiting for him like usual. “Headmistress?”

“In here, Katsuki,” she replies, her voice reaching him from another room to his left. It sounds like she’s just outside the studio, so Yuuri knocks tries room he finds on the corridor.

The door opens almost immediately after he hesitantly knocks, Minako standing right behind it, “Come in,” she gestures, her eyes looking uncharacteristically soft, “I’m going to show you something cool.”

Yuuri obeys, not really sure where she’s going with it, and freezes.

The room is filled with prizes.

Medals, trophies, metallic plates hanging from the walls, multi-coloured ribbons that blind him no matter where he looks, the fabric looking faded around the edges. The shelves adorned with them are so high they reach the ceiling, as if they’re showing off just how inefficient this place is at demonstrating Minako’s extraordinary ballet career. Yuuri can see framed pictures on a small table in a corner; younger versions of his instructor smiling, waving, receiving her rewards. She’s dressed beautifully in every one of them, cold colours that make her brown hair seem even darker.

Yuuri thinks, with a start, that the grin on her face reminds him of Victor’s.

“It’s my hall of fame,” Minako jokes, crossing her arms over her chest in her usual manner, leaning against the wall. She’s staring wistfully at the pictures, too, biting her lip slightly. “From my good old days.”

The summer has mostly consisted in him going to ballet class and texting Phichit all morning in his bed, too lazy to properly get up and be productive, but Yuuri’s spent some time with Minako outside the studio.

She took him to a coffee shop, a day he showed up to class even though he was sick, nose running and eyes tearing up, making sure he had a cup of hot chocolate before personally Apparating them ( that was terrifying, by the way) back to his home.

Another week, Minako decided that it was high time he learnt something about the world of ballet, so they both curled up on her expensive couch and watched old ballet competitions from her DVDs, passing the popcorn (“A ballet dancer’s diet is healthy, but not torturous,” his instructor recited wisely when he raised his eyebrows at the size of the bowl), just marvelling at wondrous performances without really doing anything productive.

Yuuri’s pretty sure that, even if he never manages to be a proper figure skater, if he falls behind, his skin cracking simultaneously with the ice as he struggles to stay on his skates, feeling his feet falter over and over again, he’s at least found someone he trusts, in Minako. Someone who pulls him back up when he only wants to let go.

That’s why it hurts to see her like this, her eyes lost in memories, as if she’s still living in the past.

“You’re still incredible, Minako,” Yuuri hurries to say, taking a step towards her.

“My Professors at Hogwarts told me it was a waste of my talent,” she carries on, as if he didn’t say anything, “Ballet has no magical equivalent, you know? It’s one of those few disciplines that are truly Muggle.”

“...I didn’t know that,” he admits, feeling kind of stupid. He never thought to ask, in these two months? Couldn’t he have figured it out, since they didn’t do any magic?

“I started in ballet when I was a kid, way before I got my Hogwarts letter and realized I wasn’t as normal as I thought I was,” Minako grins at his look of shock, “Yeah, I’m a muggleborn. People called me a genius, like they do with your Victor -”

“He is a genius.” Yuuri agrees happily, but tries to steer the conversation away from him, “And you -”

“- now, and I aced all my subjects. Could’ve gone for a proper Ministry job.” Her voice tightens, her eyes narrowing as she looks at one of the pictures. “But I didn’t want that. I had my studies to fall back on, anyway, and Hogwarts is a great position to be after my retirement.”

Minako properly looks at him, the first time since she started to speak, “Look, boy, if you want to ice skate, like I’m pretty sure you think you do, if my eyes work properly, work for it. You can do it, alright? Your posture is improving stupidly fast, and you’ve managed to perfect every position I give you, you stupid brat. You have time .”

She clears her throat, swallowing hard as if she’s embarrassed to be saying this, “You’re not even a teenager yet, Jesus. Don’t start thinking about competing, and don’t even dare to compare yourself to others. You still have a long way to go, on your own.” Her lips curl into a smirk, “You should ask Russian prince about that, too. Might give you a surprise.”

Yuuri opens his mouth, only to close it immediately. He takes a deep breath, “Minako, I didn’t know you could be this deep.”

He means, Thank you .

“ What did I say about your sass, boy? ” Minako whacks him with her newspaper ( where did she get it from?) but she’s smiling.

…

“Boy,” Yakov grunts, glancing at him, “You should wash that thing. Better yet, throw it in the trash.”

Victor looks up from his crime novel absently, blinking slowly, only to process his mentor’s words and clutch a the bracelet that Yuuri made protectively, feeling the corners of his mouth tug downwards, “It was a gift, Yakov. I like it.”

“It’s filthy,” the man informs him with a shudder, “You’ve been carrying it all summer like it’s your wand. Merlin knows which one of those crazy fangirls of yours gave it to you.”

Victor flushes without meaning to, burying his head in his book again. He turns so he’s facing the back of the couch, feeling his suit jacket wrinkle as he moves. Ugh, he wishes he could change, but they’ve got a family dinner later. “A friend gave it to me. Stop talking about fangirls; I don’t have any.”

Yakov raises an incredulous bushy eyebrow at him, and the boy ducks his head, “They’re just girls from Gryffindor who think I’m a ‘bad boy’,” he makes sure to use the quotation marks, rolling his eyes. “I think the only bad thing I’ve ever done in my life is hide Makkacchin in the Slytherin dormitories. And it’s only a manifestation of my rebellious nature that comes out when I’m protecting the powerless. The no-dog rule at Hogwarts is the cruelest thing I’ve ever heard, including your seventh year Potions assignments.” He scratches behind Makkachin’s ears softly, smiling at the way he leans into the touch, humming.

“First of all, as a Professor, I’m not hearing this,” he wags his finger at Victor, who smiles innocently. “And you have done far worse things than that, you little brat. Remember when Lilia and I had to run in the middle of December to stop you from skating in the lake? In Russia , Victor. I couldn’t feel my fingers for days!”

“It was a good lake,” he murmurs defensively, hunching his shoulders, “The best lake. Makkacchin agrees with me.”

His dog yips happily, his tail hitting the ground periodically as it shakes in excitement at the mention of his name, and the poodle lifts his paws until they touch the cushions in the expensive sofa, trying to get his head closer to Victor so that he pets him.

Just as he’s moving his hand to comply, he catches sight of his bracelet again, resting on his wrist, the once vibrant shade of blue deteriorated somewhat. He brushes against it with his fingertips, smiling when the wavy design weaves itself into the sentence: “ You can do it, Victor! And if you can’t, I’ll buy you some Muggle gummy bears! They’re just as good as victory! ”.

Without thinking, he brings his wrist to his lips, pressing a breathy kiss onto the material, his eyes fluttering shut. It helps immensely, knowing he’s got Yuuri back at Hogwarts, knowing he’ll see him again soon. He can’t help but wish fervently for the calm hours spent in the library, watching the Hufflepuff boy stare in dismay at his notes, rolling up his sleeves determinedly. Victor remembers Yuuri hiding his head in his robes, insisting that “I’m not here, Victor, studying is only for real people, and I am not real!” while he snorted and shook his head fondly, reminding him about upcoming tests.

Maybe he can try and get closer to Chris this year, if he gets the chance. It would be good to have some company in the dungeons.

He grits his teeth. Maybe he’ll be braver, and finally manage to get over his stupid belief that Yuuri doesn’t really like him. Victor’s almost certain there’s no one Yuuri wouldn’t like. Yuuri is like… a cuddly unicorn. A cuddly unicorn who blows up cauldrons  and then stares at the black mess it leaves for ten minutes before turning to Victor, cheeks flushed, and promising him effusively to pay him back as soon as possible. As if Victor gives a damn about a cauldron.

Makkacchin whines, and he suddenly remembers the dog is waiting for a pat. He leans down, threading his fingers through soft, brown fur, enjoying the quiet that the Nikiforov mansion grants him during the afternoons. Tomorrow morning, Yakov’s other students will come; that wretched drama queen Georgi and the new one, the short blond who likes to glare at everyone and tried to steal one of Victor’s dad’s favourite paintings, the one that has a Bengal tiger on it. What eleven year old even does that?

Right now, though, Yakov is muttering under his breath while he corrects some schoolwork from the Sixth Years, and Makkacchin is burrowing closer to his hand, licking his fingers as he pets him, tickling him and choking startled giggles out of him.

Maybe, Victor thinks, maybe he’ll write Yuuri a letter.

Not like, a weird letter or anything! Not a stalker letter, like the ones he gets sometimes from his “fans” (and which his mom opens with an alarmed look in her eyes, muttering unsavoury comments under his breath). A proper letter, like the ones he reads about in books, where he can make sure his Y in Dear Yuuri is swirly and delicate, and where he doesn’t have to worry about ink stains, as he does in official wizarding applications. He wants to tie it with a purple ribbon (he’ll probably ask Lilia to do it; he sucks at them) and make sure it is absolutely, undoubtedly perfect . The best friendship letter in the world, similar to the fictional correspondence he can find in adventure books, where every word counts and every comma has a novel’s worth of meaning.

Mostly, though, he wants Yuuri to write back .

Chapter Text

There is one thing that Yuuri knows about Diagon Alley and it is this: he’s 99.99% sure that “Wizarding Toys and Recreational Objects” isn’t a store for children.

“We should go in,” Phichit whispers, grinning as they stare at the establishment from a nearby stone bench, just outside the main street of Diagon Alley. “My mom would flip, but it’d be so worth it.”

“We’re not going in,” Yuuri scolds him, hitting him on the back of the head lightly, “The reason we’re here is to buy school stuff.”

Leo shrugs and nods, “Whatever you guys want, to be honest. I don’t really care that much, as long as you let me go to Celestina’s Melodies.”

“I mean,” Takeshi smirks, exchanging a look with Phichit and fist-bumping. “It’s not a crime to go in, right?”

“I’m taking you all to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” Yuuko cuts them all off with a severe look. “You should show Yuuri the fun part of the wizarding world, not the crazy part. Takeshi, stop being a bad influence!”

“Well,” Mari says, touching the underside of her chin with her index finger, considering, “I’d like to go in, too.”

Yuuri honestly doesn’t know why his parents thought bringing Mari along would help with discipline at all; she’s pretty much the poster child for rebellious teenager, short hair and piercings included, and she thrives on getting Yuuri into ridiculous trouble.

After a few minutes of discussion, in which Takeshi and Yuuko start a back-and-forth argument about whether the, um, shop , should be in their visiting plans, counting with support from both sides, Yuuri finally takes responsibility. They’ll be here for hours if he doesn’t.

He goes up to Phichit, makes sure his eyes are wide and he looks shorter than he is, and he mumbles, “Phichit… I’d really like if you showed me the cool parts of the wizarding world, I want to learn…” He bites his lip timidly, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes. “It’d be awesome if you showed me.”

His friend startles, staring down at him, his chest flushed with pride, and announces, “Everybody, we’re going to WWW! And then, we’re gonna visit the Broom Shop! And if we get time after that, we’ll buy Yuuri some sweets! All of them! Let’s go !”

...Maybe he overdid it. Well, he really wants to buy his stuff.

There’s no school equipment mentioned, but Yuuri can work up to that, with some time.

All of them go to WWW first, which is a complete disaster, because four children and a teenager in a joke shop can’t be anything but, their sudden bursts of laughter lighting up the store, spending an unreasonable amount on money on items that aren’t truly useful at all.

Yuuri runs into some of the older Gryffindors in there, stealthily walking through the more serious corridors with an excited glint in their eyes, even though most of them insist that “I’m just here for my younger broster! I mean brother! I mean, sister! Fuck !”.

Once they’re done with that, their pockets considerably lighter, Yuuri manages to coach them into visiting the Book shop, apparently called “Flowers and Boots.”

“It’s Flourish and Blotts ,” Leo frowns when he says it, confused, “Why would it be called Flowers and Boots?”

“Look,” Yuuri sets him in place with a stare, “You’ve got a saying that’s ‘Merlin’s pants’, okay? You have puke flavoured  beans! I’ve learnt to expect anything from the wizarding world.”

“Touché,” Phichit admits, pressing his palm to his heart, “Although I must insist that Thai magic is much more sensible than this British nonsense. Honestly, who even thinks about spells to make tea when you can make it properly ?”

“Okay, that ’s uncalled for, time is of essence, and if you only have a minute to make tea, it just makes sense to do it with a spell, instead of mucking it up by yourself -”

“Yuuko, your lips are flapping, I acknowledge you’re speaking, but I’m ignoring you. I’ll pay attention when your arguments have relevance.”

“ Chulanont , I will kill you.”

“Hahahha, guys!” Yuuri tries desperately, “Let’s all have fun, okay!”

They buy all their textbooks after wandering around the book shop several times, lazily flipping through pages and sneezing at the dust that flows into the air when they open the old tomes, the pages yellowed and rough to the touch, the faint smell of rotting paper in the air. Yuuri, brave as ever, gets a wizarding cook book as well, to make his mom something cool once he’s able to manage a decent meal on his own. Phichit insists he’s the “caretaker” in their relationship.

“I’m not the ‘caretaker’,” Yuuri scrunches up his nose, “Like, at all. Remember when you once massaged my feet for two hours after we hiked for Herbology -?”

“That’s not important,” Phichit hurries to cut him off, side-eying the others, eyes wide.

“- or that one time that you made me hot chocolate, gave me a hot water bottle and tucked me into bed, insisting I would have ‘perished’ otherwise, even though I literally sneezed once ?”

“Yuuri - “

“-Oh, wait, I remember that day when you carried me on your shoulders up the stairs to our Common Room because the sole on my shoe moved a bit, and you could see my pinky poking out -”

“Yuuri, I get it!” Phichit whines, pawing at his arm desperately. In the background, Takeshi is laughing his ass off, tears running down his cheeks, with most of the others joining him. Mari is cracking up, slapping her knee with a hoot, and Yuuko giggles mercilessly, whispering “Phichit team mom” every couple of seconds. Leo, of course, is elegantly muffling his snort. “You don’t have to go on!”

“Alright,” Yuuri concedes, smiling sheepishly and patting Phichit’s head fondly, “I won’t give away more of your secrets.”

He is, naturally, a complete liar. Yuuri’ll just save them for the next time the guy tries to embarrass him. Serves him right.

In the end, they only have time to buy new robes and some updated Potions equipment before it’s time to leave, the familiar edges of hunger skillfully wrapping around their thoughts, surrounding them until they can’t help but remember it with every step they take. Yuuri, Mari and the Gryffindors have to be home for dinner, their parents’ orders, and Phichit doesn’t really want to hang out alone.

“Do you want to come with us?” Yuuri asks, slightly hesitant. He’s pretty sure Phichit won’t be weirded out by it, but still…

“O-M-G!” Phichit screeches, enunciating each letter carefully. Leo has got to stop lending him Muggle Gossip Magazines. “I just got invited to the Katsuki House! Check my pulse, am I dying?”

“You’re such a drama queen,” Yuuri flushes, avoiding his gaze, feeling a smile curl his lips despite his struggle to contain it. “It’s not like we’re royalty, or anything. Your home is probably much nicer than ours.”

“But your house has your family in it!” Phichit exclaims, running up until they’re side by side, grabbing his forearm and hanging on to it, delighted. Mari’s walking the Gryffindors to the nearest Floo chimney, so they’re alone together, walking towards the bus stop just outside Wizarding London. “And I want to meet them so bad!”

Sometimes, Yuuri thinks, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, he wonders how he happened to get the most unbelievable good luck in the world, and stumbled across Phichit on his first day of school.

…

His parents both adore Phichit, not that there was any doubt about it in the first place, cooing at his endearing but failed attempts at sounding like a Muggle, stuttering on unfamiliar words and expressions. Yuuri laughs so much that it’s hard to breathe, when Phichit mistakes Big Brother for a sociology study in the Muggle World, and tries to sound intelligent by talking about it. His friend pouts at first, but eventually joins in, snorting.

Once he needs to go home, after having dinner with the Katsukis, his mother takes Yuuri aside, her eyes glistening with tears, and hugs him tight. Her voice is low and full of tenderness as she says, “I am so proud of you, Yuuri.”

...

Platform 9 ¾ is just as busy as last year, wizarding families flocking from one side to another nervously, and Yuuri is definitely forgetting something at home.

“‘Kay, Yuuri,” Mari tells him after they say goodbye to their parents and cross the magical brick column. It’s still terrifying, even though it seems slightly underwhelming once he’s on the other side. “You go like, do your thing. Um,” she looks upwards, as if she’s remembering something, “Yeah, keep your phone charged, try not to get kidnapped.”

“Shouldn’t you have told me this last year?” Yuuri asks, cocking his head. Kuro squawks in agreement from her cage, accusing. The owl has gotten much louder this summer, after being forced to endure Yuuri’s ballet recordings; apparently, birds do not like the Nutcracker.

His sister flushes, muttering, “Well, you didn’t get kidnapped, did you? Mom already gave me the talk about it, so drop it.” She turns her body to start walking away, twisting her grip on her suitcase, but pauses for a second, taking a small step forward and ruffling his hair softly, her fingers warm against his scalp, before she smiles at him, quietly fond.

“Go be with your weird nerdy friends, Yuuri,” Mari calls out, her voice gruff, shuffling her feet while she drags her bag behind her as she moves out of sight, a blur of dark hair and a Gryffindor red hair band.

Yuuri glances around him, fidgeting with the edges of his robe’s sleeves, trying to find Phichit and the others in the intimidatingly large crowd, swiftly avoiding younger kids running around the Platform as they speed past him. After a few minutes of standing in place awkwardly, he spots an unmistakeable mop of grey hair.

A smile lights up his face, without him really realizing it, and his feet move on their own, “Victor -!”

“Yuuuuuuuri!” someone screeches, right before Yuuri’s thrown backwards by their weight slamming against him, “Yuuuuuuuri, you’re here !”

“Phichit,” Yuuri chokes out, trying to breathe, immediately recognizing his best friend with a strained smile, “We really have to work on your displays of affection.”

“I agree,” Leo says, walking towards them. He’s still wearing his normal clothes; jeans and a t-shirt, his hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers. “My mom asked me if we had to have a ‘special talk’ after Phichit stayed at my house.”

“She doesn’t understand the bonds of friendship that link us together, Leo,” Phichit clucks his tongue, waving it away. He gently lets Yuuri go, giggling at his pained expression.

“I think the main thing tying us together is that I pay your phone bill, for some reason. And, by the way, it isn’t cheap, you know.”

“Phichit, don’t take advantage of Leo,” Yuuri scolds him without any heat, patting him on the head and smiling. “He’s too nice sometimes.”

“He almost set fire to the kitchen!” Leo complains, waving his arms around and staring accusingly at Phichit, brows furrowing, “We could’ve all died!”

“I asked you to switch off the stove way before it happened!”

“Yeah, in Thai . How was I supposed to get that?”

“You guys are ridiculous,” Yuuri shakes his head, disbelieving. It already feels like they’re all in Hogwarts. He steps forward slightly, eyes searching in the crowd. “Anyway, I think I saw Victor, so I’m gonna go and say hello.”

“You should do that on the train,” Phichit stops him gently, a hand on his arm, “It’s about to set off, and we have to find a compartment first.”

“...Yeah,” Yuuri murmurs belatedly, when he glances around and can’t see grey hair anywhere, “Okay.”

…

There’s a few new Hufflepuffs that year, announced joyously at the Sorting Ceremony (it looks a whole lot more humiliating when Yuuri’s not sitting on that uncomfortable wooden chair), and they all seem way too excited for the day before classes start. Phichit starts to comment on “poor little lambs” and “young ones these days” before Jean Jacques gets sick of him and throws some chips at him while yelling, “You’re literally twelve!”

Kenjirou Minami, one of the new First Years, was born in Japan, so he immediately gravitates towards Yuuri when he sits down on the table, his brown eyes sparkling with glee as he moves so he’s sitting as close to him as possible. Yuuri tries to subtly edge away.

“Hi!” he beams at them both, his bright blond hair making him look like some kind of overexcited chick, “I’m so happy to be a Hufflepuff!”

“Hufflepuff is the best house,” Phichit assures him, as grave as if he were making a sales pitch, “The kitchens are close.”

Minami’s eyes widen comically, his jaw dropping, “Seriously? This is the best! ”

Guang-Hong, another one of the most recent badger initiates, is much shier and reserved. He’s a short boy with light brown hair and flushed cheeks, who looks down a lot, fidgeting nervously, his hands in his lap.

Or he is, until he sees Phichit’s phone.

“Is that an iPhone?” Guang-Hong gasps out of the blue, startling them all, crowding the older Hufflepuff with his body and turning until he can see the bright screen, “Are those really allowed? Oh my god, do you have twitter? Is there like, a Hogwarts forum? Aaaah, I can’t believe I didn’t find it earlier!”

Yuuri, who can pretty much guess how this is going to go down, grins at Phichit’s overwhelmed expression of delight, shoving some chips into his mouth and thinking, relieved, that both of them are going to fit right in.

He doesn’t see Victor until two days after that, though not for lack of trying. After checking his schedule and realizing he doesn’t have any classes with Slytherin until Friday, he musters up whatever courage he has (Leo recites Gryffindor chants for bravery under his breath sometimes, which makes Phichit tease him for hours. Yuuri thinks it’s cute.) and heads down to the Slytherin Common Room in the dungeons.

“Seriously, who makes a Common Room for kids in the dungeons ?” Yuuri mumbles, shivering slightly when he feels the temperature drop, his hands automatically going up to rub against his forearm. “Isn’t that like, a bit weird?”

The entrance to the dungeons is at the end of a dimly lit corridor, the only light emanating from flickering green flames on the torches adorning the dark grey stone wall. It’s an enormous door with a beautiful painting of a majestic green snake curling around itself etched into the stone. It seems almost like something from a movie; too magical and medieval to be true, even in the wizarding world.

Yuuri hesitates; he’s been in the Gryffindor Common Room before, and he knows Phichit has some Ravenclaw friends he hangs out with, but Victor’s never really invited him here. What if he’s making a terrible mistake coming here? What if Victor doesn’t want him, a chubby Hufflepuff boy, around his cool, sophisticated Slytherin friends?

Victor sent me letters this summer , he reminds himself, even if they were all a bit impersonal . He has to try, to make sure Victor doesn’t think he’s ignoring him or something. Yuuri tentatively knocks on the door.

Nothing happens.

He bites his lip. Maybe it has a password like the Gryffindor Common Room? But he doesn’t see a talking painting anywhere…just the snake…

Yuuri knocks again, feeling embarrassed. He should’ve asked Leo how to do this; Leo’s got friends in every House, he’s probably been here a thousand times. Maybe he’s even got a cool ‘Slytherin Ally’ membership card and stuff, with a wild picture of him on it -

“Okay, what the hell?” the stone door slides open suddenly, startling Yuuri into jumping back a few steps, letting out a small squeak.

A blond boy with green eyes is standing in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares at Yuuri, his eyebrows raised in surprise, “Well, well, well, what do we have here?  Are you one of the Rebel Prince’s fans again? I’ve heard there are some Ravenclaws selling his official merchandise, if you want to try -”

“S-sorry!” Yuuri bursts out, waving his arms around to dissuade him from kicking him out.“I just, I’m Victor’s Potions partner, and I wanted to say hi -!”

“Wait,” blond boy cocks his head, lifting his head. His lips curl into a suspiciously knowing smirk, and he leans in closer, eyes shining. “ You ’re Yuuri? Hufflepuff Yuuri? Library Yuuri?”

“Um,” he glances down at his chest stupidly, where his Hufflepuff tie is resting, as if to confirm that yes, he is a Hufflepuff. When he looks back up, the Slytherin boy is almost nose-to-nose with him, and he staggers backwards, uncomfortable. His cheeks are flushed. “Yeah?”

“Merlin,” the boy sighs dramatically, putting a hand on his forehead, smiling slyly “Okay, okay, I’ll get him for you.” He winks back at him, “But try not to break him too much; Slytherins are protective, even if it’s about someone who likes to stir up trouble.”

“O-okay,” he stutters, nervous and slightly lost. Rebel Prince ? Stir up trouble? That doesn’t really sound like Victor.  “W-what’s your name?”

“Christophe,” the Slytherin boy answers, lifting his chin up and executing an exaggerated bow. “A graceful name for a graceful man.”

“...You’re in my Year, Christophe. I’m pretty sure you’re twelve.”

“ Semantics .”

Christophe goes into the Common Room, mentioning that “if you ever want to come in, just hit me up, won’t you, darling?”, which is...interesting. After a few minutes (which Yuuri mostly spends shuffling his feet and hoping no Slytherin tries to get into the Common Room and finds him there), the stone door opens once more.

“Yuuri!” Victor flushes when he sees him, eyes wide. He looks taller than he was in June, Yuuri notices absently, feeling a smile form on his lips at the sight of him. “Yuuri, what did Chris say to you?”

“Um, not much?” Yuuri rubs the back of his head. Maybe it’s better to keep Chris’s odd comments to himself.  “He seems okay. Do you really get that many visits from fans?”

He takes a moment more to take in Victor, after more than two months of not seeing him. His Slytherin robes are neat and tidy, just as they always are, immaculate, as is his tie, perfectly arranged at the centre of his chest. Yuuri realizes, with a slight blush, that Victor’s still wearing the bracelet he made him for Christmas on his wrist, despite the fact that it looks a little torn.

“Shut up,” Victor grumbles, but he sounds relieved, “Let’s go somewhere else to talk; Slytherins are little more than gossipers.”

He’s learning a lot about Slytherins today. Regardless, he does wanna talk to Victor, maybe ask him how his summer went. Yuuri’s not completely sure he feels ready to share the fact that he’s started practicing ballet yet, but he does want to tell Victor. He wonders, does Victor do ballet, too? Does he wear those awful leotards as well? Does he like them? God, Victor’s the type to think leotards are the height of all fashion, isn’t he?

He has to go to practice with Minako tomorrow, Yuuri remembers suddenly. He’s dead if he forgets.

“Oh no , you’re not,” an unfamiliar, slightly accented voice comes from inside the Common Room just as Victor steps out to leave, “I am not letting you out of my sight anytime soon.”

Victor turns around, his eyebrows lifting, “Yuri?”

Yuuri tilts his head, confused, “Me?”

He doesn’t have to ask again, because a short blond boy from Slytherin comes out from the Entrance immediately after.

When Yuuri takes a few seconds to take him in, he feels like he stepped out of Hogwarts and into another world. Although almost all the Slytherins in his classes are always the most neat-looking people in the room , this boy doesn’t look like that, not even remotely. Almost the opposite, really. Instead of his standard-issued Hogwarts robes, he’s wearing black leggings and a t-shirt with the head of a tiger drawn like it’s a graffiti on some street in the Muggle World, except the tiger is moving , roaring every once in a while, its dark eyes glinting. It takes Yuuri’s breath away. His eyes are a shade between blue and green, shimmering in the light of the torches lighting up the dungeons, fiery and full of emotion, his eyebrows scrunched up in indignation, half hidden behind his messy blond hair. The boy moves in long strides until he reaches Victor, full of a confidence that’s slightly intimidating when it comes from someone so young, and stops his friend, moving in front of him and blocking their path with an outstretched arm.

“I told you, Nikiforov, you’re not leaving until you teach me some quads,” he growls, the tiger in his t-shirt echoing his tone of voice in a low rumble.

“ I ’m not even allowed to do quads,” Victor tells him, looking completely unfazed, despite the fact that a First Year is threatening him. Yuuri, for his part, doesn’t mention that Victor’s been performing a quadruple Salchow in secret for the past year, thinking it’s better to keep quiet with a wild guy like this. He can clearly remember both of them arriving early to skating practice, together by an unspoken agreement. Yuuri carried his History of Magic notes and prepared to study, while Victor put on his skates, grinning goofily at the thought of getting to perform a quad without his mentor’s nagging. “Yakov would never let you do them, you’re eleven.”

“Like you ’ve ever listened to instructions,” the short blond snarls.

“He has a point,” Yuuri can’t help but tell Victor, hunching his shoulders when the boy looks at him, betrayed.

“I’m not giving up.” Yuri finishes, and then he narrows his eyes at Yuuri, “And who the heck is this?”

“Leave him alone, котёнок,” Victor tuts good-naturedly, getting in between them immediately in a swift move, shielding Yuuri from the boy’s sight with his body without truly looking like that’s what he’s doing. “Yuuri is  -”

“ Don’t call me that .”

“ - my friend, and he doesn’t follow me around all day like a lost puppy.”

He smiles a little, despite himself, at Victor’s possessive tone. Maybe Slytherins are protective, after all.

“Am I supposed to care?” the younger Slytherin rolls his eyes, “I’m just using you for skating skills. I doubt you need two Yuri’s in your life, anyway.”

“And I thought that being a Second Year meant more freedom and seniority privileges,” Victor sighs, walking towards Yuuri and grabbing him by the wrist lightly, startling him momentaneously, “Let’s go, Yuuri, and try to ignore this adorable anxious little kitten.”

“D-don’t call me that, Nikiforov! I’ll kill you! You know I can do it! I know things !”

“Do all Slytherins love threats so much?” Yuuri shivers from the cold again, his teeth chattering. “What does ‘quiche’ got to do with anything, by the way?”

“It’s not ‘quiche’,” Victor rolls his eyes, “It’s котёнок, it means kitten in Russian. I’ve stocked up on annoying nicknames ever since this endearing brat came into the scene.” His friend frowns, his mouth curving in a concerned line,“You’re freezing, Yuuri.”

Victor murmurs a spell under his breath, and his robes heat up slightly, which makes Yuuri turn to him in surprise. He ducks his head, muttering, “It’s a Warming Charm. I get cold in the Dungeons, too. I h-hope it wasn’t like, weird. I didn’t want to be weird!”

“No, no, it was great,” Yuuri smiles at him, glad to see him back to normal, “Thanks, Victor. We haven’t learnt Warming Charms yet, though. You’re really smart”

His friend’s cheeks flush, and he doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Can you stop chit-chatting and go somewhere ? Yeah, Nikiforov has functional brain cells, hurrah.” Yuri calls out from behind them, sounding annoyed, “I’ve got things to do. I’ve got places to be.”

True to his word, Yuri follows them around as they go outside to the grounds, and sits down on the grass at least two meters away from them so “I don’t have to socialize with you peasants”, even though Yuuri offers him a cupcake from the kitchens as a peace offering. Two minutes later, Yuri shuffles just close enough to them to grab the cupcake, lightning fast, and quickly run back to his spot away from all human interaction, staring them down as if to say, “What you looking at?”

“Is he for real?” Yuuri asks, slightly amused despite himself. Even if Yuri can be intimidating, and he sounds angrier the more he talks, he seems harmless. “He’s a figure skater like you, right?”

“Yuri’s from Russia too,” Victor explains, glancing down at his lap, “Young Russian skaters in England tend to band together, since Yakov coaches most of us on the side. My family is famous back in the North, so my parents hired him since I was little. Yuri’s only moved recently. We met this summer when he came to see him in my home.”

He drops his head onto his hands, holding it up with his elbow, and looking up as if he’s reminiscing, “There’s two things I’ve learnt from that: never leave your paintings unsupervised, and that he’s convinced he will ‘surpass’, me.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, you’re incredible,” Yuuri mumbles around one of his chocolate croissants without thinking, before realizing what he’s said, snapping his head up to glance at Victor, who isn’t meeting his eyes, face red, “I mean, like, you’re really good! And, um, you practice a lot! And even if someone gets like, a prize you don’t or something, I think you enjoy yourself a lot! And. I’m going to shut up now.”

His friend laughs, one of his quiet, rare laughs that always manages to make Yuuri’s heart twist in his chest from how sincere it is, “You’re quite cute, sometimes, you know?”

Yuuri buries his face in his hands, humiliated, “I hate my brain.”

“Don’t worry,” Yuri yells at them from his isolated emo spot, “I hate you all enough for both of us.”

…

September and October pass in a daze of schoolwork and exhausting ballet practices that make him crawl back to his dormitory in the evenings unable to properly move his legs. He excuses his lessons with Minako to his friends as “studying sessions”. Minami finds out about them, one day, when he catches Yuuri asking the Headmistress questions about where to buy ballet flats in Hogsmeade in one of the corridors. Fortunately, he promises not to say anything after Yuuri begs shamelessly, even going as far as to kneel on the cold Hogwarts floor.

“I think you’re so cool , Yuuri,” Minami breathes, staring at him with an awestruck expression, “You must be so beautiful while you’re dancing.”

Yuuri thinks of himself two hours before, trying to manage a double turn while Minako snapped

at him and whacked him with her mysteriously reappearing newspaper, and says, “Um, I guess.”

“Can you dance for me?” the Hufflepuff blurts out, his eyes wide, “Please?! I just have to see!”

“...Maybe some other time,” Yuuri chokes out, flushing despite himself, “I’m a bit tired now.”

“I’ll be waiting! Forever, if need be!”

Their other notorious Hufflepuff is also problematic, although his worries are more easily fixed. While Phichit, being the huge nerd that he is,is able to balance his studies and his terrifyingly ingrained obsession with social media without failing any of his classes, Guang-Hong seems to be fighting a losing battle.

“I should study,” the boy says, staring at his phone screen without making any move to do so, “I should be doing homework right now.”

“Now, now, poor baby,” Phichit pats his back reassuringly, “You can do it!”

“Phichit, take his phone away! ”

“Yuuri, how can you even ask me to do that? A man’s phone is his life! His life , Yuuri!”

It’s only after Guang-Hong gets his fifth detention because he keeps putting off homework that Yuuri decides something needs to be done, and Phichit’s not going to be the one to do it.

“Leo,” he tells his friend one day while they’re in Astronomy, sliding into the seat next to him, “Help our Hufflepuff First Year with his studies.”

“Why me?” the Gryffindor frowns. “I’m going to do try-outs for Quidditch this month, and I’ve started to play an instrument, and -”

“Really?” Yuuri gasps, delighted, “I’m absolutely certain that you’re getting into the team; you managed to make both Phichit and me pass Flying last year, and only someone with a gift can do that. What instrument are you playing? Is it something really cool like the Spanish Guitar?

Ooh, or like the violin? I bet that-”

He stops himself, trying to remember why he started talking in the first place, backtracking. “Um. I mean, I don’t care about that right now, although I magically will in about forty seconds. You’ve got awesome grades, Leo, and Guang-Hong needs help,” he puts his palms together, begging shamelessly. “And you’re too nice to say no to someone who needs you. I’m taking advantage here.”

“...I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be like, pure, fluffy people,” Leo grumbles in defeat, resting his arms on a model of the Solar System. Meh. Phichit and Yuuri’s model of the Sun from last year was so much better.

“I hang around Victor a lot,” he smiles cheerfully, “Must’ve rubbed the Slytherin on me.”

“I’ll help the guy,” Leo sighs, dropping his voice down when the teacher comes into the classroom.“But don’t expect any miracles, okay? I’ve never tutored someone. And I’m not going to become the phone police; Phichit would have my head.”

“This is still all your fault,” Yuuri can’t help but say, “You must be aware of this.”

“I liked you better when you didn’t sass back,” his friend sighs again, and punches him playfully on the shoulder to let him know he’s joking. “Now that you’ve got a spine it’s difficult not to be convinced by you.”

Guang-Hong comes back from his first studying session with Leo wide-eyed, stumbling dazedly, almost bumping into Yuuri before he stops him, just short of having them both trip over one of the armchairs in the Common Room.

“He’s so pretty,” Guang-Hong whispers, awed, right before he startles and realizes he’s talking to Yuuri. “Um! I mean! I have to go now.”

He runs away to his dormitories, grabbing a sleeping Minami and shaking him awake, muttering obscenities, before dragging him up with him.

“Were we this wild as First Years?” Yuuri asks Phichit, perplexed, “I don’t think we were this wild.”

“Yuuri; first of all, we’re only Second Years. And don’t you remember when you befriended an international celebrity in your first week?” his friend answers, lying on the couch with his books open on the coffee table. One of them has text underlined several times and the note ‘MUST CHECK MUGGLEPEDIA’ scribbled at the bottom of the page in squiggly handwriting.

“You mean Victor?” he scrunches up his nose, “I don’t think he’s international , per say.”

“You should read the Thai wizarding newspapers,” Phichit yawns sleepily, curling up on the couch, digging his feet into the pillows. “They all think he’s the new Harry Potter, or something.”

“Who’s Harry Potter?” Yuuri cocks his head.

“...Yeah, not going into that. Too late for a History lesson.”

Yuri Plisetsky, on the other hand, continues stirring trouble.

He gets into hour-long arguments with several different Hogwarts paintings, ranging from “ How dare you call me a filthy communist? I shower every day! ” to “Excuse me, what did you say about cats? Huh, wanna repeat it?! I dare you, I fucking dare you- take your hands off me, Nikiforov, I’m going to fight it .”. He gets detention from demanding an A in Astronomy because “I am a star” accompanied by Mila from Slytherin pressing the ‘BADUMTSS’ sound on her phone, and proceeds to ignore the subject for the rest of the term. He goes as far as to try to start a club called “Anti-Nikiforov People For A Better World”, but Professor Baranovskaya rejects it, despite Minako’s protests.

Yuri keeps following Victor around, persistent, so Yuuri eventually gets used to him, even getting to like him. He likes to regard him as kind of Victor’s younger brother or something. He makes the boy cakes, sometimes, when the house elves let him into their kitchen, and tries time after time to draw his grumpy face with different coloured frosting. The elves always tsk at his attempts, wondering why he can’t do it with his wand, but Yuuri loves about cooking as a Muggle. It reminds him of warm afternoons with his mother, the feeble English sunlight making the white counters shine almost ethereally, the soft hiss of a kettle boiling, the smell of pork cutlet bowls being served.

And Yuuri thinks that, sometimes, magic is too informal, detached from people. Anyone can mutter a spell to clean up the dishes, or to make the bed, but actually taking the care to rinse the good ceramics properly, biting his lip to keep his attention focused on what he’s doing; feeling the clean sheets against his fingertips as he folds them, choosing in which way to place the pillows… it transforms objects into containers filled with emotion, with love and care. It’s the essence that makes a kid’s drawing beautiful, despite its simplicity.

So he lets himself fail at drawing Yuri Plisetsky with frosting, even though he could simply fire a spell at the chocolate cake. He enjoys accidentally making the eyes too big, so Yuri looks like a shoujo manga character, which annoys him to no end. The boy eats the pastries, though, making his hateful glares much less potent and threatening, and much more endearing.

The First Year joins figure skating practice on Wednesdays and the weekends after the first week. Minako, during one of their lessons, mentions offhandedly that he does ballet with Professor Baranovskaya, which makes Yuuri respect him much more: anyone who can endure learning turns with that woman has nerves of steel. His skating is wildly different from the other students’, more based on jumps and undeniable strength rather than elemental step sequences and easy spins, but no one can say that it’s not beautiful to watch.

It’s also terrifying, because it means that Yuuri’s got one more person to compare himself to, and he’s not even stepped on the ice yet. It means he stares at it, feeling his nails dig into his skin as he tries not to panic. It means that his heart beats faster as he notices Yuuko and Takeshi spin around together, beginning to practice pair skating with hesitant moves but excited smiles on their faces, and he can notice how much they’ve improved since last year. He feels himself almost slip away, distancing his mind from the sound of blades gliding on ice, the soft panting of the skaters, the way a jump reverberates in his skull when nimble feet land.

“Hey, Yuuri!” Victor calls, gently making his way towards him, smiling brightly. His hair’s a bit dishevelled from practice, but he looks like he’s having fun, skating gleefully, almost playfully , executing tiny excited jumps. He stops when he’s in front of him, his eyes softening as he gets closer. Victor leans towards Yuuri, putting his arms on the barrier to hold himself up, “Wanna ditch and steal some hot chocolate from the kitchens?”

“D-don’t you want to practice for longer?” Yuuri chokes out, embarrassed. God, he’s going to completely ruin Victor’s afternoon, “It’s okay, you don’t have to entertain me.”

“It’s just a ploy to get hot chocolate, to be honest,” the Slytherin winks, so surprisingly that it makes Yuuri startle a little. Victor’s usually more… reserved. “But it’s always more fun with company.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” he accuses, trying to stop the smile from forming on his lips.

“W-what do you mean? Am I burning?! I don’t want to die!”

“It’s a Muggle saying! It’s just- stop trying to take off your pants, Victor! ”

…

After a few weeks, Leo finally gives in and tells Yuuri he’s learning how to play...the viola.

“The viola,” Yuuri repeats, trying to sound impressed. “Why, yes, I love the viola!”

“...you don’t know what a viola is, do you?”

“Um,” Yuuri desperately ransacks his brain, searching for any mention of the instrument before today, but comes up completely empty. “Isn’t that the, um, the Spanish violin?”

Leo sighs, sounding extremely tired, “It’s a string instrument; it is , in fact, similar to the violin. I like it better, though, it’s got...character.”

“It’s got character,” Yuuri echoes. He brightens up, shoving his feet under his butt as he sits up on the Gryffindor Common Room couch. “Will you play for me? That would be so epic .”

“Um,” Leo mumbles, “I’m not very good at it yet. My mom says I sound like a screeching cat. It’s only my first year, though!”

“Oh, come on,” Yuuri nudges him encouragingly, eager to hear him play. He’s probably amazing at it, and doesn’t want to show off. “Shooooow meeee.”

“Let’s make a deal,” the Gryffindor says suddenly, making Yuuri tilt his head in question, “I’ll play my viola for you...if you tell me what you’re doing when you’re ‘studying’.”

He freezes, “W-what? What do you mean?”

“Phichit thinks we need to give you some time,” Leo gestures as if Phichit is in the room, pointing at some indefinite point in the background, “Because you get anxious about some things, and you should get some time to figure it out. I think that letting you suffer and torturing yourself about not telling us will just make you more anxious.”

Yuuri stares at him, dumbfounded, “I d-didn’t -”

“You’re easy to read, when you’re with us,” Leo tells him softly, standing up from the chair in the Common Room and shuffling until he sits down next to Yuuri. “...I felt really bad at my birthday party last August.”

Oh god. “I’m so sorry, Leo, I’m such a bad friend, I didn’t mean to -”

“I felt really bad because my friend didn’t tell me why he was so obviously not okay,” Leo carries on, as if he didn’t say anything. “When I would have gladly cancelled the whole party just to have fun with you, okay? I know I’m not your best friend, like Phichit is, and I’m okay with that. Guang-Hong says I have an inferiority complex or whatever, and I really don’t know where he reads that stuff. So yeah, I know I’m not your favourite.” Leo hunches his shoulders, making himself smaller in a movement that seems unconscious. “But I still like you guys. And I want you to trust me.”

Yuuri closes his eyes, feeling his heartbeat quicken. After a few seconds of trying to calm himself down, his breathing is steady enough that he feels he can talk again, so he chooses his words carefully.

“You’re an idiot, Leo,” he tells him, turning until they’re face to face in the couch, frowning deeply. “Whatever idea you have in your head that I don’t like you or trust you is really, really wrong. It’s just…” he bites his lip, taking a moment to find the words he needs, “sometimes I don’t trust myself , you know? I think I’m being too weird, or something, and I don’t want my friends to realize that. It’s really complicated. I,” he looks down at his lap,  his fingernails digging into his thighs, “I’m really happy that you’re my friend, Leo.”

“...You’re too cute for me to make a compelling argument,” the Gryffindor mutters, sounding suspiciously relieved, and Yuuri, in a spur-of-the-moment Phichit action, throws his arms around his neck, knocking him down until they’re both lying on the sofa, squeezing him until Leo wheezes.

“You’re a great friend, Leoooo,” he whines, hugging him closer, “I’m sorry I suck so much.”

“It’s cool,” Leo chokes out, “I mean, you’re cool.”

They go up to Leo’s room after that, because his roommates are out playing on Hogwarts ground, and Yuuri paints Leo’s nails while they talk, the Gryffindor nodding approvingly at the job he’s doing every couple of minutes, snorting when Yuuri tries to write his initials on his left hand fingernails.

“It’s ballet, what I’m doing,” Yuuri manages to tell him, once some time has passed, his knees pressed against his chest. “Minako is teaching me ballet.”

Leo scrunches up his nose, his arms resting on the back of his desk chair, “Isn’t that like, super hard? That’s impressive.”

“It really isn’t,” Yuuri blurts out, desperate to finally talk about it, months of stories, worries and anecdotes piled up, “I’m really bad at it, and Minako whacks me with her newspaper a lot. I’m starting to flinch every time I see the Daily Prophet.”

The Gryffindor snorts, “Nice teaching techniques, Minako .” He winks at Yuuri, “Getting friendly with the Headmistress, are we?”

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his knees and drawing them closer to his body. “She’s my ballet instructor. Apparently that’s like, my mentor or something. She got saddled with a shitty apprentice.”

“I don’t think you’re shitty at all,” Leo tells him, and his voice is so inherently honest that it startles Yuuri, makes his head snap up to look at him. “I’m willing to bet you can dance beautifully.”

It’s not that much different to what Minami said, when he found out, in his giddy surprise, but the meaning behind it is a whole another story. Leo is saying, quietly, that he doesn’t believe the things that Yuuri claims as bad, the insults he throws at himself in his mind, the way he hides certain parts of himself, embarrassed. Leo is saying, with bright dark eyes, that he wants to see it for himself, and judge.

“Well,” Yuuri whispers, overwhelmed, “I mean, I could show you. Maybe. Some day.”

“...Will you be wearing a tutu?”

“You jerk !”

“I had to ask that, Phichit would have never forgiven me if I didn’t -!”

…

Victor and Yuuri are studying lazily in the library during one of their free periods, while Yuri’s got Flying (so he can’t carry around his ‘I am the 1%!’ sign and follow them stubbornly), when Victor says, voice low, “I’ve got something to show you.”

Yuuri turns his head, curious, looking away from his Herbology textbook. Last year, they mostly met up to ‘study’, talking about Potions and throwing paper balls at each other when the Librarians weren’t looking, giggling stupidly; but these past few months he escapes to the library with Victor to do anything , because the Hufflepuff Common Room is such a mess with their loud First Years. That’s the only reason. Nothing else.

“What?” Yuuri asks, frowning slightly when he sees the serious expression on Victor’s face. “Oh my god, did you kill someone? Victor, tell me you didn’t kill someone!”

“I didn’t kill anyone,” his friend mutters, pouting slightly, as if he’s disappointed that Yuuri would think that. “I’m a delight! The magazines say so.”

“Sorry,” he tells him, feeling a smile curl his lips, “What did you want to show me?”

Victor glances around them, as if checking to see no one’s looking at them, “We have to go to the Slytherin dungeons.”

“B-but Yuri always says people from other Houses don’t go into the Slytherin Common Room,” Yuuri whispers nervously. “I don’t want to die.”

“Dear Merlin , Yuuri, no one is going to die,” Victor crosses his arms over his chest, faltering slightly. “Just… just trust me, okay? I wouldn’t let you get hurt. I’m a very powerful wizard.”

Yuuri flushes at hearing that, feeling, oddly, like some damsel in a story who can’t protect herself, running to her prince for protection, and he mumbles, “I know a few curses too, you know.”

“I do know,” his friend rolls his eyes, closing Yuuri’s Herbology book for him. “And you’re too nice to actually use them.”

“I just think throwing jinxes at people is really rude,” he says defensively, lifting his chin up, “It’s part of my principles.”

“Sure,” Victor smirks, and then lowers his voice until he’s whispering, “Your cute principles.”

Yuuri throws a paper ball at him. They get kicked out.

Victor leads him down to the dungeons, being forced to drag him by the arm whenever Yuuri hesitates, and offers him his robes once the temperature drops near the entrance to the Common Room.

“It’s not like I’m naked under them, or anything,” he sighs, after Yuuri squeaks in embarrassment and refuses him profusely, “And I’ll have you know I have a healthy Russian body.”

“G-good to know,” he stutters, feeling slightly uncomfortable with imagining Victor naked in all his Russian glory. “Now, how are you going to save me from the furious horde of Slytherins waiting to kill me once I cross the door?”

Victor steels himself, lifting his chin up, “You’ll see.”

The Slytherin murmurs the password to open the stone door, the emerald snake hissing menacingly while it moves slowly, and they both step in.

For a moment, Yuuri is astounded.

The Slytherin Common Room looks like something out of a BBC TV series, disturbingly similar to how Yuuri feels time travelling to the past would feel like. There’s tapestries hanging from the stone walls, the threads green and silver in all cases, portraits of stoic wizards with big noses and dark eyes. Instead of the warm, soft oil lamps from the Hufflepuff Common Room, this place is illuminated exclusively by torches in uncountable shades of vibrant green, giving it a gloomy atmosphere. In the centre of the room, there’s five sofas arranged together as if to have some obscure council meeting, in a perfect circle with a coffee table in the middle. To the back, there’s two extravagant staircases leading downwards, one in each side of the room, pearly white with intricate designs on the handrails.

The Slytherins themselves are all lounging on the green velvet sofas, some of them chatting idly while the rest work on their assignments diligently. All of the students, even the Second Years, have immaculate appearances, just like Yuuri’s used to from Victor’s careful grooming, although it’s weird to see them still looking perfect even while they’re resting together.

When they come in, no one even bats an eyelash, except a few First Years who are quickly scolded by older students. It almost feels like they’re not even there, honestly.

Chris is sitting on an armchair near a fireplace in the far right, a textbook open on his lap, and he’s the only one who doesn’t immediately dismiss them once he sees them, “You brought the Hufflepuff, then. I do love Hufflepuff Yuuri.”

“Yeah, I did,” Victor says, eyes flashing. It feels, oddly, like this is a standoff.

One of the older Slytherins’ eye twitches, as if she’s itching to make a comment about that.

Chris just grins, lying back in his chair comfortably, “Maybe he could hang out with all of us, then? We don’t bite, really.”

“I don’t know about that,” his friend smiles. Except...that isn’t the usual smile he saves for Yuuri, the one he knows well enough that he could draw it with his eyes closed. Full of gentleness and hesitant pure joy, so fragile it could break at any moment but so impossibly beautiful that Yuuri feels special , and wanted, in a way he’s never truly felt before, once it’s directed at him.

No. This one is a killer smile, biting, aggressive, like Victor’s brain is commanding his lips to act in a certain way, rather than letting his expression reflect his happiness. It sends out a very clear message; challenge me .

“I don’t think you’re Yuuri’s kind of crowd.” Victor carries on, without realizing Yuuri’s frozen up, lost and intimidated beyond belief by the asphyxiating atmosphere. “He usually likes people who aren’t self-absorbed jerks.

Chris flinches then, his cool disappearing, and he hunches his shoulders, biting his lower lip.

An older Slytherin girl, the one who twitched at Victor’s previous comment, snaps her head up looking straight at him, “Victor, please, that’s uncalled for. Christophe is trying to be nice to your friend, despite your behaviour. Don’t be a child .”

“Victor,” Yuuri whispers, feeling his throat tighten. The air is charged, something like electricity crackling between both boys, making it hard for him to breathe. “Victor, I can go -”

“No, p-please, don’t, Yuuri,” his friend turns to look at him, his eyes softening immediately. It’s such a stark contrast from the way he stared at Chris that it almost gives him whiplash. “We’ll just go to my room, okay?”

Yuuri nods sluggishly, his mouth dry. He needs to get out of here. He’s not okay. He can’t breathe . Victor grabs his hand almost absently as he turns around quickly, glancing at Chris once before pulling him towards the staircase at the left side briskly, his hand sweating slightly. They go down, their footsteps echoing in the empty room, accompanied only by Yuuri’s harsh panting as he chokes on oxygen, feeling weak and ridiculous.

He needs to sit down now .

What stupid, pathetic person can’t even breathe? Is it really so hard to do the bare minimum to survive?

At the end of the stairs, there’s three long corridors, each of them with doors on both sides. Victor doesn’t stop before heading to the one on the far right, dragging him behind without any force, and pauses before the fourth door down.

He hesitates, suddenly letting go of Yuuri’s wrist, turning to look at him, when his eyes widen.

“Yuuri...are you okay?” Victor asks, sounding worried. “Y-you don’t look okay.”

“I-I can’t breathe,” Yuuri chokes out, his heart speeding up as the panic increases. He kneels down quickly, only too aware of the fact that it’s better than ending up falling on the ground because he can’t control the way his legs tremble. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to remember the exercises his doctor recommended. Yuuri can do this. He can. He can .

Can you count to ten deep breaths with me? , he remembers them saying, and starts counting in his head; one, two, three…

It works, thank Gods, because after reaching eight after the third time counting, he can start to feel the trickle of oxygen sliding down his throat, the sweet bliss that accompanies a breath he doesn’t have has to fight tooth and nail for. His legs are still shaking, there’s nothing to be done about that, but he didn’t actually get a full-blown panic attack. That’s what’s important. He managed. He was okay . He is okay.

“Yuuri?!” Victor asks, sounding panicked, fluttering close to him, his hands wavering in mid-air, as if not sure whether to touch him or not, “Yuuri, what is going on?!”

“I-I’m okay,” he rasps, carefully standing up, trying not to fall, “Don’t touch me, please.”

His friend’s hands immediately move behind his back, as if responding to an order he’s given, almost comical, if it weren’t for the way Yuuri’s head is spinning even after he’s mostly stable. For a moment, he considers not saying anything, considers simply telling Victor that he has to leave, that something is wrong with him physically, and he got sick.

But then he remembers Chris’s dim eyes after he heard Victor’s comment, recalls the way every Slytherin in the room seemed to bite their tongue at the words he spoke, and doesn’t think he can do it.

“Victor, what were you doing back there?” he whispers, confused and unsure about what to think. “You were so rude ; Chris was only being nice, I don’t -”

Victor steps forward, his eyes focused on him, “Yuuri, we can talk about that another day! What happened? Tell me -!”

“I don’t have to tell you anything!” Yuuri shouts, hunching his shoulders and moving away from him. “And I don’t want to tell you anything, until you go and apologize to the others!”

“ What ?” Victor looks astounded, his eyes wide in surprise. “You don’t know them, Yuuri, okay? I,” he falters, “I know it seemed bad , and I didn’t mean to say that, but honestly, they’re not innocent, either.”

“Victor Nikiforov,” Yuuri frowns, feeling anger rise within him, fanned by the memories of his panic. “I don’t think- I don’t like seeing you like that, no matter what they do.”

“Well, I don’t care about what you like seeing me as!” Victor yells at him, pissed, startling Yuuri into backing away. “I’m not your freaking project , Yuuri! I’m not some perfect genius you imagined and that you can say what I do, or tell me how to act! Snap out of it!”

Silence.

Then:

“Fuck,” Victor whispers, his lips trembling, “Yuuri, I didn’t - I didn’t mean -”

“Just like you didn’t mean to say that to Chris, right?” Yuuri mutters, feeling tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “Because I don’t know anything, right, Victor?”

“Yuuri, you’re my friend - please, don’t leave - I’m sorry!”

“I have to go,” he chokes out, trying to move towards the staircase and getting blocked by Victor’s body, hurrying to stop him, panicked, “I need to go. I need..”

I need Mom.

No, I can’t get that. She can’t know what happened - what almost happened. No.

I need Phichit .

“Yuuri, please don’t be mad,” Victor begs, blue eyes pleading, “Please, please don’t leave -”

But Yuuri’s already walking past him, chest heaving, mind drowning in swirling thoughts and memories that have begun to haunt him once more.

…

Yuuri finds Phichit after being led outside by Chris, who doesn’t accept his sorry excuse for an apology in Victor’s stead.

“He’s just -confused,” he whispers, despite the fact that even thinking about him hurts , physically, in his side, like an arrow digging into him. “He really wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“Well, he hasn’t wanted to for a long time, now,” the Slytherin mutters in response. “Look, Yuuri, you’re pretty much the only friend V- Nikiforov’s got. He barely talks to anyone in Slytherin except to insult them, and he locks himself in his room the rest of the time. I honestly don’t know how you two work.”

“What?” Yuuri frowns, dumbfounded. “He doesn’t… hang out with you? That wasn’t just a fight?”

Chris doesn’t meet his eyes, “Ask him yourself, Yuuri. Maybe you can get him to talk to anyone. He’s being a jerk, basically.”

Phichit takes one look at him, standing before Christophe Giacometti with the other boy’s green-and-silver scarf wrapped around his throat, eyes red from crying all the way to his Common Room, and says, “Oh, Yuuri, what happened to you?”

Yuuri sniffs slightly instead of answering. Chris just shrugs when Phichit asks him, giving Yuuri’s shoulder one last squeeze before saying goodbye and walking away, reminding him to return his scarf in their next Potions class.

His friend brings him inside, shielding him from the other Hufflepuff’s worried questions, remaining completely silent until they’re in their room. Once they’re both inside, he sits Yuuri down, kneels beside the bed, and grabs his hand lightly, his dark eyes worried, “Yuuri, do you need anything? Do I have to beat someone up?”

“You can’t beat anyone up,” he mumbles, looking down at his lap, “You once tried to break a plastic wand I gave you and almost sprained your wrist.”

“I can make Seung-Gil do it,” Phichit waves it away. “He loves me.”

Yuuri can’t help a tiny giggle. Lee Seung-Gil barely tolerates anyone, but he’s often seen Phichit trailing after him happily, and the Ravenclaw doesn’t seem to mind excessively. “It’s okay, Phichit.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened? I promise you not to be weird about it.”

“It’s just,” he curls his fingers into fists, frustrated, “Victor...surprised me. He did something I really didn’t expect from him. And. I’m not sure whether I know him or not? But I also feel really guilty about doubting him?”

Phichit’s voice is carefully neutral, “What did he do?”

His cheeks flush in embarrassment. “He was really rude to the other Slytherins. I know it’s stupid, okay! I know it’s okay to not always be polite and stuff! But…” he gnaws on his lower lip a little, psyching himself up, “But I really hate it when people hurt others like that. I...I didn’t think Victor would be mean .”

In that moment, Victor reminded him of Muggle elementary school more than anything at Hogwart ever has. In that moment, Victor became his bullies, his fears, his insecurities. Someone who just had to make fun of someone else, who saw people peacefully going their own way and insisted on destroying that comfortable atmosphere. Someone who wanted to hurt .

“Oh boy,” his friend mutters, “Yuuri, have you actually ever seen Victor interact with someone who isn’t you?”

“Of course!” he frowns at him, not knowing where he’s going with this. “He skates with Yuuko, Takeshi and the others all the time! And he’s around Yuri Plisetsky almost every day.”

“But does he talk to any of them?” Phichit raises an eyebrow.

Yuuri open his mouth, ready to say yes without thinking, but he stops himself. Has he actually seen Victor talk to the other students in the rink? He talks to Yakov a lot, that’s true, whining and demanding he let him perform another maddening jump or spin, and yet he’s not sure if he exchanges more than just simple ‘hellos’ and ‘good mornings’ with the other skaters. And although Yuri is constantly around him, yapping and bothering Victor as much as he can, they don’t seem like friends , per say. In fact...he’s almost certain that Yuuri himself talks to the Slytherin First Year more than him.

“... Not really,” he admits in a small voice.

“You can’t really say how a person is if you only ever hang out just the two of you,” Phichit scolds him gently, sighing, “You’re such a noob at this.”

“... Did you just call me a noob at people?”

“ Moving on ,” his friend hurries, patting his knee, “You should maybe try to talk to Victor more and meet his friends? Before you judge him, I mean. After he apologizes for upsetting you. Because if he doesn’t apologize, I know a gorgeous Ravenclaw who would gladly end his life.”

“Careful,” Yuuri teases, choosing to ignore the suggestion for now, “Leo will get jealous.”

“What Leo and I have is something completely different,” Phichit plays along, sighing dramatically. “It’s much more spiritual. Now that he’s replaced me with Guang-Hong, though, I must seek other companions.” He nudges him lightly, “Maybe you should try meeting some new people too. I’m sure Minami would love to introduce you around.”

Yuuri makes a face, “No Minami. Minami scares me.”

“Minami is adorable , and thinks you hung the moon,” Phichit shakes his head. “Try to talk to him every once in a while, before he dies of loneliness.”

“Yeah, okay,” Yuuri mumbles.

For a few minutes, there is silence  between them, his friend still kneeling on the floor, their hands linked together. The room is warm, as Hufflepuff rooms often are, after Phichit has gone around bribing the Fifth Years to use their Warming Charms on them (he wonders if Victor learnt it from an older student, too), and the duvet on his bed feels soft. Yuuri thinks, absently, that he could stay with Phichit and Leo here forever, and he’d be happy.

But he’d miss Victor.

His voice is low when he speaks again, “Phichit, do you think that Victor likes me? Or...or is he just pretending?  I don’t...I really want to be his friend.”

“I’ve seen that snake of yours wander into our compartment ‘by accident’ enough times to know he thinks you’re awesome,” Phichit tells him, smirking slightly. “And nobody could study with you for so many hours without getting something else other than Potions knowledge. You always make these annoying sounds when you study. Stop trying to stab yourself with your quill!”

“I’m used to ballpoint pens,” Yuuri says defensively. He hesitates, “You really think he’s not faking?”

“I really think so, dummy,” his friend sighs, standing up from the floor and sitting next to him without separating their joined hands, nudging his shoulder lightly. “I hate to say it after you look so miserable, but Nikiforov probably just messed up one time and didn’t realize you’d react like that. Wait until he comes crawling back and hear him out.”

Yuuri thinks that it’s quite sweet of Phichit to support Victor like that, even though he’s never really hung out with him, until he adds, “And the offer to assassinate him is always open.”

“I’m telling Mari,” he tells him.

“ Noooo , she’ll make me listen to boybands!”

…

Over the next few weeks, he and Victor don’t really talk that much. They sit as far from each other as they can during Potions, exchanging murmured instructions when they truly need to, and separate the moment they leave the class. Yuuri stops going to figure skating practice, even though he’s practically there as much as the skaters by now. Instead, he spends his free time sulking in the Library alone, missing Victor sitting by his side, playing with his hair from time to time and reciting gross ingredients in his best British accent.

“You’re pining,” Yuuko sighs when she finds him reviewing his Charms homework for the fourth time in two days, despite the fact that it’s due for the following week. “And it’s not cute.”

Yuuri makes a face at her, sighing and hunching his shoulders down, pressing his finger against the bridge of his glasses to hold them up, “Ugh. Friends are complicated.”

“That’s why Hufflepuffs are such geniuses,” she teases him, poking his side and making him yelp in surprise. “Come on, Takeshi said that the Headmistress and Professor Baranovskaya are having a duel outside. I think there’s a chocolate bar involved? You can’t miss it!”

...

He mostly survives the rest of November like that, through his others friends’ nagging and ceaseless suggestions to go out and have fun. Minako, during their ballet practices, even dismisses him early a few times, to his complete surprise.

“Look, Katsuki,” she raises an eyebrow, “You look like a kicked puppy every time I tell you to enjoy yourself. There’s only so much I can torture you before the school gets angry. Go and get ice cream or whatever.”

Yuuri flushes, “I’m okay, Minako.”

“Sure,” she mutters, biting her lip in thought, resting her back against the barre on the other side of the room. They practice inside a weird room in the seventh floor in the left corridor that’s apparently a ballet studio, although Yuuri’s never heard anyone mention it before. “Um, kid, you can talk to me whenever, you know that, right?”

He swallows, looking down. His feet hurt from practice, the his toes feel all pressed together even he fortunately doesn’t study pointe, sore and aching for a rest. “Thanks, Minako. But I’m really okay.”

Yuuri is okay. He just… has to work up the nerve to talk to Victor without dissolving into a blubbering mess of apologies and begging him to take Yuuri back. He’ll do it. Any day now.

Phichit and the Gryffindors organize a small party for his birthday, although his friends ask for his permission first.

“In case you’re um, uncomfortable with anything,” Leo explains, looking at him pointedly, “So that you have the best time possible.”

“Thanks, Leo,” Yuuri says, touched. “I’m really doing fine, you know, I don’t get why everyone is so on edge around me -”

“So, should I invite Victor?” Takeshi cuts in, crossing his arms over his chest.

The desk lamp on one of the Hufflepuff desks suddenly explodes, causing Minami to screech like a dying rat and start screaming about the Apocalypse. Guang-Hong, for his part, buries his head in his book, wiggling his toes into the sofa, and mumbling, “I hate Hogwarts so much.”

Leo, almost as if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, pats him on the head gently.

“Yeah,” Takeshi says, when he sees Yuuri’s flushed cheeks. He can’t believe he did that, he hasn’t done uncontrolled magic since he was eleven! “I’m glad Gryffindork thought to ask you.”

“...Takeshi, you’re a Gryffindor too, you know.”

“I’m the only Gryffindor clever enough to come up with that pun, though.”

In the end, they mostly invite Yuuri’s small group of friends, Phichit’s Ravenclaw buddies per his request (“I want you to meet them, Yuuri, and I’ll make sure they’ll behave! We should, er, hide the knives and the Rubix Cube. Never let a Ravenclaw near a Rubix Cube.”), and Chris, to his friends’ surprise.

“What?” Yuuri asks defensively when they all stare at him. “Chris is cool.”

“Yeah,” Yuuko says slowly, “But he’ll probably spend the entire party trying to find a way to dance to La Macarena.”

“...The hell?”

“Christophe Giacometti at Christmas parties becomes a severely drunk Spanish man,” Phichit informs him helpfully. “Seung-Gil’s told me about it. Apparently it’s beautiful to watch.”

The party goes on, Macarena and whatnot included. Yuuri meets Lee Seung-Gil, who stares him down with intimidating dark eyes and immediately says, “Ballet,” causing him to spit out his drink of Coke in an embarrassing bubbly mess. He also meets Emil Nekola, a friendly Gryffindor who hangs out with Michele Crispino from Slytherin. Mila steps by for a few minutes, dragging Yuri Plisetsky with her, glowering at everyone like he’s got a special plan to kill them.

“He’s just mad because he wasn’t invited,” Mila whispers to him secretively, “He’s like that one witch in Sleeping Beauty, except with more eyeliner.”

“But I did invite him,” Yuuri frowns, confused. “I even personalized his invitation and doodled cute kittens!”

“Oh, yeah,” Mila smiles sheepishly, “I forgot to give it to him. Oops?”

The thing is: Yuuri’s birthday is stellar. It’s even better than last year, when he only really spent his time with Leo and Phichit, and it’s better than all the years before that, when he didn’t spend his time with anyone but his family. It’s great, it really is! He gets great presents and a huge cake from the kitchen house elves, who call him “Little Piglet” because of his habit to always check the pork cutlet bowl recipe. It’s so mortifying.

But… he can’t help thinking about Victor. About Victor, last year, his eyes half-shut, saying, “Yuuri, I’m sorry I didn’t give you a present.” He looked remorseful, even guilty.

Did he… did he get him a present this year, maybe? Would Victor like to give it to him? Does he even want to talk to him anymore, or has he already found newer, better friends, who are beautiful and don’t freak out about stupid things?

“Good night, Victor,” Yuuri can’t help but whisper into his pillow, right before he falls asleep, clutching at his sheets protectively.

He may have imagined it, but he thinks he can hear Phichit’s voice, a dazed murmur floating in his mind between his consciousness and dreams, “You two are ridiculous.”

…

The day after his birthday is a Saturday, thankfully, so he’s woken by the soft tendrils of the Scottish winter Sun creeping in through the small windows in their dormitory, tickling at his eyelids playfully.

Yuuri groans lazily, hugging his pillow tighter to himself in attempt to hide from the harsh reality of the world, crushing his body against his mattress with the kind of vindictive frustration only a kid waking up early can manage.

“Um,” a terribly familiar voice says, and Yuuri freezes .

Almost like he’s in slow motion, he slowly lifts his head from his pillow, feeling the horror being drawn on his features steadily, his eyes wide, and turns until yep, there’s Victor, sitting on one of the terribly uncomfortable chairs that are always in the Hufflepuff Common Room.

“Victor,” Yuuri squeaks, startled, hurrying to cover himself with his sheets, nevermind the fact that his pajamas hide absolutely every inch of his body, cheeks glowing red. “What are you doing here?”

“Apologizing,” his friend mumbles, not meeting his eyes, “For being a dick. Phichit let me in, after I promised him something weird. Do you know what ‘unlimited minutes’ mean? Is that a spell?”

“You came to...apologize?” Yuuri whispers, swallowing hard. “I...should apologize, too, Victor. I, just -”

“Let me go first!” the Slytherin interrupts, holding his hands up as if to stop him, setting him back in his place with his determined blue gaze. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and opens them again. “Yuuri, I was a total jerk, I made you uncomfortable, and then I said some really stupid things to you. I deserve to be shunned from this world, and I will plead and beg and do whatever you want if it gets you to forgive me.”

Yuuri stares at him, jaw hitting the floor. “...I was hoping for ‘I’m sorry’.”

“Oh, shit ,” Victor curses, “I forgot ‘I’m sorry’ in an apology? Seriously? Yakov would skin me, fuck, I practiced this like, twenty fucking times, I’m so sorry, Yuuri - hmph!”

Yuuri throws his arms around him, wrapping them tightly around his neck and hanging on for dear life, letting out a nervous giggle at the sound of the chair squeaking in protest at their combined weight. His feet and nose are cold once they get out from the comfort of his bed in the early mornings, but Victor’s good, too. He’s not saying much at the moment, awkwardly hugging him back, movements stiff but without any hesitation. Oddly enough, his skin feels like it’s growing warmer as he hugs Yuuri, a definite plus.

“Thank you, Victor,” Yuuri murmurs, hugging him tightly and burying his head in his neck, kind of happy he’s the short one. It would be really difficult for Victor to do this to him, given how tall and skinny he is. He’d probably just poke him everywhere. “I’m glad you still want to be my friend.”

“O-of course I do!” Victor sounds choked, for some reason, eagerly hugging him back once he’s gotten used to the feel of it. “Y-you’re my best friend, Yuuri.”

Amazed, he pulls back to stare at him, noticing absently that his friend is blushing like mad, his eyes wide. Probably not used to hugging, is he?

“I’m your best friend?” he breathes, clutching at Victor’s forearm and pulling excitedly, “I’m your best friend?!”

Victor snorts, rolling his eyes but not shoving him from his lap, lifting his chin up, “You’re such a kid. It’s okay to have best friends, you know.”

“I’m your bestest friend ever, right? The best of the best?  Winner of the Friends Award? Best Wizard of the Year?”

“You’re going to get an ego and all,” Victor huffs at him, but he’s not denying it. His playful expression drops, though, replaced by a purse of his lips. “Yuuri… I’m really happy that you’re not too mad and stuff, don’t get me wrong! But… I want to tell you some...stuff. About me. And about Slytherin. Mostly about me, though.”

“Well,” Yuuri bites his lower lip, “I’d like to hear it.”

“...Would you mind getting off me? I’m not exactly used to holding you up.”

“Oh!” Yuuri flushes, quickly scrambling off Victor’s lap and scurrying into the bed again, pressing his knees against his chest, grabbing his sheets and pulling them up until they cover almost all of his body. Victor looks...nervous, fidgeting and glancing all around the room, crossing his arms over his chest, and Yuuri tries to rack his brain for some of the advice his doctor’s given to him over the years. “Okay. Um, you don’t have to say anything you’re not comfortable with -”

“I don’t really have any friends besides you,” Victor blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s like, I just really mess up when talking to people. You just…” he lets out a labored breath. “You make talking so easy .”

“Oh,” Yuuri mumbles, not really sure what to say. “Are people in Slytherin...really mean? Is that why you don’t like them?”

“...No,” Victor admits. “They’re… they’re pretty nice, most of them. I’ve known Chris since I was little, he skates too. I just…” he drops his gaze to the floor. “I never say the right thing. Everyone thinks I’m so charismatic and smart because I’m good at magic that they’re just so disappointed when I say something dumb. And it just. I get annoyed.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says stupidly.

He tries to imagine Victor, arriving at Hogwarts last year, just as excited about it as all of them were, his blue eyes alight and joyful, and trying to make friends at Slytherin. Saying hello, enthusiastically waving at his housemates, sparking up conversations with people his age, daring, just like he always is around Yuuri. He doesn’t truly know how much the wizarding world reveres Victor, to be honest, but Phichit’s comments and how some of the girls in their year behave gives him a pretty good idea that Victor is big in the news. Sometimes he accidentally lets things slip like “Oh, yeah, and I have to get ready for that press conference tomorrow”, and Yuuri will do a doubletake.

So how hard must it be, to have everyone place expectations and thoughts about who he is, only for it not to match up with the true Victor Yuuri knows, the one who likes collecting old figurines and reads as much as he’s got time to? He doesn’t want to say that it’s okay for Victor lash out at his housemates, to try to hurt them when they can’t understand each other, but … but he knows first-hand that sometimes fitting in is difficult.

“That’s why… I don’t do well with others,” Victor chokes out, sounding as if he’s in physical pain, his words trembling with hidden truths. “You simply talk as if you don’t care about how silly I sound, and laugh at my jokes, and…”

“Hey, Victor,” Yuuri murmurs, moving a little bit closer, trying to get the boy to look at him, “It’s alright, okay? I’m not going to think anything bad.”

“Yeah,” Victor hums, giving him a small but incandescent smile, taking Yuuri’s breath away quietly. “You’re too good to me sometimes.”

“Well,” Yuuri squeaks, “I’m a Hufflepuff. It’s like, our thing.” He hesitates, but he has an idea, and he can’t bear the thought of Victor suffering like this. “I’m not good at talking either, you know? I’m just lucky because Phichit and Leo are so nice to me.”

“Chulanont?” Victor mumbles, cocking his head, “You mention him a lot.”

He doesn’t sound pleased about it, per say. Yuuri nods, though, feeling an idea spark, “Phichit is great. He always knows how to make me feel better! You should totally meet him, that way we can slowly get you more used to people! And I promise, Phichit is really cool about stuff. He knows about my, um,” he bites his lip, but powers on, “about my anxiety, and he’s been really nice and considerate about it.”

“Yeah,” Victor mutters, not very excited, “I could...do that.”

“Please?” Yuuri pleads, inching closer until their knees are almost touching, the sheets separating them, trying to convince him. “Please, just give it a go? We can like, just hang out at the Library or something. If you’re okay with it! No pressure!”

Victor flushes, looking away, “I, um, I could manage that. Just...don’t expect me to be better immediately, okay?”

“Of course not!” Yuuri nods, already imagining how he’s going to tell Phichit about this. “I wouldn’t -”

“And anyway,” his friend looks awfully guilty, “I came to give you your belated birthday present.”

He blinks, almost not sure he heard it right, “My...present?”

“Yeah,” Victor mumbles, turning back in his chair and getting a small green box from behind it, staring at it for a few seconds before he shoves it at Yuuri, biting his lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you earlier. I keep messing up your birthday.”

“It’s fine!” Yuuri answers, already opening the box, curiosity getting the best of him, “We’ve got so many years to get it right! Oh, -oh.”

It’s...a bracelet.

Actually...it’s almost identical to the bracelet Yuuri gave Victor for his birthday last year. The colours are different, something mixed between dark blue and an ashy grey that seems so much brighter than any paint he’s seen before, shimmering with the unmistakable glow of magic fluttering around it happily. It’s wider than the one he gave Victor, the band larger, and the edges are curled around as if they’re some type of flower, ruffles that make it seem like… like a favour, something from a remote medieval era. As he touches in, fingers wavering in mid-air right before deciding to poke at it, two black badgers run across the bracelet, startling an amazed gasp out of him, before dissolving into bubbly ink.

Hello, Yuuri! I hope you have a magical day!

“Oh, Victor,” he whispers, struggling not to cry. He doesn’t want to start sobbing after receiving a present, that would be so rude! “Oh, Victor .”

“You don’t like it,” the boy says suddenly, sounding panicked, “It’s okay, I can get you anything else, I should never have taken Mila’s advice, what was I thinking -”

“I love it,” Yuuri tells him firmly, putting it on and smiling with delight when the ink spells out: You look beautiful today, Yuuri! But well, that’s everyday for you, isn’t it? “It’s the best birthday gift ever.”

Tentatively, almost like someone opening their eyes as they gaze down on an unending fall, only too conscious of the danger and risks lying below them and yet enjoying the taste the thrill, Victor smiles.

…

Christmas holidays catch him by surprise, after that. Mari and he go back home, weighted down with bags of luggage and promises to bring back “a cool Santa iPhone case” for Phichit.

He hasn’t managed to set Victor and Phichit up in what he mentally labels as “the blind date” yet, but he’s determined to do it the minute he gets back from break. In the mean time, his friend is slowly trying to be nicer to Yuri, per his request. It would help if the younger Slytherin helped, but well. Miracles don’t happen from one day to another.

Yuuri spends winter break laughing at Phichit’s stupid messages on his inbox, writing awfully fancy letters to Victor, if he says so himself, and desperately finishing up all his Christmas presents. His parents take the whole family out for dinner one day, catching up on how they’re doing, and Mari tells everyone that Yuuri is secretly running an underground drug cartel in the school. Mom says, “That’s nice dear, shows great leadership skills.”

Ballet, as always, allows him no vacation. He’s got to do his stretches every day, and Minako has told him she isn’t allowing him into her classroom until he manages a perfect double pirouette.

“Hey, Yuuri,” his dad calls out to him one day, after dinner’s ended and he’s gone up to his room, lying on his bed and trying to decide which ridiculously expensive cream-coloured paper is the best to use, “You coming down for some tea?”

“Proper Japanese tea!” his mom adds.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” he yells, grabbing his favourite swirly pen, “I’m writing a letter to Victor!”

He’s not sure if he imagines his mom saying “Again?” or not.

…

Yuuri, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! I can’t believe there is such a thing as ‘portable chargers’, but you just made this the best Christmas ever! Also, the nail polish is cute, but I KNOW Leo’s is nicer. You like his nails way too much. #Not Fair (you can’t stop me from using hashtags when you’re not around hahahhahaha).

Yuuri,

Stop sending me purple nail polish. Phichit thinks you don’t love him anymore. Thanks for the card, though, love the music that plays when you open it! I’ve recently started hearing about this new band, and I think you might like them! Tell you more when we see each other again.

Katsuki.

Fuck off.

(I’m keeping the muffins, though, because I CAN)

Dear Yuuri,

The fact that you continue to outdo yourself on my Christmas/birthday present truly frustrates me. How am I supposed to measure up?

The “snow globe” as you call it, is incredible. I can’t believe you managed to make a figurine of me to put inside of it, in full skating position! I love the little details (but my nose is NOT that long.)

I also think the song is breathtaking. Not quite sure I’m going to be “Making History” just yet, but one can dream.

I miss you,

Victor Nikiforov.

…

January is, miserably, even colder than December.

“Stop complaining,” Phichit scolds him once they meet up with the others, and he keeps complaining, “In Thailand we can reach minus forty degrees during a harsh winter.”

“...I’m not sure that’s true,” Yuuri cocks his head at the dubious information. He’s pretty sure Thailand has a tropical climate. “But I’ll take your word for it.”

Leo sighs, “Phichit, stop confusing the boy.”

“E-excuse me? I’m your age!”

“Leo’s finally accepted we’re the parents in our trio,” Phichit announces gleefully, to Yuuko’s delight, who lets out a snort. “It’s beautiful.”

“Whatever,” Yuuri pouts, hunching his shoulders.

“He’s already the perfect teenage child,” the other Hufflepuff sighs dreamily.

Classes start picking up with the new trimestre, and it really helps having Victor around to help again, his soft, slow voice reading out loud from the old textbooks, shaking him slightly when he mumbles, half- asleep. In Transfiguration, they start turning pets into goblets, which honestly just distresses Yuuri more than anything else. He can’t bear having to transform Kuro into a cup.

The months flly away almost like they’re not even there, in a flurry of new Herbology lessons, practice with Minako (in which he’s finally using music to practice), studying, and trying to get Victor and Phichit to hang out, without pushing but persistent.

The first time he arranges for them to meet, it’s at the ice rink before everyone else arrives, to give Victor some familiar ground to stand on, in order to make him relax. The Slytherin is wearing his athletic clothes, all black as they always are, and stiffens up when he sees them both arrive, bundled up with their black-and-yellow scarves.

“Hey, Victor!” Yuuri calls out, waving happily. He beams at him, pointing at Phichit, walking by his side. “I brought some company!”

“Yeah…” Victor answers back, slowly gliding to a stop next to the barrier separating the ice from them. He looks flushed, cheeks red, his hair ruffled with the winter wind, light grey strands moving in front of his face. Yuuri hasn’t really noticed before, but Victor’s hair is growing longer, almost reaching past his chin now. He thinks, absently, that it suits him. “Um. Hello.”

Phichit cocks his head at Victor’s mumbled greeting, his dark eyes glinting, and asks, “I don’t mean to be rude, Nikiforov, but is it true that you stole Mila’s sordy romance novels? Because she swears you did, and I don’t wanna point any fingers, but there exists so much evidence pointing towards you, I’m just sayin’ -”

“I didn’t!” Victor flushes indignantly, glancing at Yuuri as if he’s embarrassed, “I swear I didn’t! Mila is a filthy liar!”

“Aww, there’s no need to be embarrassed, sweetie,” Phichit continues sweetly, looping his arms around Yuuri’s, “I was just asking to borrow them.” He leans in closer, “I’m a big fan of the plot, you see.”

The Slytherin blinks at him, befuddlement painting his features, “You...want to read them?”

Yuuri sighs, punching him lightly on the shoulder, worried that he’s shocked Victor too much, even though it’s barely standard Phichit behaviour, “Don’t worry about him, Victor. He jokes around a lot.” He hesitates, but carries on, “I told him maybe you could demonstrate some skating? If you want, of course!”

“I looked some moves up on Google,” Phichit says proudly, primping, “I even know what a Saltcow is.”

“ Salchow , Phichit, Salchow .”

After a few seconds of staring at the both of them, uncertain, biting his lip, Victor accepts to show them a double loop, wringing his hands together.

“It still sucks,” he warns Yuuri as he moves closer to him, his hands on the railing, before he starts sliding towards the centre of the rink, “Don’t expect any miracles.”

“I think you skate beautifully,” he tells him, truthfully, taking advantage of the small step near the short fence separating him to get on his tiptoes and ruffle Victor’s hair, giggling at his startled, wide-eyed, expression. “I don’t care if it’s not perfect.”

As Victor skates smoothly, his legs flexing and relaxing when he lifts his feet from the ice, keeping his centre of gravity slightly lower than usual, Yuuri does something he’s never done before. Instead of watching Victor, enraptured, following his every move with breathless captivation in his heart, tensing before a jump and cheering when he lands it, thrilled, he turns to look at Phichit.

No one in this world, muggle or magical, can deny Victor’s talent, or the attraction in every one of his movements, holding one’s attention hostage and refusing to give it back. Yuuri’s mostly focused on him when he’s at the ice rink, this one beacon of pure art that flies off the surface, spinning in the air with a stunning tranquility, steady and yet improvised at the same time, but he does notice the others. Feltsman, despite his neverending criticism, is clearly taken with Victor, both as a protégé and as his skater. Whenever the Slytherin drops into flawless position for a low spin, the Professor’s lip press together, as his eyes burn with intensity. Minako, too, observes his performances with an interested curl of her lips and reluctant approval in her posture.

And that’s nothing of what the other skaters, all of them students, think of Victor. Some are jealous, true, but most of them believe he’s brilliant, amazing, wonderful, one-in-a-million, and try their hardest to reach a level near him.

So it’s incredibly satisfying to see Phichit, who’s never attended skating practice before, who always rolls his eyes at Yuuri’s exultant praise of Victor’s abilities, stare at the boy as he skates, his eyes wide, his mouth dropped open.

See? , Yuuri thinks triumphantly, See?

Yuuri, more than anything, wants Victor to come off the ice after this, and meet Phichit feeling confident, powerful, and happy. He wants Phichit to respect him but not idolize him, as others are wont to do. If it’s possible, he would like for all of them to have great fun and get a cup of hot chocolate from the kitchens.

It doesn’t go quite like that. Phichit is too much, at first, vibrant and excited, while Victor gives too little of himself, hunched and refusing to interact in the conversation, sitting close to Yuuri the whole time they hang out, his hands curled into fists on his lap as they all rest their backs against one of the outside walls of the castle.

The second time, Phichit brings his phone, which he only refrained from doing because Yuuri explicitly told him not to. To his surprise, Victor, not unlike Guang-Hong, lights up when he sees the device, curious, asking pointed questions and nodding seriously at the simple answers Phichit’s able to give.

Victor goes from rigidly standing next to Yuuri at first, his green-and-silver tie fastened so tight it must be choking him, to sprawling on the ground with Phichit, their legs tangled together, taking ridiculous selfies and whining “Nooooo, you have to delete that one!”, completely ignoring Yuuri’s pitiful commentary about them, in approximately two weeks.

He thinks, almost sadly that no one can resist Phichit’s unfailing drive to make friends. Well, he could never keep Victor to himself forever, however attractive that may sound in theory.

Making Victor and Phichit kind-of-friends isn’t the end of his problems, though, even though it would be nice.

It’s around March when people start asking about his “extra study time”, although Yuuri’s surprised nobody said anything earlier, given how much time he’s spending in Minako’s classes.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Yuuko wonders one day after they’ve gotten back from their History of Magic lesson, her books held against her chest, an unruly strand of dark hair falling in front of her eyes. “How come you’re always studying?”

“Um?!” Yuuri panics, scratching the back of his neck absently and desperately trying to think of an excuse that doesn’t involve tutus, Minako and her newspapers from hell, “I like to be prepared. I’m a very prepared guy. Preparation, thy name is Yuuri.”

She doesn’t look convinced.

Phichit’s the next one, only a few weeks after that.

“Hey, where did you go yesterday afternoon?” he asks as he plops down onto his bed, letting out a soft, contented sigh and wiggling his feet.

“Um, the Library,” Yuuri answers, not looking up from his notebook, where he’s writing down the recent colour charts for Transfiguration.

“But I was at the Library yesterday,” Phichit frowns, and that makes Yuuri freeze, snapping his head towards him, “I didn’t see you anywhere.”

“...Hahaha, you might need glasses,” he laughs awkwardly, biting his lip, “Ah! I have to go! I need to help Leo with his! Guang-Hong!”

Whatever works.

But no matter what he does, he can’t escape Victor Nikiforov, genius extraordinaire. Surely, Yuuri thinks, feeling worry gnaw on his consciousness, surely Vicor will figure it out in the end, with his incredible mind, with the way he seems to analyze situations before they even show a sign of occurring. It’s quite impressive, actually.

“I know what you’re doing behind my back,” Victor announces one day, right at the moment Yuuri sits down on the Library chair, and it simply makes the ball of helplessness tighten in his stomach.

This is it. He’s been discovered. Now Victor will get mad at him, because he lied about the studying, even though he ’s been completely honest with him about his problems, and they’ll be fighting again -

“You’re cheating on me with another study partner.”

Yuuri blinks, “I’m sorry?”

“You’re always ‘studying’,” Victor emphasizes the air quotes, furrowing his brow in anger, “But I’m never allowed to go with you. After considering it for weeks and weeks, I’ve realized the obvious: you’ve found a new Ravenclaw in your life.”

“...what.”

Yuuri thinks, bewildered, that maybe hanging around Phichit has infected him with his irreparable dramatism.

“It’s that Lee boy, isn’t it?” the Slytherin leans forward, inching closer to him, accusation in his blue eyes, “I knew you liked him, and those smart ones always study with more than one copy of notes -”

“Victor,” Yuuri says, very slowly, controlling the urge to burst into giggles, “I’m not ‘cheating on you’ with Lee Seung-Gil. I’m actually studying on my own,” he lies, suppressing the pang of guilt it stirs up inside of him. He smiles at him, way too fond but not truly knowing what to do about it, “You’re my favourite study partner, idiot.”

“Oh,” Victor’s cheeks flush red, his gaze dropping to their textbooks and flipping his hair loftily, “Well, yes, um, I was only testing you. I knew that all along! Not even a Ravenclaw can surpass my intellectual abilities!”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, too amused to call him out on it.

But when spring break comes, and Minako reminds him to buy a better brand of flats than the ones he usually takes with him to class, he realizes that ballet has become one of the bigger parts of his life recently, almost sneaking up on him without him noticing.

He goes to class, he hangs out with his friends, he attends ballet practice. Yuuri has an insane amount of French words memorized, for all his lack of knowledge about the language itself, he can basically manage all five positions in his sleep (has done it, once, during Christmas break, only to wake up to Mari’s screech when she found him trying to pirouette at 3 am), and actively enjoys watching ballet.

He’s even, to his personal pride, asked his parents to take him to see a ballet in the theatre, sometime soon. The thought of seeing actual adults work their blood and sweat off to perform what he can barely handle at a basic level amazes him, with such intensity that he can’t help longing to see it.

So...maybe it’s time to tell someone other than Leo about it.

(Minami, for his part, has already made enough ‘Yuuri, the Odette in your life’ stickers to last a lifetime, despite his weak protests.)

…

April that year is marked irrevocably by the First Years.

The younger Hufflepuffs are all freaking about exams, despite the fact that they have two whole months to study for them, moving around the Common Room in an ordered line and starting training routines to “exercise the mind”, which mostly consist on them jumping around one by one, yelling out “I CAN DO THIS!”.

“I introduced them to Seung-Gil,” Phichit explains helpfully, when he sees Yuuri staring at them in complete befuddlement, clutching at his books protectively as if to protect them from the tribal atmosphere in the room. “He’s a great senior, isn’t he?”

“Delightful,” Yuuri murmurs weakly.

Guang-Hong, for his part, arrives one afternoon, blasts open the door to Yuuri and Phichit’s room with magic, and stands there triumphant, hands on his hips.

“I did it!” he cheers, beaming with pride.

Phichit glances at the door, squeaking as it sways lightly, only held by the wall in on the corners of the door frame, stunned, “You certainly did.”

“I got Leo to go on a d- I mean, I got Leo to do something with me outside of studying!” he gushes, running until he sits down next to the older boy, ignoring Yuuri’s jaw dropping to the ground. He liked that door . “It’s still really not that awesome, but I totally told him I can’t fly and convinced him to teach me!” He looks at Phichit with hopeful eyes, “That was clever, right?”

“...Guang-Hong,” Phichit says slowly, “You are aware that you do hang out with Leo regularly right? I literally saw you two playing Exploding Snap and laughing yesterday. What are you on about? And, anyway,” he raises an eyebrow, “isn’t helping you with Flying basically the same as him helping you with other subjects?”

The gleeful expression on Guang-Hong’s face drops, horror taking place, “I didn’t think of that,” he whispers.

Yuuri swallows, finally able to overcome the shock of his poor, innocent door being treated in this way, abused right in front of him. “Maybe you could tell him to go flying together, instead of having lessons?”

The boy lights up again, grinning widely, and runs until he crashes against Yuuri, hugging him enthusiastically, “Great idea! That way he’ll hold my wa- That way we can bond together! Like brothers! Brothers from another mother! Yes! That is what I mean.”

Guang-Hong leaves as suddenly as he comes, leaving only confusion and a barren door in his wake.

“I never know what’s going up with him,” Phichit admits thoughtfully, “But I have to acknowledge his dedication.”

“The door doesn’t deserve this,” Yuuri mumbles, lifting himself off the mattress and getting ready to work on fixing it, hoping he won’t accidentally Transfigure something into a door. Once he turned his neighbour’s petunias into cockroaches and oooohhhhh boy.

Of course, by far the most notable of the First Years is Yuri Plisetsky.

Quickly after spring break, Victor finally breaks down and agrees to help Yuri with his step sequence if he’ll stop bothering him about the quads, and the younger Slytherin agrees, although not without a fair amount of sneering and smugness. Yuri stops following them around as much, finally ceasing in his constant vigilance yet still maintaining a suspicious air of intrigue (which is terribly ruined when Yuuri finds him shouting at crows about the ozone layer, or trying to tell the Hogwarts ghosts crappy Halloween puns without success. No one can look cool after that.), and that means that, suddenly, Yuuri doesn’t see him that much.

It’s weird, because he kind of misses him.

Sure, Yuri can be obnoxious sometimes, always fluttering around with his ridiculously angelic appearance, wearing his beautiful tiger shirt under his robes so as to avoid expulsion (Professor Baranovskaya exercised her right to bear arms), but he’s also sweet, without meaning to. He remembers stuff Yuuri’s mentioned, like small notes or reminders to himself about things he’s got to do, and accidentally recalls them while they’re talking, not realizing he’s just showed he pays attention to what Yuuri says until seconds after his mistake, going red in the face and stomping out of there before the Hufflepuff can tell him it’s adorable.

Once Yuri’s not there, making fun of everything and everyone, his biting comments at the tip of his tongue at any time of the day, Yuuri starts to wonder what he’d say about things, imagining the silly names he gives things, like the way he calls “Quidditch” “brain-damaged teenagers trying to outplay Troy Bolton”, whoever that is, or his habit for pretending the gibberish he sprouts sometimes it’s actually just Russian.

(It isn’t; Yuuri’s checked with Victor multiple times.)

After a while, Yuuri begins to greet Yuri in the hallways, going up to say hello while they’re having their meals in the Great Hall, and giving him his customized cupcakes at ice skating practice (they’re getting much better recently, after he’s spent countless hours in the kitchens with his new cookbook). He makes sure to ask him about his subjects, offering his abilities if he ever struggles with anything.

“Look, Katsuki,” Yuri tells him, rolling his eyes, “You spent about 99% of your time drooling on Nikiforov’s robes in the Library. I think I’ve got it covered, thanks.”

“He’ll call you soon!” Mila adds happily, before he forcibly drags her away, cursing under his breath.

“I won’t, jackass!”

“He actually loves you! He’s got five folders in his laptop called “Yuuri Katsuki Appreciation”, it’s so cute!”

“ Mila, I will have you executed .”

“Young people these days,” Phichit mutters derisively, when he tells him about it, “Can’t respect their elders.”

“I just want to show him my love,” Yuuri whines, lying down on his bed, resting his head on Phichit’s lap and closing his eyes at the feel of his friend’s hands in his hairs, massaging his scalp lightly. “Why are children so complicated?”

“There, there,” Phichit tuts, patting him gently. “We’ve all been there.”

…

Exams and his end-of-the-year choreography with Minako all get clamped up together the last month of school, drowning Yuuri in an overwhelming mountain of schoolwork, sore limbs and the excruciating throes of listening to Phichit imitate Godzilla at ungodly hours of the morning.

“It’s a classic , Yuuri!” his friend defends himself, crossing his arms over his chest,as if he hadn’t seen the Muggle Move two weeks ago, “There’s no specific time for classics!”

Yuuri narrows his eyes, feeling his body weigh him down with exhaustion, and tells him, voice completely calm, “I will take away your phone data, Phichit Chulanont, don’t you think I won’t.”

A horrified screech escapes him, “ You wouldn’t .”

“Try me.”

“Not the data ! Anything but the data ! Have my wife and children instead!”

“I can’t believe you would sell us out like this, dad.”

Victor helps enormously with exams, going as far as to aid Yuuri in making his muggle flashcards (which clash with his class’s magical notes book, with reappearing ink), staring at him in fascination when Yuuri messes up and erases all his mistakes away, his tongue sticking out as he works.

“I must admit, I’ve never properly watched ‘pens’ before,” the Slytherin tells him, “They’re truly innovative.”

“Quills are the worst,” Yuuri groans, throwing himself on the table and surrendering to his instinct to rest for a few blessed minutes, “I am literally going to sue the Minister of Magic the second I finish my seventh year. Just. No more quills .”

“You have to concede that they are much more fashionable, though,” Victor raises an eyebrow, “The aesthetic is nicer.”

“ Your aesthetic is nicer,” Yuuri grumbles back, too exhausted to think about a proper repy, and frowns in confusion when his friend stares at him, ears red.

And yet, it’s not enough, because Victor can’t help with the ballet, which eats at his mind for days on end. Does he know the music properly? Can he jump just right not to fall on his ass during a pirouette? Is his foot aligned correctly while practicing his tendu? Is he smiling, or looking like he’s being tortured? He looks ridiculous doing that, doesn’t he?

Leo tries his best, like the sweetheart he is, reassuring him, but he doesn’t know the first thing about ballet, so despite his lovely encouraging comments, Yuuri truly doesn’t feel prepared at all. It’s almost like he’s dancing on quicksand instead of the familiar feel of the cold wooden floors beneath his feet, focusing on tripping him up and sucking him in, merciless in its impartiality.

Somehow, all the good things he’s come to appreciate from ballet, the courage and confidence it gives him, to wear slightly more fitting clothes now that he’s used to them, to focus on how his body is at any given time, to know just exactly which parts of him are tense or relaxed...they all disappear.

He just… He can’t perform .

Yuuri could follow Minako’s lead for hours in the studio, spinning around until his muscles ache for any type of rest, legs shaking and arms rebelling against his instructor’s harsh commands. He can keep going until he drops, until he can barely stand, his joints screaming out in pain.

But Yuuri… Yuuri can’t put up a front. He can’t face the danger in being tested by Minako, having to prove his worth in a few shorts minutes. What if… what if she doesn’t think he’s up to it? What if he forgets his choreography the second he’s looking into her eyes?

He’s had this problem before at elementary school, when it was time for P.E. examinations once every three months. He’d get himself ready months in advance for every possible test, desperately trying not to fail, only too conscious of how unacceptable his body was, and then he would just … freeze.

Yuuri would clumsily move, dizzy and disorientated, his limbs turning into jelly, his mind swirling in an unending chain of negative thoughts: you’re doing it wrong, you’re doing it wrong, they’re watching you doing it wrong. Yuuri, you’re going to fail again. Just like you always do .

Sometimes he just can’t figure out why it’s so incredibly difficult for him to do the same thing he does every day in class, but he thinks it’s because, when he hears the word “test”, “exam”, “grade”, suddenly he’s not simply having fun and enjoying himself. Out of the blue, shooting him in the chest, he’s being evaluated .

Yuuri wonders, biting his lip, if he thinks the results of his exams represent his worth as Yuuri , as a person.

…

“Yuuri, you’ve got skates, right?” Minako asks him one day, before he gets changed in a discreet changing room left of the convenient studio in the seventh floor.

“Um, yeah?” he mumbles, looking up to her in question, “What for?”

“I think it’s time you went figure skating for the first time,” she says casually, as if it isn’t the biggest bombshell ever, oh my god, Minako. “What do you think?”

“I-I’ve never even been on the rink before,” Yuuri stutters, feeling his heart rate pick up. Is she serious? Are they really doing this? “I’ll probably just fall on my butt.”

“Yes, well, I’m not a figure skating coach,” Minako raises an eyebrow, “So I ’m not going to be in charge of saving you from frostbite once you can’t get up. I thought we could find a much more capable person to help you, actually.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen in horror, “Not Feltsman,” he begs.

“ Jesus , no,” she shudders at the thought of it, “I’ve seen enough of him yelling at that poor Plisetsky boy to know you need a much different kind of training.” She sets her eyes on him, focused and dark, digging into his mind, “I was thinking about Victor.”

For a few seconds, her words don’t quite sink in, and he just stands there, blinking stupidly, before echoing, “Victor?”

“Tall, grey-haired, thinks he’s smart?” Minako teases, smirking, “I thought you two were well acquainted. We should just ask him to help you out; you’ll fare better than trying to endure Yakov’s lessons. C’mon, I’m sure he’ll be flattered.”

Yuuri stares at the ground, biting his lip.

“...Yuuri?”

“I haven’t...exactly told him that I want to figure skate,” he blurts out, cheeks red, “Or that I do ballet. I mean. It just hasn’t come up.”

“Figure skating,” Minako repeats, “didn’t come up while you were talking to Victor Nikiforov.”

“I maybe, um, didn’t mention it.”

“I see,” she purses her lips, frowning, “Are you ashamed to be a ballet dancer, Yuuri? Because I can assure you many male ballet dancers are some of the best athletes in the world, and just because they’re men doesn’t mean -”

“No!” he cuts her off, swallowing hard, “It’s just… Victor is so much better than me, you know? I wanted to have something good to show him before telling him. Not awful pirouettes and a 100º turn-out. I just…” he gestures at himself, helpless, unable to express what he means, “I don’t know.”

“You wanted to impress him,” Minako says, slowly, her eyes lighting up with something suspiciously knowing. She thinks for a while, before announcing, “Well, I’m calling bullshit.”

“ What? ”

“Nikiforov has had many years of experience ahead of you,” she tells him, starting to gather up her regular clothes. “You’re never going to get on his level without a hell of a long time, and I’m pretty sure you’re not going to actually like what you’re doing until you can actually talk about it. Get your skates and meet me at the rink in ten minutes, I’ll charm it so no one can see you.”

And then she’s gone, disappearing in a flurry of dark cloaks and her gym bag, the door shutting behind her.

“...What just happened?” Yuuri murmurs, feeling lost.

…

When Minako reaches the ice rink, after exactly ten minutes, Victor is walking behind her, clad in his Slytherin uniform, his hair blowing in the calm summer breeze, and Yuuri feels like time stops.

“Hey, Katsuki,” his instructor says, completely unaffected by Victor’s incredulous gaze on Yuuri, his blue eyes wide as he stares at him, “I brought your little snake boy so you two could, you know, break the ice .”

She cackles at the pun, patting him heartily on the shoulder and making him stagger, his heart still beating like mad. Minako ruffles his hair gently, and says, leaning in close to his hear so she can whisper, “I’ll be out for a few minutes. Talk to your friend, Yuuri.”

The first thing Victor says once the Headmistress is gone, leaving them both alone together and awkwardly Not Talking, is, “I can’t believe you lied to me.”

Yuuri freezes up, swallowing hard, “I didn’t - I just wasn’t sure - I’m sorry, I really messed up -”

“Do you know how worried I was about your exams?” Victor carries on, walking towards him with a fond expression on his face, the first signs of a smile showing up on his lips, “You were studying all day , I was convinced you were doing horribly on all your subjects! The effect that can have on a man!”

He stares at him, “... What?”

“And I’m so offended you chose that old woman over me!” the Slytherin whines, stopping just shy of brushing Yuuri’s arms with his own, so close to him that he can feel his warmth, “I would be the best teacher ever! I will teach you everything, don’t worry about a thing.”

Victor’s full on grinning now, his eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, and he whispers, his voice dyed with amazement, “You want to figure skate, Yuuri. You want to skate.”

Yuuri looks up at him, not truly knowing what he’s supposed to do, what Victor really means , and asks, hesitant, “Is...is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay ,” Victor breathes, stepping even closer, radiating heat, “Get your skates on, come on. I’m going to teach you how the world stops right before you land a quad.”

“You’re not supposed to practice quads yet,” Yuuri manages to choke out, not quite believing that Victor isn’t mad, is actually excited , “Feltsman said you could get hurt.”

“Don’t worry,” the Slytherin promises, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder and cocking his head, no sign of bad intentions in his gaze. “I’ll keep you safe on the ice.”

…

“I’m going to die,” Yuuri whimpers, staring at the entrance to the rink, “Victor, I don’t want to die .”

“For the thousandth time,” Victor crows at him, rolling his eyes, “I’m not going to let you get killed! I’ve grown quite attached, you know.”

“I can’t do this,” he’s still standing on his skates outside the ice, focusing all his energy into avoiding falling to the ground and cutting himself with the blade. His knees are quivering. “I was wrong, I should never figure skate, the ground looks much nicer.”

“Come ooon ,” his friend, who’s already started skating lazy circles around him, looking completely at ease, glides until he’s in front of him again, stopping his feet from slipping with a careful cut across the ice, balancing his weight. He holds out his hand, “I’ll help!”

Yuuri hesitates, staring at long, pale, nimble fingers, remarkably like an aristocrat’s.

he boy stares at him as if he’s from another planet, “I’m Victor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri stares back, uncomprehending, “Yeah, you have a cool name.”

“No, I mean ,” Victor purses his lips, frowning in confusion, glancing to check if their Professor’s looking at them, “I’m like, Victor Nikiforov .”

“Is this a wizard thing?” Yuuri mumbles, cheeks flushed, gaze falling to his feet, “I’m sorry, I’m a muggleborn.”

“ Oh ,” his partner makes a small noise of understanding, which means yeah, it’s probably a wizard thing. “Oh, sorry. I just.” Victor hesitates, looking at Yuuri strangely, “I’ll take notes,” he says, some seconds later. “Maybe we can...compare them, later?”

…

“I’m sorry  I didn’t get you a present.”

“Are you kidding?” Yuuri mumbles, almost falling asleep. He always gets tired during their lessons, even though he’s ridiculously excited to see Victor every time, “Our studying sessions are already a gift.”

“Oh,” says Victor, blushing pink.

Yuuri realizes what he’s said, and jumps, cheeks flushing, “I m-mean, you help me a lot! Potions is really hard!”

“Okay, Yuuri,” Victor smiles at him. After a few seconds, he adds, quietly, “I like studying with you, too.”

…

“I never say the right thing. Everyone thinks I’m so charismatic and smart because I’m good at magic that they’re just so disappointed when I say something dumb. And it just. I get annoyed.”

…

Yuuri thinks, it’s time for me to be brave, too .

He takes Victor’s hand, feeling his fingers wrap around his without hesitation, warm and steadfast, gently pulling him close with the practiced ease of someone skilled. Carefully, slowly, Yuuri steps onto the ice, yelping when he almost falls at the first time balancing on his skates, only to blush as he’s caught by Victor, who laughs and tells him, “Didn’t I promise you I’d protect you, dummy?”

“Shut up, Victor,” he grumbles, trying to hide his relief at not breaking his skull on the ice. Minako’s threats have taken effect. “If I die here, I swear to God I’m leaving everything to Phichit.”

“No more talking,” Victor says firmly, “Now, we skate.”

Victor’s incredibly patient with him, as he helps him navigate his way through the rink. They start off slow, tentative movements with his legs as he figures out how to best position himself not to fall. Yuuri ends up hanging on for dear life to Victor’s forearm for the better part of an hour, their sides pressed together, but he doesn’t seem to mind too much, thank god. The Slytherin guides him through most of the process, talking in a reassuring tone, giggling whenever Yuuri lets out a particularly loud squeak and patting him on the head proudly from time to time.

Eventually, they get to a point where Yuuri tries his luck at clumsily skating in circles, holding Victor’s hand only, their fingers clasped together. It’s so embarrassing, he’s probably sweating like mad, and he tries to pull it away a few times, but Victor stubbornly keeps his grip on him, announcing that, “I’m not ready to let you go just yet, Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Okay,” Yuuri whispers, his throat sore from shouting so much, panicked, “That’s...I’m fine with that.”

He wonders why his heart contracts in his chest at Victor’s words, though. Wonders why his breath disappears from his lung, as if extricated by an invisible force that runs all over his skin, making him shiver.

“Wanna watch me jump from here?” Victor calls to him, snapping him out of his reverie, and he decides not to wonder. Maybe he can just enjoy himself, for once.

…

Minako doesn’t end up making him take the test the day she’d planned. Instead, once he finishes practicing it a few days earlier before he’s supposed to be evaluated, she says, “Okay, that’s enough, I already took notes,” and stuns him into silence.

“Most ballet dancers get terrible jitters,” Minako shrugs at his wide-eyed surprise, still standing on the ballet studio, sweating slightly, “I had a feeling you might be one of them, so I just graded you without you knowing.”

She smiles, squeezing his shoulder, “You did well, sweatpants boy.”

…

The ride back home gets a little more bittersweet, each time Yuuri leaves Hogwarts. It honestly has begun to feel like home, after these two years; the smell of fresh bread rolls in the morning, the house elves’ affectionate nagging, the Professors’ obsession with proper procedure, and the Quidditch matches he and Phichit get dragged to, once Leo finally gets a starter position in the Gryffindor team.

Yuuri pulls his bag behind him as he walks towards the middle of the train, searching for the compartment with his friends in it. He’s agreed to meet Mari back at the station once the Hogwart Express reaches King’s Cross, so he’s spending the ride with everyone else, already identifying the pangs of nostalgia at the thought of not seeing them every day for the whole summer.

He’s lost in his thoughts, letting out soft sighs, so oblivious to his surroundings that he jumps when he feels his body collide against someone.

“Oh, sorry!” Yuuri startles, looking up, just before he brightens up again. “Victor!”

“Hi,” the Slytherin says nervously, rubbing the spot on his calf where Yuuri accidentally hit him with his suicase, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yuuri snorts, “You’re such a comedian.” He’s about to send Victor off with a goodbye (and maybe a hug? Would that be weird? It wouldn’t, right?), like he always does once they’re on this train, when he suddenly thinks that he’s assumed from the start that Victor goes off to sit with his friends on the train.

But he’s already confessed to not getting on well with others.

He hesitates, but asks, hoping desperately he won’t be rejected, “Would you like to come sit with me and the rest of the guys? We have space for one more, and Phichit likes his last selfie of the school year to be epic.”

Victor’s eyes are wide open, the blue in them glittering, his lips slightly parted as if so say something. He ducks his head without warning, the tips of his ears red, and mumbles, “Y-yes, I’d love that. If it’s really okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” Yuuri repeats Victor’s words back to him, from that day at the ice rink, and grabs his hand without letting himself think about it, “Let’s go.”

He’s not completely sure, but he’s willing to bet that, when he turns around, heading for the other side of the train in search of the others, Victor is smiling.

…

Everyone’s fallen asleep inside the compartment, the comfortable lull of the train making its way steadily across the country gently nudging him into quiet dreams, but Victor’s still awake.

All of them were exhausted after playing around for a few hours, taking dumb selfies, retelling the best stories of the year fondly, and singing crappy muggle pop songs happily, listening to Phichit’s eyephone, or whatever it’s called. It took them less than thirty minutes to start yawning and settling against any comfortable surface to “rest for a minute, ‘kay?” before they all dozed off.

Yuuri’s head is on his shoulder, his eyes closed, glasses crooked as his breathing moves his chest up and down, a small tendril of drool leaking from his mouth and onto his clothes. He’s supporting his entire weight against him, his arms unconsciously wrapping around his back a little, as if to hold on to him, steadying himself. His Hufflepuff tie is a mess, not even using a proper knot, which would make Victor’s mom start throwing silverware around in indignation. He’s wearing the bracelet Victor made him wrapped tight around his wrist, the edges slightly worn from use.

Victor… Victor thinks, with a tiny hiccup of his breathing, that he’s beautiful .

Chapter Text

“I hate you, I hate Nikiforov, I hate stupid Fish and Chips, and I hate skating! Fuck this, I’m going back to Russia! ”

“ Yuri, don’t swear! ”

“I’ll stop swearing when I’m dead, old man!”

Victor opens his eyes, sighing in desperation, and wishes, with all of the last strength he has in his body, that he could finally rest, for one day.

…

There is a distinct pattern that repeats itself every day at the Nikiforov Mansion, and it has been followed loyally ever since Victor was a kid.

Firstly, the alarm rings precisely at 7 am, regardless of whatever day of the year it is (Victor’s almost certain that it continues its duty even while he’s away at Hogwarts. His mother doesn’t take off the spell, that he knows of), waking him up from a peaceful slumber, its familiar shrill tone completely unbearable to listen to. He moans and lingers between Egyptian silk sheets, nuzzling into the soft pillow stuffed with Hungarian goose down below his cheek, for about ten minutes before he reluctantly crawls off the bed, still blinking sleepily and rubbing at his eyes.

After that, he clumsily makes his way downstairs, having put on his clothes on in a daze, and reaches the first floor so he can take his breakfast. Miranda, one of the maids, is usually the one to serve him, her smile kind as she ruffles his hair fondly.

If it happens to be summer, Victor can pretty much do whatever he wants from there on, which mostly consists in him running to the private ice rink, clutching his skates in one hand, and spend the entire morning skating around, trying for more quick circles around the rink but eventually tiring until he can only glide slowly from one side to another, breathing harshly and resting against the barriers, his cheeks painted pink from exertion and the tip of his nose freezing. Yakov shows up after a few hours, scolds him for starting without him, and refuses to let him continue on the ice before he stretches and rests his sore limbs.

The afternoon is passed in a flurry of piano lessons (his father insists on them), playing with Makkacchin on the living room floor, reading old historical novels and trying to escape boredom in whatever way possible.

He hates it. Grows tired of the unremarkable passing of days in his too-large house with too little people in it, walking up and down the sets of stairs while humming old pop songs under his breath, his dog trailing after him, and having nothing to do.

But ever since Yakov’s students have invaded the house, bringing with them loud voices, heavy footsteps and atrocious emo music to listen to without headphones, Victor’s kind of started to wish he could go back to the boring old days.

…

Yakov took Georgi as one of his students four years ago, when both him and Victor were dumb kids who stuck Russian flag stickers to their skates, proclaiming their pride for their country, but whined at every cursive lesson their tutors forced them through. Back then, there were many other kids being taught by Yakov, even outside the Nikiforov Mansion, but Victor didn’t really socialize with many of them (Otabek was scary), preferring to stay in his room. But his parents insisted that he try with Georgi, who was closer to his age.

Georgi at eight was exactly the same as Georgi as twelve, to be honest. Slightly shorter than Victor, impeccably dressed, and prone to stealing Victor’s mom mascara whenever he could.

“She’s gonna get mad,” Victor used to warn him, not too worried about it himself. His mom always puts spells on her stuff so she’s able to know who touched it. “And then Yakov will make you do only stretches for a week.”

Georgi huffed, rolling his eyes, and pushed him slightly to get him out of the way, entering his mom’s dressing room, “Whatever. You’re just jealous ‘cause it only looks good on me.”

“As if , you look like a purple raccoon!”

“I do not , take that back immediately, Nikiforov!”

“Purple raccoon,” Victor crowed, evading Georgi’s frustrated attempts at hitting him so he would stop, “Purple raccoon, purple raccoon, purple raccoon!”

If they had their wands back then, Victor thinks absently, watching as Georgi does his skates’ laces up with a pout on his face, they would have burnt the house down.

“Are you gonna sit around or are we gonna get on the ice?” the other boy asks him, rubbing his palms together to chase off the cold. His hair is perfectly done up, slightly slicked back. “I’m cold, Victor. And I’m tired of waiting for you to find your muse, or whatever it is you do.”

“I don’t find my muse ,” Victor flushes, looking around. Thank Merlin Yuri isn’t around to hear that, he’d milk it for all it was worth. “I just have better warm up routines than you do.”

Georgi sniffs, lifting his chin up, “Kay. Now, come on.”

He reaches out with his hand to Victor, lips pursed slightly, and Victor hesitates. He’s been trying to be nicer to Georgi ever since all that stuff went down last fall, following Yuuri’s advice as well as he can, carefully making his way around their arguments and disagreements to seem more approachable, to listen to what Georgi has to say, instead of dismissing him as being dramatic. Georgi always blows up when he teases him about stuff, but maybe that isn’t the best way to get him to talk to Victor.  Now, as he stares at his pale hand, his dark blue gloves shoved into the pocket of his loose yoga pants, he realizes that it’s maybe, actually, working.

“Thanks,” Victor tells him sincerely, as he takes his hand to pull himself up from the floor, shaking off his skate before he goes into the rink. “Want me to try and lift you up again?”

Georgi looks surprised for a moment. The last time they attempted to do any pairs skating was years ago, before Victor competed in a tiny local championship that blew up, bringing the whole magical and muggle figure skating community to his doorstep, announcing him a star while not paying an ounce of attention to Georgi, who also showed tried his luck in the tournament. It was after watching two hours of Muggle footage from one of the first Grand Prix in history, huddled up in their huge sweaters and staring at the strange device with wide eyes, and it ended up in a sprained wrist and two hour-long lectures on how lucky they were.

At first, Victor has the terrible fear that Georgi will get mad at him for even suggesting it. After all, he’s always obeyed Yakov’s directions completely, blindingly trusting the man, but he  grins, wicked and says, “Let’s do it.”

Thankfully, this time, Victor has the good sense to make Georgi weightless before he holds him up. It comes in handy to be a genius. (And it’s totally worth his mother’s lecture about underage magic).

…

Yuri Plisetsky has only been a part of Victor’s life for the last year, and boy, has it been a year.

Unlike Georgi, Yuri doesn’t come from one of the old, filthy rich Russian pureblood families that migrated to England a few decades ago, to escape the brunt of pureblood rejection after the last War. He doesn’t even arrive to the Nikiforov Mansion of his own choice, because he seeked it out as a way to expand his knowledge on skating.

No. Yakov’s told him the story many times by now, even though Yuri’s kept quiet about it ever since they met. The instructor was walking down Muggle London for an errand with a Men’s Singles expert when he passed the ice rink, and saw a ten year old boy dancing on the ice.

“He wasn’t actually dancing,” Yakov rolls his eyes at him whenever he retells it, “You love to romanticise things, Victor.”

Apparently, Yakov was charmed by the fluidity of his skating, by the way he seemed to fly off the ice. He always mentions that he could see the magic in the boy as he glided around the rink, the way his laces changed colours and his jumps set off literal sparks, the crunch of the blades landing on the crystalline surface resounding in the empty stadium. Yakov says, with a fond smile, that he immediately offered to be his coach.

Yuri responded by almost gnawing his leg off, badmouthing him in Russian while trying to hit him with his short arms and yelling as loud as he could that he was getting kidnapped, despite the fact that Yakov had made no move to touch him. They only managed to separate him after his grandfather came along, roused by the commotion of a small angry Russian child trying to attack a full-grown wizard with the power of his fists.

Eventually, after some long talks and Minako’s intervention, Yuri, a muggleborn wizard from a lower class family with no resources whatsoever, got a chance to train with Yakov Feltsman, one of the figure skating stars of the late sixties, and a personal invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Yuri meeting him was kind of anticlimatic.

Right up until their first encounter, Yakov wouldn’t stop singing his praises, exalting all his qualities and prancing around the family home muttering about “Got to make Lilia teach him some things”, so Victor was actually pretty excited.

Once he saw him, light-coloured eyes and delicate features, he couldn’t help but think that Yuri would most likely be one of those princely, sweet children who skated to lullabies and wore sparkly outfits while playing around the house happily.

“Hello, my name is Victor!” he greeted him cheerfully, holding out his hand and smiling.

Yuri Plisetsky took one look at him, wearing his finest suit for the occasion, glanced at himself, with some battered clothes and a scarf with threads falling off at the edges, and told him teeth gritted, “Get out of my way, Disney Princess, I was told you guys had food.”

Victor’s pretty sure that the only thing Yuri respects about him is his skating, even now. He’s always admired him openly from that standpoint, a sharp contrast to how crass and dismissive he is off the ice, swearing to Victor that he would catch up to him and steal the spotlight from him, establishing himself as the best skater in their generation. Victor has told him multiple times that “I believe in you, sweetie.”, trying to be as ridiculously fond as possible, because Yuri might be rude and terrible aggressive, but he’s still something out of a fairytale once he puts his skates on, and no one can fake that terrifying vulnerability as they trust their legs to stop their fall.

For now, though, and until Victor and Yuri can compete in the Junior Championships, they’re partners. Kind of. Mostly.

“I don’t fucking get this,” Yuri growls, resting his head on the back of Victor’s chair and scowling, “Why can’t you stop writing letters?”

“They’re for Yuuri,” Victor tells him cheerfully, snorting when it makes the younger boy moan, “I still don’t get why you refuse to acknowledge you like him. Everyone knows by now.”

“Lies and slander, Nikiforov,” Yuri mutters, his eyes dark, “There is not a hair on the head of that penguin-shaped ball of buttercream that I’d like to touch. I’m actually fucking embarrassed for him, to be honest. Did you know he tried to give me an embroidered pillowcase with your face on it?”

Victor flushes, looking down at the paper with a smile, “He’s, eh, very enthusiastic about his friends.”

“He said it was to guard me in my dreams, Nikiforov. I don’t want you anywhere near my dreams .”

“Why, huh?” he teases, elbowing him slightly as he moves around in his chair, “Got some secret? Come oooon , Yuriiii, tell meee.”

Yuri raises an eyebrow at him, narrowing his eyes and pulling his hood up until it casts a small shadow over his face, “You’re poison, weirdo. I’m not telling you anything, no matter how much you try. Go get your gossip elsewhere.”

Victor gasps, offended, clutching at his chest dramatically, “How dare you disrespect your elders? I’ve given up everything for you, I’ve always supported you, through the pain and through -”

“I’ll burn you to death, don’t fucking think I won’t.” he threatens Victor, falling down on the black beanbag Lilia bought for him.  It’s got small cat ears on either side of it. Victor thinks it’s adorable. Yuri loudly proclaims his hate for it each time he sees it but doesn’t hesitate before sitting down on it so nobody else can.

“You can’t do magic outside of school, kitten,” he reminds him, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking. “And my parents have marked this house so it has individual magical signatures, so there’s no way you can get away with it here, either.”

“Wizards are dumb,” Yuri scoffs, “I’d just take a lighter and to hell with it. Honestly, don’t you guys get tired of living in the nineteenth century?”

Victor pouts, “You’re so mean to me, Yuri! I was just writing a letter. Now I’m going to tell Yuuri that you’re bullying me.”

Yuri glares at him, “Yuuri won’t believe you, he’s told me he likes me. Like, twenty times.”

“Ah, ah, but he likes me more .” Victor grins, “Remember the pillowcase?”

In the end, he gets to him behave for the ten minutes it takes him to finish up his letter, and even lets him add a small paragraph of his own. Victor practices his newfound extreme kindness by not teasing him about writing to Yuuri, despite his insistence that he barely tolerates him.

…

Mila Babicheva is another story, of course.

She walked into the Nikiforov Mansion, saw the three of them sniping back and forth while arguing about who got to do pair spins first, smiled, performed a perfect double Salchow despite being barely nine, and was immediately admired.

Everybody knows Yuri is her favourite, even if he refuses to admit it.

…

“Yakov is sick,” Victor tells Yuri and Georgi, who are standing on the front porch with annoyed expressions drawn on their faces. They’ve been ringing the bell for the last half an hour, and he finally realized when the housekeeper, a really tall guy named Sparky who likes smiley faces stickers, informed him of the fact while he skated around happily. “You can all go home.”

“ Fuck that,” Yuri growls, stepping inside the Mansion and shoving Victor aside. He huffs, clutching his bag closer to his side and glaring at the two of them, “I don’t know about you lazy drama queens, but I’m gonna skate. Who cares if the old man is sick, anyway? We all know you skate on your own, like a traitor .”

Victor pouts, “I’m a cute , inspirational traitor, though, Yuri!” He glances back at Georgi, curious, “Where’s Mila? Did someone contact her?”

“You mean, like you should’ve contacted all of us?” Yuri raises an eyebrow, rolling his eyes, “How people say you’re a genius, I will never know. Don’t they know you?”

“I’m here, Vitya!” a high-pitched voice calls out cheerfully, and Victor turns around, startled, to see Mila behind him, twirling around the room with a smile on her face. “Your back door might need fixing, by the way.”

“Not again ,” Victor groans, rubbing at his temples. Even though he’s only a year older than the two kids, and Georgi is actually his age, he still feels like the responsible parent when all of them are over. “Mila, this is the third time.”

“Oooh, Yuri,” Mira cooes, completely ignoring him, “I love your new shoes, the leopard pattern is just to die for . Where did you get them from?”

“Nowhere,” Yuri snaps, cheeks flushed, before turning and starting to walk in the direction of the ice rink, muttering under his breath and stomping his way there.

Mila raises her arms in surrender, “What did I do now?”

“I bought them for him,” Victor tells her, beaming, “Aren’t they just gorgeous?”

Georgi sighs, long-suffering, “You’re all children. Out of my way, I’m stealing Lilia’s eye shadow.”

“Rest in peace, Popovich,” Yuri shouts from outside, “They will never find your body!”

By unspoken agreement, all of them (except Georgi; that guy’s suicidal and just wants an excuse to listen to My Chemical Romance when they’re not there to tease him about it) start walking towards the rink, Victor trudging along while trying not to think about what Yakov would say if he saw all of them skating without supervision. Probably something not suitable for children.

“Hey, Victor,” Mila says suddenly, startling him. Her eyes are intimidatingly blue. “I’m glad you’ve decided to loosen up a bit. Georgi and Yuri were totally angsting about you ignoring them to hang out in your lonely corner. It was quite pathetic.”

He bites his lower lip, looking down at his feet, “Yeah. I guess you are all pretty miserable without my dazzling presence, aren’t you?”

The redhead rolls her eyes and skips ahead, sticking her tongue out and running until she sets her hand on Yuri’s shoulder, pulling them close together in order to get him in an armhold. Yuri splutters, cursing at her in something between Russian and English, waving his arms around to push her away, face still red.

“Get off me, you wrench! I’ll stab you with my skates, don’t you think I won’t!”

“That’s adorable , baby!”

“No magic can save you from bloodloss!”

“Actually,” Georgi yells out, running down the stairs, his eyes surrounded by a disastrously huge black circle that somewhat resembles make-up, “There’s a Blood Replenishing Potion. My mom takes it, for some reason.”

“I’m going to shoot whoever invented that in the face.”

Maybe Yuuri is right, Victor thinks deliriously, choking down his laughter, maybe Slytherins do spend their day threatening each other.

…

After a while, Yuri gets tired of aggressively jumping on his battered skates, seething at all of them when the glance at him, and demands food.

“I don’t know where the food is,” Victor shrugs.

“Dude,” Yuri mutters, voice low, “You literally live in a magic mansion with servants. Can’t you ask for it?”

“Good point.”

Sparky, faithful as ever, orders them Muggle take-out, per Yuri’s enthusiastic request (Victor’s almost certain he’s never seen him as excited over anything except food), and they all sit around the enormous glass table with the Nikiforov family crest engraved on every corner, eating McDonald’s. There’s paper wrappers on all of the available surface, ketchup stains on the glass and oil from the chips dripping onto the carpet steadily.

“This is magic,” Yuri moans, munching around his nuggets with glee, “None of that Potions bullshit. Give me junk food any day.”

“It sure is...interesting,” Georgi says slowly, looking down at his own burger with something akin to puzzlement on his face, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“If my mother saw this,” Victor tells him, grinning from ear to ear, “I would be disowned.”

Mila throws a chip at him, giggling when it catches him in the nose, “Victory!”

He narrows his eyes at her, wrinkling his nose. It smells like grease, “You didn’t .”

The girl raises an eyebrow in invitation, leaning over the table, her eyes gleaming, “What if I did?”

Victor throws a packet of ketchup at her, only for her to duck the second it’s about to land on her dress It hits Georgi’s face instead, exploding upon impact and splattering gooey red liquid all over him, painting a beautiful scene that reminds Victor of Phichit’s favourite Muggle crime shows.

For a minute, there is complete silence. Even Mila is staring at Georgi, gobsmacked.

“You ruined my make-up, Victor,” Georgi says slowly, lifting his gaze until it meets Victor’s, who’s gawking at him, jaw touching the floor. He smiles without any trace of happiness, showing his teeth, “ You ruined my make-up .”

“Tell Yuuri I totally didn’t lovingly caress his bracelet before giving it to him,” he blurts out at Yuri, clutching at his hand desperately, before running away as fast as his legs can carry him.

Once Georgi’s satisfied with beating Victor into the ground, shouting obscenities at him without being discouraged by his feeble, “But Georgi, the children are listening!”, there’s not really much to do. Normally, Yakov makes them all practice more stretches, or Lilia comes by to help them with basic ballet moves, but none of  them really want to do those if they aren’t forced to, anyway.

Victor’s pretty sure Yuuri is the only person in the world who voluntarily practices ballet at home and enjoys it. He’s adorable like that.

Anyway, they’ve got three hours until everyone’s family comes to pick them all up and cart them back to their respective homes, and nothing to do in the meantime.

“We could…” Victor begins, “... call Yuuri?”

“Can we do something not related to Yuuri Katsuki?” Georgi mutters, crossing his  arms over his chest, “I feel like there’s no escape from him.”

Mila pats his arm sympathetically, “There, there, Victor.”

“We could walk Makkacchin?” he tries, trying not to pout at Georgi’s dismissal.

“I smell like cat,” Yuri grumbles, “He’ll just chase me around again.”

“Fine,” Victor huffs, rolling his eyes, “Have it your way. You three can decide what to do, if you don’t like my ideas.”

“Oh my god, Nikiforov,” the youngest Slytherin groans, his blond hair falling over his eyes. He blows it out the way with an annoyed huff, “Are you sure you’re older than me? Because you’re a complete fucking baby  -”

“Hide and seek!” Mila interrupts cheerfully, putting her hand on Yuri’s face and pushing him away from Victor, “We should play Hide and seek!”

“Hmmm,” Georgi muses, “That could be fun. As long as Victor doesn’t use any magical trackers on me, again .”

“That was one time, we were ten , can you stop bringing it up -”

“It hurt me, Victor! It hurt me deeply!”

“Fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight…” Mila starts, looking at them both pointedly before closing her eyes, “...forty-seven, forty-six…”

The three boys all dash upstairs, careful to be as noiseless as possible, elbowing each other the second one of them trips or steps particularly hard on the floor. Together, they reach the second corridor, breathless and panting, their hands resting on their knees.

“C’mon,” Victor whispers at them urgently, “I’ll take you to the reading room; she’ll never look there.”

“No, no,” Georgi insists, “We’ve gotta split up; that way not all of us will get caught.”

“I agree with raccoon boy,” Yuri nods at him, voice low, ignoring Georgi’s squawk of protest, “Let’s move before that witch wins this stupid kids’ game.”

“ You ’re a kid.”

“No, you ’re a kid, evil witch -”

“What -? That’s so immature of you -”

“I’m leaving,” Victor cuts them off, shushing them, “I think she’s finally stopped counting.”

Immediately, all of them scatter in three different directions, sprinting without any specific objective in mind. Really, Victor thinks annoyedly, they should’ve just listened to him. It’s his house, after all, what do they know about hiding spots?

Mila finds him first, “It was really too easy. We all know you have Yuuri’s letters in the reading room, Victor. Try to make it a little more difficult next time, will you?”

They get Georgi first, camping in the kitchens with the head chef, shoving cupcakes down his throat, and join him for a while. Victor can kind of admit he understands the calling of cupcakes.

“Victor probably wants Yuuri-themed cupcakes,” Mila snickers to Georgi, high-fiving him when he snorts, “Make them have the Hufflepuff colours and cute glasses.”

“Don’t we have a guy to find?” Victor mutters, his ears red.

After about twenty minutes of going up and down every floor of the Mansion, stopping to pet Makkacchin a few times (“He gets lonely, okay?” Victor says defensively, hugging the poodle to his chest), they find Yuri.

In the rink. Skating.

Victor isn’t even surprised.

...

It’s midway through July, and Victor’s parents are thinking of celebrating a summer banquet.

“It’d be a good idea,” his mom says, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans against one of the walls of the living room, her manicured fingernails tapping her forearm rhythmically, “We haven’t seen the family in a while.”

“We saw them at Christmas,” Victor points out, sinking into the sofa as much as he can, huffing. “Aunt Sofia said I still look too skinny.”

“You are too skinny, Vitya,” his father murmurs, Summoning his leather notebook and a quill to write the banquet preparations down. Victor’s almost certain he’s never seen him spend more than five minutes without his notebook.“No matter how much your mother and I try to feed you.”

His mom chuckles slightly, sitting down beside him with a knowing smile on her face, “My poor boy, he does too much exercise.”

“Yes, well, I’m a professional athlete,” Victor mutters, feeling his cheeks heat. “I have to train every day.”

“Oh, yes, that ice thing of yours,” his father cocks his head, “Don’t you think you’re bothering Yakov too much about it? The man has to get up at five to practice with you sometimes. He deserves his rest, you know.”

“It’s not…” an ice thing , Victor starts, indignant, but he stops, his gaze falling to the floor in a smooth, practiced motion. He knows, inside, that his parents simply don’t understand figure skating, that they’re not trying to be cruel when they’re so offhandedly dismissive about it. He knows, but it still makes him recoil. “I apologize. I’ll let him rest more, dad.”

Which means: I’ll be sneakier when I climb out the window so I don’t wake him up .

“Well, anyway,” his mother continues, crossing her legs one over another, “I’ll have to start preparing the guest list. And we should pick some theme, otherwise Anna won’t talk to me for another year. She’s honestly too picky about these things.”

“She’s a Nikiforov,” his father teases her, hiding his grin behind the notebook when his mother narrows her eyes at him. “It runs in the family.”

“That is a blatant lie , I’ll have you know -”

“Do you want to invite some guests, Victor?” he interrupts her, obviously looking for a way out, his expression pleading, “Anyone from that lovely school of yours?”

For moment, he almost automatically gives the same response as he’s always done: an unwavering negative. Victor usually comes out of his room for ten minutes during the parties his parents organize, just long enough to greet everyone politely, smile so much it leaves his cheeks aching, and charm all the old ladies in the room with his wandless magic tricks. After that, he stares at Georgi and Chris hanging out in the corner, wishing he was brave enough to talk to them, and then runs up the stairs so he can pet Makkacchin behind a locked door.

But it doesn’t have to be like that, this time.

“Yeah,” Victor murmurs, the corners of his lips curling upwards slightly, “If that’s okay, dad.”

“Absolutely,” his father assures him, standing up from his seat, “I must go to work now, you two. Don’t wait for me at dinner, the Minister will keep me there for hours, and I have a feeling it’s not going to be pretty. Have a good day.”

As he moves towards the exit, Summoning his briefcase, he briefly squeezes Victor’s shoulder fondly, and kisses his mother on the cheek, chaste. It’s a short kiss, he notices, a soft press of his lips against her skin, barely any contact between them, but it coaxes a reluctant smile from her after their funny spat, the creases in her brow relaxing. Meanwhile, his dad touches her hair just slightly, his fingers lingering as much as they can.

Somehow, it reminds Victor of Yuuri’s hug from last year, when they were in his room. Recalling that moment mostly makes Victor blush, because the image of his friend wrapped up in white sheets and wearing his oversized pajamas has been stuck in his mind ever since. His hand itched to smooth down his bedhead, there was pulsing ache in his muscles that kept pushing at him to lace their fingers together. And yet, as he watches this rare display of affection between his parents, he can’t help but think of how calm he felt, after that talk. Victor wanted to stay with him forever, even though he knew it was stupid, because Yuuri was safe . It almost didn’t matter, how much the topic they were discussing rankled him, with Yuuri’s big, dark eyes watching him.

He wonders… is that the way his parents feel, in moments like these? Comforted, understood? Wanted, without a doubt?

“Which friends do you want me to invite, Victor?” his mother inquires, startling him back to the real world. “I can allow you as many as five, but I’m afraid more would be inappropriate.”

“Oh, right,” Victor clears his throat, hoping he isn’t blushing as much as he thinks he is, “Well…”

…

Phichit is trying to record a ‘vine’, for some reason, and Yuuri’s nowhere to be seen.

“I just think we should have a record of our time together,” the Hufflepuff pouts when Victor asks him what a ‘vine’ has to do with anything. “It’s really cool!”

“But how does that even work ?” he furrows his brow, “Isn’t a ‘vine’ just a regular picture?”

“Not in the Muggle world,” Phichit explains, moving closer to him. He’s wearing an impeccable outfit, a white and blue jacket matched with dark blue trousers, all of it adorned by silver frills and touches of jewelry. It’s one thing to know that Phichit is part of the Chulanont family, one of the richest and noblest families in the Thai pureblood caste system,  and quite another to see a display of him showing that. “There, their pictures don’t move at all. Well, their GIFs do, but that’s it. They can’t print those.”

“What’s a ‘GIF’?” Victor asks, overwhelmed. He’s not quite sure he can keep up with Phichit, but he’s honestly interested.

“Victor,” his mother interrupts them, stepping closer to them with a small smile on her face. Her glass earrings are glittering. She sets a warm hand on his shoulder. “Your other friend just arrived.”

Phichit lets out an excited squeal, bouncing on his feet and clapping, “Yuuri is here!”

“He’s...a very interesting friend,” she murmurs, her smile widening.

“I-I’ll go get him,” Victor cuts her off, flushing. What has Yuuri done now? “Phichit, I’ll be right back! Don’t ask the party guests how they feel about memes!”

“It’s an important question!”

His mother tells him that Yuuri is waiting in the entrance hall, so Victor sets off, trying not to look too nervous, tugging at his tie anxiously and glancing around. There’s so many guests here, as usual, most of them people he’s never truly talked to, old family friends and relatives that he mostly recognizes by their few distinguishing features, like that one guy with the furry eyebrow that looks like a caterpillar. He narrowly escapes attempts from his overly-affectionate aunts to drag him into conversation, ducking to avoid them getting their hands on his cheeks, and finally exits the ballroom, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he closes his eyes, leaning against the closed door.

“Victor?” Yuuri’s voice asks, tentatively, “Um, hi.”

Victor opens his eyes, startled.

His friend is standing in the middle of the receiving room, fidgeting slightly, his hands tugging at the ends of his jacket every few seconds. Yuuri is… he’s wearing a suit . A beautiful, elegant suit, painted in a colour between ash and charcoal, that fits him like a glove, smooth fabric showing off the delicate contours of his figure. Yuuri’s hair is slicked back, just the smallest bit, to let his eyes be more visible, the warm chocolate brown hidden behind transparent glass shining under the yellowed lights hanging from the ceiling.

Yuuri…

He looks …

“Victor?” Yuuri repeats, more urgently this time, his cheeks a splotchy red, “I look ridiculous, right? Oh god, I had no idea what formal meant for pureblood wizards, please save me -”

“I’m changing your tie,” Victor blurts out, tearing his gaze away from his friend , his best friend , Yuuri Katsuki, his friend , “You can’t wear a Hufflepuff tie to this!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” Yuuri mutters, pouting, “I only have one tie! And I quite like it, too. It symbolizes friendship, just so you know.”

“Yeah, friendship,” Victor says weakly. “Anyway, I have thousands. I’ll just get you one. Wait for me here.”

“Can I go with you?” Yuuri takes a step forward, eyes pleading. His eyes are so big. They didn’t seem that big before. He’s still moving forward, just until he sets his arm on Victor’s forearm. It’s so warm , why is it so warm , Merlin’s pants, this is England. “I’m trying not to freak out, but there’s so many people , and -”

“Yuuri!” Phichit cheers, slamming the doors open. “Yuuri, my son!”

Victor moves away from Yuuri, fighting to keep his heartbeat under control. Yuuri and Phichit are already talking, the other boy almost deliriously happy to see his friend, throwing his arms around him and tickling him mercilessly, taking his phone out to get some more selfies. Yuuri is laughing, his blush even more apparent as Phichit riles him up with stupid jokes, winking as much as he can and deeming himself “The Mememaster”. Yuuri, in return, doubles over and chokes out, “What if I’m memeborn ?”.

He should join in. Victor should laugh and contribute to the conversation, the way he’s slowly learning to,  with their easy guidance, should snort at Phichit’s antics while exchanging knowing glances with Yuuri. But…

His heart is still pounding. He feels overwhelmed, suddenly, like there’s not enough air in the room, like his whole body is locking up, so still not even a hurricane could move him. Victor’s sweating , feeling claustrophobic in his suit, trying not to run away. He can’t think .

Yuuri’s wearing lip balm.

“I’ll be back with your tie,” he whispers, avoiding the other boys’ eyes once they turn to look at him, “Try to have fun without me, huh? I know it’s hard.”

“There’s nothing harder than a life without Victor,” Yuuri smiles at him, completely sincere, and fuck , he should have not used that word. “But I’ve got his Memejesty here to keep me company.”

“Hey, Yuuri, Yuuri,” he hears Phichit giggle while he’s walking away, legs trembling, “ I meme love with you .”

“Pffft,” Yuuri splutters, “Be careful, Leo and Seung-Gil might get jealous.”

Victor runs up the stairs as fast as he can, his whole chest exploding with warmth, jumping two steps at a time, and doesn’t stop sprinting until he’s inside his own bedroom with the door locked behind him, staring at his celeste-coloured walls blankly, flushed and uncertain of what exactly just happened.

This...these feelings are terrifying.

…

In the end, the three of them meet up with Chris, Yuri, Georgi and Mila, who are taking bets on who’s going to be the first rich old man to start crying about Victor’s “ beautiful performance and stunning natural talent ”, which is apparently tradition, going by Chris’s grin. Victor had never heard about this before.

“When you’re being a dick,” the boy informs him sweetly, with all of his charm, “Don’t expect others not to milk it for money.”

“I once won about ten galleons, I swear,” Georgi adds, bumping fists with Chris and letting out a victorious whoop.

“Um…” Yuuri glances at Victor, his smile cheeky. He’s wearing Victor’s dark violet tie, and it’s driving him mad.  “Can I bet, too? That guy with the purple tie has been looking at Victor like, ten times already, and we’ve just got here.”

“ Yuuri ,” Victor whines in betrayal, glad for the distraction. He still feels a little shaky, but hanging out with the others helps. “You too?”

“I don’t know why you all bother,” Yuri grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Mila’s going to win again , anyway.”

“And he’s probably not looking at Victor,” Phichit puts an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, grinning, “I’m pretty sure the entire party is staring at us because of Yuri.”

“Leopard print is a perfectly acceptable suit! My grandpa said so! You all stop fucking laughing ! I will stab you with this fucking fork, I swear to god!”

“Uh-oh,” Chris smirks, “Whatever shall we do with this tiny kitten?”

Georgi rolls his eyes, ruffling Yuri’s hair and ducking his head to avoid his furious swats, “You’re such a brat sometimes, Plisetsky.”

“Aww, guys, stop,” Yuuri wrinkles his nose, stepping closer to separate Yuri from everyone, “I think it looks lovely on him.”

“And that ,” Mila mutters, hiding her grin behind her cup of Coke, “is why Katsuki will always be a Hufflepuff.”

“I don’t care what you think about my perfectly valid, gorgeous suit, you disgusting penguin man! I hope you get eaten by wild badgers!”

…

Naturally, Mila wins, as if anyone was doubting that.

…

“So,” his father says, a few days after the banquet, once he’s finally stopped working ten hours a day for the weekend. He’s leaning against Victor’s bedroom door, his expression unbelievably amused. “I heard you invited some friends over for the party.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, shoving his t-shirt down. He’s going to be late for practice with Yakov, if he doesn’t hurry. “What about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” he continues, breezily, “Your mother is very grateful for the five boxes of Japanese sweets one of them brought, that’s all. Didn’t she tell you about that? Really, quite a sweet kid. Keep him around, Vitya.”

“I -,” he swallows, grateful for the fact that his t-shirt is hiding his face, “I’ll try to.”

“And I’m glad you made up with Georgi and Chris,” his father adds, “Your mother and I didn’t know very well how fix that.”

“Yeah,” Victor chokes out, his hands curled into fists, clutching at his clothes, “It’s okay, I know.”

“Well, better get ready to bother Yakov with those ice things of yours,” he jokes, “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Victor whispers, when he hears the echo of his father’s footsteps disappear in the long corridors.

…

“You’re going to be fourteen next year,” is the first thing Yakov says that morning, “And I think it’s time to have you compete.”

Victor blinks, not sure if he’d heard him right, “Compete?”

“You’ve been able to qualify for the Muggle Junior Championships for  a while now,” his coach comments, “I just wasn’t sure you could control your magic that well, and I hoped we could push your media exposure as much as we could.” His eyes harden, “But it’s time, Victor.”

“Time?”

“You can win this, I’m sure of it,” Yakov waves it away, “It’s simply a matter of increasing your  stamina and actually crafting two programs that work for you. If you’re good, I can even let you get a quad in your Free.”

“I’m going to… compete,” Victor repeats, still not over the fact. He feels his grin form on his face, “I’m going to compete!”

“Now, now, don’t get too excited,” Yakov tries, but it’s honestly a lost cause, “We’ll have to first bring you to local things, maybe have a trip to St. Petersbug so you can meet new people, I’ve kept you much too hidden -”

“I’m going to compete!” Victor beams, running until he’s in front of Yakov, “I’m going to compete!”

He hugs him, ignoring the man’s small pained groan, and squeezes as hard as he can, extreme joy expanding throughout his skin, “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you !”

Victor’s never complained, really, about only practicing with Yakov’s students and the few Hogwarts figure skaters, because although he doesn’t mind media attention, he knows his parents aren’t comfortable with their child being reported on as much as he is. He’s been content to stay quiet, choosing to show off at Yuuri, pleased that someone is excited over his progress as he is, and only needled the coach every once in a while.

But… he’s always longed to show the world his skating. It’s a constant wish thrumming in his veins, pushing the beat of his heart, the need to have an audience , to hear clapping when he lands a jump, to listen to the commentators say his name freely, Victor Nikiforov , to go up to the Kiss and Cry with Yakov, high on the adrenaline that comes with being in a competition. He’s drooled over every famous skater he can find, oo-ed Muggle ice dancing and begged his parents to take him to a magical figure skating competition so he can see ice casting in real life, to see magic come alive on the ice.

Victor has even kind of choreographed his own exhibition program, during times of acute weakness. It mostly involves lots of funny magic and mermaids, but he’s quite proud of it.

Still… he hasn’t truly considered the possibility of competing, not seriously. Victor kind of thought maybe his parents wouldn’t let Yakov do that. They haven’t considered figure skating anything serious he’s doing, not even after Victor got fanmail and had people follow him to the rink near here (which was the reason they built a rink near the Mansion). Most pureblood wizards don’t, Victor knows that, because they still think figure skating is a Muggle thing, that he could never build a career out  of it, with the tiny amount of magic it incorporates in the programs. Victor’s learnt to simply nod his head and compromise, even though he rebels at the implication that magical figure skating and muggle figure skating are anything but lifestyles ,  his dreams and hopes.

With that on his mind, he buries his head in his coach’s chest, hugging tight.

“Oh, Merlin, Victor,” Yakov murmurs, “You’re going to absolutely destroy the figure skating community, aren’t you?” He runs his hands through his hair, almost absently, “I can’t actually believe I’m doing this for you, you dorky genius.”

…

Oh my God, I can’t believe it! You’re really going to try for Junior Championships? That’s amazing! O.O I wish I could be there to cheer you on while you win ALL of the events! I have no doubt about it, you hardworking doofus <3

Phichit’s already integrated himself into the figure skating world, ever since I told him I’m starting it this year. He’s so sweet. I think he’s stalking Javier Fernandez’s twitter like crazy. I showed his “Aerobics Class” routine to Minako, which was maybe not the best idea. By the way, have I mentioned how embarrassing it is to fall on the ice? The teachers at the rink here are always shouting at me to get up before I freeze my knees off. Well, excuse me , I didn’t ask to wear thin trousers to this practice, did I?

Anyway, let’s stop talking about me! How’s Yuri doing? Is he eating well? I’ve sent him about two boxes of cookies, but he never replies to my texts. I guess he’s just shy, Yuuko’s told me he messages her from time of time. They’re friends? Which is. Kind of cute, actually.  

And speaking of texts, you need to get a phone! I love writing letters to you (it’s really fancy, you sweet wizard), but texting is much quicker and we can even Skype. Phichit and Guang-Hong keep bothering me about a group Skype, and you know Leo goes with whatever Guang-Hong says...Hmph.

I had lots of fun at the party :) See you in September, or whenever you want to meet boring old me!

Yuuri :3

…

August has a theme, and it is: anticipation .

“I’m not choreographing your short program right now,” Yakov complains, as Victor brainstorms wildly, eyes wide with excitement, “You’ve still got many things to  learn before we begin that. Try improving your time on the ice without falling over.”

Victor pouts, “That’s mean.”

“Yes, well,” Yakov shoots him a Look, “If you did your exercises with Lilia, like Yuri does, maybe you would manage not to beg me for water every time I make you do something moderately complicated.”

“Yuri only does them because Lilia is blackmailing him with her grandmother’s borscht recipe,” Victor mumbles, pressing his knees against his chest and resting his head on his legs, “And because he found out Yuuri is apparently great at ballet, so now he’s trying to be better.”

Yakov sighs, “I hate children so much. Can’t you all be like Georgi? Georgi does whatever I say.”

“Only because he’s a complete pushover.”

“You could learn a thing or two, stubborn child.”

So he’s mostly ordered to improve his spins and spirals, after Yakov clearly tells him he knows Victor’s been doing jumps without his consent (“If you break a leg, your mother will never forgive me!”), and warned beforehand not to try the Biellmann again, just in case his magic flares up. For some reason, whenever he spins, arching his back or his free leg reaches his waist, time seems to completely stop . He loses himself, in the feeling of the ice below him, steady and unwavering as he rotates, his heartbeat slowing, his eyes fluttering closed just for the shortest part of a second.

Victor clearly remembers the first time he executed the scratch spin, after Yakov led him through the two foot to one spin, groaning at every time he tried to jump instead of entering a spin. He can still recall his coach’s growly voice, “Keep your body strong! Stop making your spin travel! Victoooor !”, and his whining about how difficult it was, and didn’t Yakov know it made him dizzy as hell?

But there was nothing like the short startled jump of his heart when he properly established his spin, both his free leg and arms slowly retreating closer to his body, as if preparing he was tensing every muscle in body, his leg bent in front of him. It reminded him, weirdly, of a misshapen pirouette.

After the giddy moment of triumph while he spun, his cheeks flushing with the sharp air whizzing past his face, I did it , Yakov’s voice brought him back to reality, calling out instructions. Victor can still feel the comfortable pulsing of his blood as he carefully moved his knee above and across, the blade brushing against his too-big practice trousers. And there’s no way of forgetting the way his breath caught as the spin picked up speed slightly, while his free leg slid downwards, something ruthless but delicate guiding his limbs.

Once it touched the ice, he bit his lip and stuck his free leg in the air again, gliding on one foot, his arms finally stretched out wide, soaring as the thrill of spinning slowly left his body, his head swirling.

“That was very good,” Yakov admitted, albeit in his surly demeanor, “But we’re not practicing that around other people.”

Victor gently skated to a stop, panting, and cocked his head in question, before realizing what Yakov meant.

All the ice below him had changed colours, the glacial surface folding itself with intense pigment in the pattern of a curving spiral with its centre located on the exact point he’d spun on. He hadn’t noticed, while he was focusing on keeping his spin centered, on the way his magic had bled out from him, a torrent of uncontrollable emotion that drew the permanent version of the feeling of rotating on himself, almost like a planet.

Victor felt, for one breathtaking moment, like the centre of a glowing supernova.

“ Wow ,” he breathed, in English.

“If you’re going to unleash your magic whenever we do anything you’re not used to,” Yakov threatened him, “I’m going to keep you doing toe loops until you grow old.”

He’s kinda excited to focusing on something other than jumps, now.

Apart from Yakov’s unbearable tyranny and torture methods, the other thing to look forward to is Hogwarts.

It’ll be his Third Year, so he’s already gotten the letter from the school to choose his electives. After hours of staring at the inscription letter, burying his face in his pillows and refusing to make himself choose, he finally decided on Muggle Studies and Ancient Runes. Divination is too mystical for him, Arithmancy has maths , and he can take a course on Magical Creatures simply using the Mansion’s library. Choosing Muggle Studies is a challenge for him, in a way, to find himself in a class about a completely different world from his. Maybe Yuuri can help him out, if he’s got some trouble with him. That would be… pretty awesome. Really cool. Amazing, even. Super-duper.

Victor stuff his face with his pillows again. This is awful .

Third Year also means he can go visit Hogsmeade some weekends, if his parents sign the permission slip, which he’s been looking forward to since he first came to Hogwarts. The small village has some interesting shops, a library, and even an overwhelmingly pink café, apparently, which sounds fun. Phichit’s already sent him letters demanding that all of them go on a “group date” at least once.

It’ll be romantic! , he writes, in his messy, swirly script, and I promise not to bother you and Yuuri.

Merlin help him.

It’s two weeks before he has to get on the Hogwarts Express once more, before he sees Yuuri and the others again, before classes begin, before he can truly start preparing himself for a competition .

He feels a smile curve his lips involuntarily.

Victor honestly can’t wait.

Chapter Text

“They don’t fit,” Yuuri moans, dropping his weight on top of his suitcase and sprawling his legs so as to cover as much surface as possible. “It’s too bulky.”

“You just don’t have enough motivation,” Mari sniffs, lifting her chin up. She’s wearing her trademark Gryffindor headband pushing her hair back, the slightest bit of eyeliner on her face. “Anything can fit in your bag if you want it bad enough.”

“Not magical ice skates,” Yuuri grumbles at her, pouting. He carefully gets off his suitcase and sits on the floor, resting his back against the edge of his bed. “I don’t want anything to get crushed by them.”

“Can’t you just… shrink them?” Mari smirks, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against his doorframe smugly.

Yuuri scowls, hoping he communicates just how annoyed he is. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Oh right,” she smiles sweetly, “You can’t do magic until you get to Hogwarts. Oops. I’d forgotten, you know, since I’m -”

“- an adult, yes, I know,” he sighs, rubbing his cheeks with his hands. It’s cold. He wishes Victor was there, with his comforting Warming Charms. “Can you just do it for me? Please?”

“Well, if you ask so nicely,” she titters, taking out her wand and muttering the spell quietly, his dark blue skates slowly becoming the size of two dice immediately after her words leave her lips.

“Thanks,” he tells her, sincere.

His sister blushes, just slightly, making him chuckle. She’s been enjoying showing off her magic ever since her birthday, to the dismay of his parents, who sometimes arrive to the house only to find a stereo playing boyband music on its own, with no way of turning it off until she gets home. Carefully, Yuuri puts the tiny skates inside a small leather bag, so they won’t get lost (Yuuko would never forgive him), and finally closes his suitcase comfortably, letting out a soft breath of relief.

“I’m graduating this year,” Mari says, breaking the silence, almost painfully blunt. She swallows hard, looking away from Yuuri. “You better not get in trouble once I’m not there to slap you around, Yuuri. Remember to study, eh?”

“I’ll be fine,” Yuuri answers her, sitting on his bed, and feeling his chest tighten. He’s known, of course, that Mari would leave soon. He knows it’s not as if he spends every waking minute with her during the school year, since he’s more often hanging out with Phichit and the others, but…

She’s still his sister, a piece of home, who’s been available for any emergency ever since he started school, no more than a fifteen minute walk away no matter where he was. She’s still Mari, obnoxious and loud but undeniably supportive.

It’s going to be hard, without that sense of reassuring safety. Without Mari’s meddling and teasing, and their occasional quiet picnics. Without the emotional rollercoaster of an experience that is trying to convince the house elves to let them make yakisoba (to their complete horror) and giving Minami a serving when there’s more than they can eat (to his complete delight).

But…

“I’ll be fine, Mari,” Yuuri repeats, hoping he sounds confident. “Phichit knows where my instructions are, and Minako will watch over me whether I want her to or not.”

“You should listen to the Headmistress, brat,” she mutters, looking away with small smile, “She’s a great woman, for your information. Knows how to beat everyone at beer pong.”

“...I don’t want to know that story.”

“Seventh year is beautiful, Yuuri.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, laughing, “You’re totally lying, Mari! I’m not buying it!”

“What?” his sister responds, mock-offended, eyes widening dramatically, “Who’s this impertinent teenager and what has he done with my sweet little brother?”

He flushes, “I’m not impertinent, I’m just honest.”

“He’s got a mouth on him!” Mari wails, putting the back of her palm against her forehead.

“I’m telling Mom if you keep saying that!”

“Snitch! I’ll tell her you keep Skyping Phichit after lights out!”

Gasp. “You wouldn’t!”

…

They end up driving to King’s Cross a little later than usual, their mom sighing in desperation at Yuuri’s frantic squeaks signalling that he’s forgotten yet another essential part of his luggage, jumping to run up the stairs in order to get it. That way, most people are already inside the Hogwarts Express when they arrive, peeking out the windows and waving enthusiastically.

“Have a good term, you hear me?” their dad asks both of them, sniffing a little, “You’re both getting so much older.”

“Sweetheart, Yuuri’s barely twelve -”

“So much older.”

“We’ll be just fine, dad.” Yuuri rubs his back awkwardly, trying not to tear up himself. It’s always a challenge to leave home, as clichéd as it sounds. Home means  the comfort of his parents, who understand him better than anyone in the world, but he can’t stay there forever. He’s tried that, and it simply doesn’t work. Locking himself up in his room for one entire summer didn’t make his anxiety any better.

His doctor didn’t approve of boarding school when his parents brought it up, shortly after Yuuri’s first stunt with accidental magic. He thought that getting Yuuri out of his comfort zone so suddenly and completely would be a mistake, could cause him constant anxiety and end up in him begging to go back home. The preferred option would be to stay in London while he went to school.

But Hogwarts is the only magical school in Britain, and it’s exclusively a boarding school. Yuuri had to make a choice: magic or no magic? Risk it or not?

It haunted him, for unending weeks, months, curled up on his bed and listening to the same calming music he keeps in his mp3 player even now, his gut a tight coil of nerves and doubt. Yuuri had always wanted to study magic, to become a proper wizard, just like Mari, to find a new world… But would he survive it? Would he be able to stay at an entirely different environment, with people he’d never met, learning about unexplored subjects that he had no prior experience with?

In the end, he chose magic, obviously, despite his doctor’s quiet disapproval. The doctor insisted on Yuuri being ready for any eventuality, though, so Yuuri attended the necessary sessions to train himself to recognize an anxiety attack, to memorize all the instructions and to teach the Hogwarts staff so that they could help him in case anything serious happened. He tired of endless breathing exercises those months, reciting numbers in his head and visualizing any and every image he could think of. It felt completely useless while he was doing it, like he was wasting his time, sitting in a tiny room and desperately begging himself to perform, to convince everyone that he could do it, could face being away from home without needing anyone.

His doctor tried to explain, carefully and sympathetically, that though the exercises might seem more time-consuming than anything else, they would help if he gave it his all. So Yuuri did, to the best of his ability. He can see now that it undoubtedly helped, if only so that he knew he wasn’t helpless. Mari took him out with some of her friends that summer, quietly attempting to get him used to bigger crowds of strange people. The Yuuri three years ago wouldn’t have managed a practical exam, where his focus and confidence was just as important as wand movement, he knows that.

But it was still terrifying, deciding to come back this year after almost having a full-blown panic attack with Victor, after stopping just short of his vision going black, without anybody that could help him. He hopes… he really hopes he made the right choice.

Yuuri looks at his dad, wiping at his eyes nervously. His parents weren’t that emotional the last two years, although he’s smart enough to know they were probably just hiding it, afraid of making him nervous. Now that they’ve seen him with Phichit, Victor and (on one hilarious situation this last summer) Minami, they’re relieved.

“Don’t cry, dad,” he tells him, choking up a bit. “I’ll end up writing you a thousand letters, anyway.”

His dad mutters in rapid Japanese, the way he’s wont to do when he wants to swear but he’s in front of them, as if they haven’t already memorized every curse word under the sun, and turns to Mari, sweeping her up in a hug.

“My girl!” he squeezes her, while she awkwardly holds him back, “My last time saying goodbye to you before you go to school.”

“Dad, I’m probably going to Muggle college -”

“My last time.”

Mom smiles at them, sweet, pinching Yuuri’s face despite the yelp he lets out, “You’re both so adorable. Now, hurry up and get on the train, or Minako will scold me.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he chooses to ignore the Minako comment (only god knows what she and his family get up to when he’s not there) standing on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek, absently noticing he’s grown taller this summer. Huh.

“...You can let go of me now, dad, this is getting weird,” Mari mutters, still trapped in their father’s bone crushing grip.

…

Phichit, once again, throws himself at him the second he walks into their compartment, screeching in Thai about something that’s...probably relevant. Yuuri can only catch “summer” and “Yuuri” in his babble, from the few times the boy has tried to teach him something, so he’s going to let it go for now.

“Phichit, stop, you’re killing him,” Leo says, completely deadpan, not making a move to help him escape the Hufflepuff’s suffocating hold.

“Oh no, what a tragedy.” Phichit sighs dramatically.

“Gee, thanks.” Yuuri scrunches up his nose, untangling himself from Phichit and laughing at his adorable pout. Victor and Guang-Hong are sitting near the window, both of them absorbed in their own world: Victor with his novel and Guang-Hong with his new Samsung. It’s still a sore topic that he didn’t choose an iPhone (Phichit’s been whining “Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!” every time he takes it out). “Hey, everyone.”

Victor looks up, blue eyes moving up and down his body before settling on his face, his lips curling into a soft smile. His hair is even longer than it was at the summer banquet, almost falling on his shoulders, his right eye partly covered by his fringe. It looks nice. “Hey, Yuuri. Missed you.”

He beams at him. “Yeah, same here. How’re you, Guang-Hong? Did you go to the fair like you wanted to?”

The younger Hufflepuff blushes a ridiculous shade of pink, lifting his gaze from the screen and glancing at Leo before focusing his eyes on his lap, ears flushed. “Yeah. Leo took me. It was really fun.” Guang-Hong turns to look at him, expression bright. “I never knew so many wizards work at fun fairs!”

“Yes, well.” Leo crosses his arms over his chest loosely, a small smile on his face. He gestures at Guang-Hong. “Magic is all abound if you travel in London with a wizard.”

He blushes even harder, burying his face behind his phone again.

Victor, who’s in front of the both of them, shares a Look with Yuuri, as if asking, ‘Is this normal?’

Yuuri nods solemnly, although he’s quite surprised someone used to Yuri’s antics would be bewildered with Leo’s growing soft spot for Guang-Hong. Beside him, Phichit’s taking artsy pictures of a speck of dust on the door handle, biting his lip to get the perfect angle, crouching. Victor’s already shaken his head and gone back to his novel, while Leo and Guang-Hong start to argue fondly about who was braver on the roller coaster they went on. Looking at them, Yuuri thinks, almost delirious with joy, I’m back .

…

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Yuri Plisetsky hisses at him at the Great Hall the first day of classes, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands in front of the Hufflepuff table, lifting his chin with poise, “We meet again.”

“We go to the same school, Yuri.” He can’t help but smile, cocking his head. “How was the rest of your summer? You never reply to my texts.”

“That is because it would mean lowering myself to your level,” Yuri sniffs, huffing indignantly. “I have better things to do than converse with those inferior to me.”

Yuuri frowns, confused. “Then why did you come talk to me here, at my table?”

The Slytherin’s face pinks, the colour spreading all the way down his neck and disappearing down his black robes, his tiger-shaped pin roaring threateningly at Yuuri. “I-I have my reasons!” he growls, before turning around and storming off, heading towards his own table.

“Alright,” Yuuri says mildly, “Nice to see you, too, Yuri!”

“He loves you!” Mila calls out, cackling when the Slytherin boy tackles her to shut her up.

…

Third Year means Electives. Electives mean that, for the first time since he started at Hogwarts, Phichit won’t be in some of his classes.

Yuuri’s chosen Care of Magical Creatures and Study of Ancient Runes for his two electives, given that Muggle Studies would probably be all stuff he already knows, Arithmancy meant numbers, creators of all sadness in this world, and he wasn’t really sure what Divination even was. But Phichit, being well, Phichit, obviously took Muggle Studies without hesitation, jumping at the chance to be able to use his gadgets during class, and then opted for Divination as his second elective.

“I’ll be reading your fortune and predicting your imminent death in no time,” his best friend tells him cheerfully, when they’re discussing their schedule in their bedroom, sitting on the bed lazily. “It’s going to be so much fun!”

He must see Yuuri’s pathetic attempt at a normal expression, as he pauses for a few seconds before adding in that all-knowing, wonderful way of his, “You know, Seung Gil is in Ancient Runes. He’s truly quite nice, I think it’d be okay if you two sat together. Merlin knows you would get on, given you’re both complete nerds.”

“I’m not a nerd, Phichit. I just study a lot.”

“That’s exactly what a nerd would say.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes, amused despite himself. He doesn’t know yet if he actually wants to try to get to know Seung Gil (the Ravenclaw tends to stare at everyone like they’re beneath him, and he somehow knows all of Yuuri’s secrets. He still hasn’t forgotten the ballet revelation at last year’s party), but he isn’t about to say that to Phichit, who looks ready to switch classes in a heartbeat if Yuuri so much as mentions being lonely. His friend deserves to do his own thing, and not be held behind by his stupid insecurities.

“Also, did you know your Victor has managed to get me to use ‘Merlin’ as an expression by sheer exposure to his poshness?” Phichit pouts, burying his face in his pillow. “My parents are threatening to take me back to Thailand if I ever get a British accent.”

Yuuri snorts. “You would sound so weird with a British accent.”

“Oh, shut up, I’d be charming and seductive.”

“Maybe to Celestino,” he teases, elbowing him and relishing in his squeak. “Ciao Ciao thinks you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Hufflepuff.”

“I take one picture of him,” Phichit moans, “that ends up going viral, and suddenly he’s calling me up for photoshoots every week. Artists are so demanding.”

…

September has the comforting routine of settling in that he’s gotten used to after two years. He’s got more classes now, more hours that he spends studying, highlighting his books with muggle pens (which makes his pureblood teachers close their eyes in fear of the parchment, but hey, it’s practical), and this year he has to practice both ballet and figure skating, so Celestino, who spent a good number of years skating when he was younger, was chosen to act as his coach during the school year. Minako still hits him with her newspaper.

The electives go well enough. Yuuri only knows Leo in his Care of Magical Creatures class, and he makes a beeline for him immediately every time, standing next to him nervously. Yuuri really hopes he isn’t bothering Leo, but his friend doesn’t seem to mind; he actually gets excited telling him about what he’d read in the textbook before.

He’s considering setting up an orchestra in the school, too, now that he can play better.

“I mean,” the Gryffindor flushes, “I’m still not great at viola, but I’ve got to start somewhere, right? If I just study alone and don’t get some examples from proper musicians, then I’m not going to get better.”

“I bet an orchestra with you in it would be absolutely brilliant.” Yuuri smiles at him, while the Professor drones on, differentiating between Beast, Being or Pest, the three most important terms in this subject, judging by how many hours he’s spent talking about it. “You should play for us some time.”

Leo ducks his head. “Um, sometime, yeah.”

In Ancient Runes, Victor and Yuuri sit together, just like in Potions, although there’s fewer explosions and Yakov’s shouting. It also smells nicer.

It quickly becomes apparent, though, that Divination is the star of their third year, despite the fact that Yuuri doesn’t even take the subject.

“I can see the future,” Phichit whispers, his eyes wide, pupils blown. He’s standing on top of the table at the Hufflepuff Common Room, wearing a purple cape and keeping all the first and second years enthralled with his dramatics. “It speaks of terrible things, of dangers that we do not yet know that we do not yet know. It speaks of endless suffering, children. Do not venture into the Forbidden Forest, if you wish to remain alive.”

Guang-Hong buries his face in his hands. “Someone please stop him.”

A tiny first year gapes at Phichit, “Really?”

“Would I ever lie to you, young boy?” Phichit leans down until he’s kneeling, patting the Hufflepuff gently and letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I am but the stars’ humble messenger.”

“Hey, Phichit,” Leo calls out from where he’s sitting in the the corner, doing his music homework. “I’ve got a prophecy for you.”

“Yes, my apprentice?”

Yuuri could stop this. He really could.

He isn’t going to, though.

“Your iPhone will shatter into pieces,” the Gryffindor announces solemnly, his expression serious. “And so will your heart with it.”

Silence.

Phichit’s breath shudders, his whole body giving out as he sinks to his knees on the floor, eyes wide with terror. His hand is clutching at the edges of his robe, fingers gripping desperately. A harrowing whisper escapes him, “...When? How?!”

“I’m smashing it against the wall.”

Honestly, his friends.

His skating lessons with Celestino get off to a rocky start. They have practice three times per week, during the times when the rink is empty (Yuuri is still a bit embarrassed to have the other skaters see him), and he often hangs out during the collective skates on the weekends, if only to glide along with Victor and Yuuko, laughing happily. It has helped him improve his way of falling and getting up properly, even if his coach at the muggle rink this summer spent hours and hours drilling the method into his head.

Celestino, though, is used to magical skating, and he’s much more demanding than the group of nice adult figure skaters he met during the summer, although not reaching Minako levels, thank God. That means he sees Yuuri putting on his buttpads, and dismisses it, saying, “A young wizard like you can just use Cushioning Charms, yes?” despite the fact that they haven’t even done those in class yet. It means that even though Yuuri can do dips almost perfectly, has mastered every type of swizzle there is, and is already practicing his open glides, Celestino pouts and yells, “Show me some magic, boy!”.

“I just don’t get how magic works in magical figure skating,” Yuuri ends up whining one day after practice, panting and sitting on the first row of seats near the rink, trying to calm his breathing. “Am I supposed to cast a spell? I don’t get it.”

Celestino pauses for a few seconds, his lips pursed, and simply watches him, a peculiar glint in his eyes. He says, “Yuuri, am I right in saying no one has ever explained magical figure skating to you?”

“Um,” he bites his lip, “Yuuko kind of...mentioned...some stuff. And Victor likes to ramble!”

His coach sighs, moving until he’s sitting down next to him. “Magical figure skating, Yuuri, is possibly one of the sports that’s most similar to its muggle counterpart. The majority of wizards don’t even know it exists separately, even, and a great number of magical figure skaters compete in muggle competitions, given how small the sport is in the magical community.

“You probably know about the three categories of muggle figure skating,” Celestino carries on, “Singles, Pair Skating and Ice Dancing. Well, in figure skating we’ve got Ice Casting instead of Ice Dancing.”

“Ice casting,” Yuuri repeats, not quite sure what the name entails. “That sounds...sparkly.”

“It is,” Celestino murmurs, a smile curving his lips. “It’s the category where magic truly shines in figure skating, and some people consider it an art form instead of a sport, regardless of the immense effort it takes to cast and skate at the same time, even at a basic level.

“Basically, spells are woven through step sequences and wand movements,” his coach gestures at his own wand in his hand. “It requires an immense amount of focus to achieve both an impressive physical performance, and manage to cast what one means to. Personally, I think it’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever seen in sports.”

Yuuri rests his head on top of his hand, eyes wide. Casting spells… through step sequences? How would that even work? Although he prefers doing magic without a wand (something which continues to annoy his sister, who struggles to manage an Accio without it), he’s never tried to perform magic in that way, with his entire body.

“But, as you might have guessed,” Celestino smiles, “There’s no wands in Pair Skating or Singles. So, the question is, how do we perform magic?”

“The first step is winged skates. Winged skates require energy from the skater to do their job, but their main effect is that it adds stability and length to the time you spend on air during jumps and quads. You’ll get more points for using your wings during the second half of the program, as a big part of your magical energy has already been drained.”

“The second part is wandless magic,” the Coach’s eyes brighten. “It’s extremely difficult, terribly exhausting and thrilling to watch happen on ice. It relies largely on the emotional aspects of the performance, and usually happens naturally, although skaters hone their skills before competitions.” He shrugs, “The most popular displays are usually colour magic, light magic, glitter magic or drawing on the ice. I especially enjoyed a show back in the 80s in which a skater would manipulate the ice to rise and fall while she spun.”

Yuuri stares at him, “So it’s supposed to just… come naturally?”

Celestino takes pity on him, apparently, because he smiles and ruffles his hair, uncharacteristically fond, “You’ll get it, my boy! Don’t sweat about it, most figure skaters use only winged skates until they’re adults because of how complicated wandless magic is.”

Left with the encouraging advice of “don’t worry!” and “it’ll just happen !”, Yuuri just doesn’t quite know what to do , except try to use his wings a little more. Victor offers to help, carefully instructing him in how to groom them so as not to accidentally break them or dirty them excessively, and begins helping him connect with the wings.

“So, um,” the Slytherin’s cheeks are red from the cold, “The first training exercise I did was just getting to feel the wings move with myself as I was off the ice.”

Yuuri purses his lips, “I have to jump?”

“...Not exactly,” Victor squeaks, before swallowing hard, grabbing Yuuri by the waist, and lifting him without a warning.

“Victor!” he yelps, terrified. He knows the boy is quite steady, even whilst skating, but it’s still horrifying to know any slip could make them crash into the ice.

“Focus on your wings, Yuuri!” he shouts at him, completely merciless, “Try to make them work!”

“ How ? Why do magical figure skaters never explain anything properyl ?” Yuuri laments, miserable.

It takes a few tries of Victor holding him up, surprisingly strong for how slender he looks, and yelling at him to make his wings move, before he actually feels them flap gently. It’s only a shiver of air curling into his skin, something pulling at his skate, familiar and disturbingly similar to a part of his own body, and it’s so startling that he almost flails, but he quickly realizes that would probably kill them both.

“See?” Victor asks, smug, once he sets him down, panting, “I knew you could do it!”

“You’re the worst,” Yuuri whines, flustered. He can’t believe he had to humiliate himself like that on one of the few days his practices with Celestino are with the rest of the skaters, and it’s not just them alone. “I would have figured it out alone, anyway.”

“Aw, Yuuri .”

…

One of the biggest changes that come with Third Year is Jean Jacques’s rising popularity.

The Canadian Hufflepuff Fifth Year has always been liked and admired by a good part of the student population (or, at least, so Phichit tells him. Yuuri prefers to stay out of most gossiping), but apparently some recent album release or something has made him stand out and become one of Hogwarts’s stars.

“I mean, I’m no one without my fans,” Jean Jacques tells Yuuri, while they’re in the Hufflepuff Common Room, flashing a trademark grin at him. “You’ll know when you grow up, Yuuri.”

“I’m two years younger than you, Jean Jacques,” he reminds him, although he finds him kind of amusing, at least.

“Ah-ah-ah,” the boy corrects him, pressing a finger to Yuuri’s lips and startling him. He winks, “I go by JJ now, ‘kay? Let’s say…it’s my artistic name.”

“It’s literally your initials,” Yuri chews the head of a licorice stick, raising his eyebrows at JJ’s words while he rests his forearm on Yuuri’s armchair, arms crossed, “Not that original, is it?”

Jean Jacques is still beaming at him, but it looks slightly forced now, “What an adorable little boy. Shouldn’t he be, you know, with the snakes?”

Yuri narrows his eyes, “Now, you listen to me, you rotten ass badger – “

“He’s got classes!” Yuuri rushes in, standing up quickly and grabbing him by his forearm, shooting a look at him that he hopes conveys ‘if you get me in trouble with the Hufflepuff prefects again for insulting our values, I’m not giving you any pork cutlet bowl servings for a week’. “I should really get him to his classes.”

Yuri puts his fingers in the shape of a V against his eyes, and then points it at JJ, glaring at him. “I’ll be watching you, pompous brat.”

“Well, isn’t he a sweet little lamb,” JJ smiles through gritted teeth.

“Someday, you’re going to get me hexed,” Yuuri huffs, dragging the Slytherin boy behind him and shoving some more licorice at him. “Here, take this and share it with Mila.”

“I’m not sharing with Mila.” Yuri scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “She always keeps the best sweets for herself.”

“Yuri,” he warns, “share with your friend.”

The Slytherin groans, pursing his lips, but nods, sighing dramatically as he puts the licorice in his pocket. “Whatever. It’s not like I even like it, anyway.”

“And don’t make JJ mad.” Yuuri’s not even sure if this is the right call, because Yuri delights in doing the opposite of whatever Yuuri asks him to, sometimes. “He’s older than you and he’s got an army of fans.”

“He can fight me,” Yuri grumbles, breaking out of his hold and stomping his feet until he reaches the exit to the Common Room.

“Like a puppy fighting a hound,” Phichit remarks from his seat near the fireplace, eyes twinkling. He’s not entirely wrong.

JJ continues to grow more and more famous, though. Soon, “JJ STYLE” is plastered all over students’ clothes and personal items, and “Theme of King JJ” plays on every device available, be it muggle or magical. The guy himself thrives on the attention, inviting over his admirers to his room and showing them around, delighted to ‘get them to know better’. It gets to the point where Yuuri has to escape to his room to get any studying done, lest he be bothered by screaming Second Years about how ‘totally super awesome’ the Hufflepuff is.

And yet, the best part about the whole thing is, without a doubt, Victor’s reaction.

Victor’s always told Yuuri that he detests the attention the public pays to him, that he’d much rather go without the flashing lights of the cameras and the adoring fans with his face printed on every surface. Yuuri, of course, believes him. If there’s one thing that he’s learnt about Victor in these three years (wow, he realizes, slightly shocked, it’s been three years of being Victor Nikiforov’s friend), is that his fame and he are at odds constantly.

“Yuuri,” Victor murmurs one day in October, while Yakov’s informing them about Confusing Concoction and just how much they’re supposed to not misuse it, “Do you know who ‘JJ’ is?”

He blinks, tearing his eyes from the steaming cauldron to glance at Victor, an incredulous expression on his face, “You don’t?”

“Well, obviously,” Victor flicks his cheek with his right hand, letting out a soft snort when Yuuri pouts and rubs at it, “Or I wouldn’t have asked. Try to keep up, Hufflepuff.”

“He’s actually a Hufflepuff, Jean Jacques Leroy,” Yuuri tells him, taking the chance to punch his arm lightly in retribution. “A Fifth Year. I guess he’s a musical genius? At least, that’s what they’re calling him. Everyone likes him now. His songs are okay, I guess, but Leo likes to complain there’s not enough instrumental, so what do I know.”

“They’re calling him a genius,” Victor repeats slowly. “Him. Jean Jacques. This…singer. He’s a genius.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri nods his head, not really knowing where he’s trying to go, “He gets really annoying sometimes, though. Yuri doesn’t like him.” He pauses. “But Yuri doesn’t like most people, so that’s not saying much.”

“Yuri worships you,” Victor mutters offhandedly, as if it’s reflex, which kind of makes Yuuri blush.

“I mean,” he stutters, “you’ll be glad someone else is at the centre of attention, right?” He knocks their shoulders together, softly this time, “Maybe we could play some video games if you don’t have an interview this weekend. Mila’s been trying to beat you ever since you completed Rainbow Road.”

“Yes,” Victor shakes his head a bit, looking down at Yuuri with a fond smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, bright and sincere. It makes his heart ache in his chest, and flusters him enough that he breaks eye contact, choosing to focus on their lesson instead. That’s been happening a lot recently: him refusing to meet Victor’s eyes, or feeling out of breath when he speaks to him, maybe even losing his train of thought during the times Victor holds his hand while they skate, their fingers entwined.

It’s probably nothing.

“Yes,” Victor says again, and Yuuri hurries to listen, “I must blue shell the insubordination out of that girl.”

“Victor,” Yuuri gasps, leaning in closer to him and elbowing him playfully, “Don’t be cruel, she’s only a child.”

“Nikiforov, Katsuki,” Yakov snaps, and both of them turn their heads to look at him guiltily, although Victor seems more pleased with himself than anything else, the smart bastard. “You gonna actually behave like you’re in class, or should I get you two a room?”

Yuuri flushes, “Class, Professor.”

He wonders why Victor chooses to stay quiet.

The talk of JJ comes back a few days later, when they’re in the Great Hall, and a girl gets JJ’s autograph. From across the room, Victor stabs his roast beef with murderous intent, smiling brightly all the while. At the end of that week, the place in The Daily Prophet usually reserved for a fascinating report on Victor’s bathing habits or his favourite type of curtains is occupied by an article on “JJ STYLE: A NEW TREND FOR THE PEACEFUL MAGICAL GENERATION?”. The Slytherin pleasantly tells Yuuri that “only peasants read the paper”, and refuses to buy it, despite the fact that literally everyone knows he collects the articles on the Animal section, and loves doing old Sudoku’s in the Muggle News page.

For once, it’s Georgi who figures out what’s wrong first.

“I can’t believe Ice Prince Victor himself is jealous of someone else,” the boy mutters after the latest of Victor’s tantrums (chucking a JJ CD down the toilet and binding it there with a Sticking Charm, to the house elves’ dismay. Thankfully, Yuuri figured that out with some spontaneous wandless magic that he hopes didn’t mess anything up. Honestly, his magic can go either way). Georgi’s sprawling on the Slytherin Common Room green velvet couch, and Yuuri’s trying to keep a count of how many Slytherins allow themselves to relax in his presence, and just how much that number changes over time. Surprisingly, the First Years like him enough that almost all of them slouch on the couches and ask him for help with their homework.

It’s getting fun, hanging out with them there, even if he’s the only one from another house. Chris always makes sure to bring him Coca-Cola as a peace offering. Yuuri doesn’t ask where he got it from. With Chris, that’s generally the preferred approach.

“Jealous?” Yuuri looks up from his Ancient Runes textbook. “Victor? But doesn’t he hate the media fuss around him?”

“Oh, I’m sure he hates the media fuss,” Georgi glances at his nails, huffing, “But he probably hates the media silence even more. A delicate boy like Victor will start to think he’s being ignored.”

“Bet you ten quid that Victor’s gonna know a new quad by the end of the week,” Mila shouts from her desk, putting her legs on the coffee table. A Seventh Year shoots her a scalding look, and she smiles innocently. “And that he’ll be showing Yuuri at least three times before he’s satisfied.”

“Three times?” Chris snorts, sitting down next to them, “I thought you were supposed to be smart. Put me down for ten times before Victor can take his boyfriend somewhere else.”

“We’re not – “ Yuuri splutters, uncertain how the conversation took this sudden turn.

“I’m betting that Nikiforov will wear the short leggings,” Yuri mumbles, his voice muffled by the pillow he’s holding over his head to hide from the world. He does that a lot.

“Hi, Yuri,” Yuuri tells him, because he figures he’s got to like being acknowledged.

“Piss off.” Apparently not.

“Look, Katsuki,” Georgi continues, “Victor dislikes being famous and he hates trivial media. But,” he pokes Yuuri’s nose forcefully, “He’s a skating addict, okay? He probably thinks this JJ is captivating a crowd with shitty music when he has stellar blades. So he’s being petty.”

“Victor doesn’t enjoy being a celebrity,” Chris summarizes, patting him on the head condescendingly, “But he sure loves everyone praising his figure skating.”

“That… makes sense,” Yuuri mutters slowly. He smiles, despite himself. “It’s kinda cute.”

Mila and Yuri make matching disgusted noises, turning away from him, “Ew, teenagers.”

“I’m not even thirteen yet!” Yuuri pouts, reaching down to ruffle Yuri’s hair, laughing in delight when the younger boy starts shouting out profanity and swatting at his hand.

…

In the end, Victor performs the i quad toe loop six times before he lets Yuuri drag him off the rink to get some sleep. Phichit wins the money, after he put in a bet without Yuuri’s knowledge.

The next day’s Prophet has Victor’s face all over it. The boy looks at it in the morning, and there’s a slight moment of surprise, in which his eyes widen just the tiniest bit, and his lips curl upwards, and then he’s dismissive again, reciting to Yuuri the principles of journalism.

Yuuri smiles, trying not to be knowing, sitting down next to Victor on the Slytherin Table. Without letting himself hesitate, he squeezes Victor’s hand, reassuring, and whispers in his ear, “Don’t think so much about what the papers write, dummy. You’re the only genius I’ll ever care about, anyway.”

Victor’s ears turn the cutest shade of red he’s ever seen, and Yuri gives him shit about it for the whole day.

…

“Yuri’s on the Quidditch team,” Victor blurts out the first thing during one of their study sessions in the library, and Yuuri squeaks so loud the librarian gives him a dirty look.

“Sorry!” he whispers, covering his mouth with his hands guiltily. He stares at Victor, “He’s on a Quidditch team?”

The Slytherin nods happily, his eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri fans himself, “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day. Scratch that, all year.” He leans in closer to Victor so as not to shout, “Tell me everything.”

“Well,” Victor smirks, “JJ’s on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. And the Beater position was open in Slytherin. It took some nudging from Mila and Chris and voilà! Our small child is on the team.”

“But he’s so tiny,” Yuuri grabs the end of Victor’s sleeves, worried, “Won’t he get hurt by the balls? Don’t Beaters get hurt? This is serious, Victor!”

“Can you guys go be overprotective parents somewhere else?” Seung-Gil scowls at them, glaring. He’s reading a History of Magic textbook at the table next to them. “Some of us need to study, you know.”

“He’s going to tell Phichit on you,” Victor  tells him smugly, completely unhelpful.

“Shut up and take me to where Yuri is,” Yuuri mumbles, hoping he isn’t blushing. “I need pictures of him with his Quidditch robes on. Oh my god, can we get him and Leo to pose together? Phichit would have an aneurysm.”

Victor smiles at him, his eyes softening, and murmurs, “As you wish, Yuuri.”

…

“Are you sure it’s okay if you skate, do ballet and join a Quidditch team, Yuri?” Yuuri asks him, holding his broom for the boy and watching him awkwardly getting into his robes. “It’s a lot of activities, and you’re only twelve.”

“You’re twelve, too,” Yuri scowls, getting his clothes on and stealing the broom from Yuuri’s grip with a huff, “And I can handle it. I’m not limited to what you filthy peasants can do in a specific timeframe. Don’t think you’re going to be better than me, either,” he warns, poking at him with the broom. “Nikiforov better watch out.”

Yuuri rolls his eyes and pats his head, laughing at the shriek he lets out, “I’m trying to make sure you have fun, too. Hogwarts should be enjoyable, you know? Spending time with your friends, fooling around…”

“Oh, I bet you fool around a lot,” Yuri mutters, mysteriously.

“Do you have any favourite Quidditch teams?” he asks, sitting down at the edge of the boy’s bed and petting his cat absently. They’ve got about ten more minutes before it’s time to go for the match, so Yuuri’s milking his quality time with the Slytherin for all it’s worth. “I’m still an uneducated muggle in the magical sports world.”

“Meh,” Yuri huffs, “They all suck compared to me, obviously. Although there’s a pretty decent guy in the Kazakhstan team, the Seeker. He’s only like fifteen or something, too, and he’s not an ass like that dreadful guy in your House.”

“JJ is not dreadful,” he scolds him lightly, “I bet you two could be friends if you put your mind to it.”

Yuri mimes throwing up.

…

It’s Yuuri’s birthday soon after that, and this year, he makes Phichit swear not to throw him a surprise birthday party.

“ Why ?” his friend moans, writhing on the bed, “Why must you punish me this way, Yuuri?! After everything I’ve done for you!”

“The party last year was very nice,” Yuuri laughs, sitting down next to him and poking his sides, snorting at the squeaks it produces,  “But I think this year it’d be best to just know how I’ll be celebrating? Just…”

“Oh,” Phichit freezes, turning to look at him, “Did I… did I make you uncomfortable? I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t think I would - “

“It was a little weird,” he admits, fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves, “And it took a little to get used to. But I’m alright, I think. It’d be best if I prepare myself in advance?”

“Of course,” Phichit murmurs, voice low, “I’m… I’m really sorry, Yuuri.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri curls his fingers into fists by his side. He’s always tried to wave off apologies in the past, fearful that saying something was wrong would make people get angry with him, but Victor didn’t seem to have that reaction, when Yuuri told him off last year. Maybe it’s time to actually speak up if something bothers him, even if it’s a small thing. “It’s alright,” he repeats, “Just don’t do it again, if you can.”

“I swear on my mother’s grave.”

“Phichit, your mother isn’t dead.”

“Aren’t we all a little dead, inside?”

Touché .

In the end, everyone gets together and they ask the house elves for some birthday cake. Victor complains about the weather (“I wanted to take you skating for your birthday, Yuuri!” “Victor, you can take me tomorrow.”), and Mari comes down from Gryffindor to give Yuuri his gift.

Which is when all hell breaks loose.

“Oh. My. God .” Mari whispers, her hands going up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide. “I’m screaming.”

“No, you aren’t,” Seung-Gil hides his face in his hands, sighing, “Why would you say you’re screaming if you - “

“Hush, baby,” Phichit pats his head, “It’s alright, people are idiots.”

“What’s wrong, Mari?” Yuuri doesn’t really know what’s happening, but he can recognize the familiar sight of his sister freaking out.

“Who is that ?” she points an accusing finger...at Yuri.

The Slytherin scowls, “Huh?”

“You look exactly like my favourite band member!” she gushes, rushing until she’s sitting beside him, her cheeks flushed, “You’re like a baby version of him, this is unreal . Can I take a picture? Oh my god, can I tweet this? Franny’s gonna die.”

Yuri blinks at her, stunned, and then glares at Yuuri fiercely,  “You didn’t tell me there were two of you.”

…

“Hey, Yuuri,” Victor mumbles, “How are you?”

Yuuri looks up from his homework, lifting his eyes to meet Victor’s. “Um, I’m okay? How about you, Victor? Do you like… want anything?”

“No!” he blurts out, awkwardly standing next to Yuuri’s desk, “I mean, yes.”

Yuuri furrows his brow, “What?”

“You seem like someone who really likes the outdoors, Yuuri!” Victor shouts, way too loud in the Hufflepuff Common Room, gripping the edge of Yuuri’s table, his knuckles white.

“I… do?”

“Yes!” the boy nods quickly, determined, “Someone who respects and appreciates nature!”

“I mean,” Yuuri winces, “I once let a cactus die? But it was in England, so I’m blaming the rain. I’m confident I would have managed to save it in Japan. Phichit agrees, so…”

“Based on this previous information,” Victor barrells on, leaning forward and resting his body on the edge of his table. His face is centimeters away from Yuuri’s. His eyes are really blue. “Would you enjoy, perhaps, a lovely Saturday afternoon in Hogsmeade?”

Wait .

“Are you…” He cuts himself off. “Do you mean… you want us to go to Hogsmeade together?”

Like… like a date? he doesn’t say.

“W-with Phichit and Leo!” Victor chokes out. “With our friends ! Yes! Our friends !”

“Oh,” he realizes, not sure why he’s feeling slightly disappointed. “Alright. I didn’t know the Hogsmeade weekend was coming up.” He cocks his head, “Maybe we can have some butterbeer, Takeshi won’t stop telling me about it.”

“Yeah,” Victor mutters, dejected.

He’s still - Victor is just really close. Their noses are almost touching, even. Yuuri can see the sparkle in the other boy’s eyes, can feel the slight thrum in the air that accompanies him whenever he goes, the soft hum of latent magic surrounding him. There’s an eyelash on Victor’s cheek. Yuuri should actually blow it away, it’d take one second.

He doesn’t.

“Ah,” Yuuri turns his head. His cheeks are hot. “Should we meet at the entrance this Saturday? With Phichit and Leo, I mean.”

“Sure,” his friend agrees, voice small.

…

Hogsmeade is a small, snowy village near Hogwarts, with old cottages making up the only-non muggle settlement in all of Britain. Its shops are lit with dripping candles, their colours slowly seeping into the snow below them, and people make their way through the town at a measured pace, unhurried. It looks like something out of a Christmas film, too homey and traditional to be real.

“It’s gorgeous,” Yuuri breathes, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his neck.

“It truly is,” Phichit agrees. His eyes are roaming over the little buildings, calculating. “Come on, Yuuri, take a picture with me. Please? I’m begging you.”

“You don’t have to beg,” he teases, pulling his friend by the end of his sleeve and pressing him against his side. Phichit, exultant, kisses his cheek noisily, making him groan, before taking out his phone and snapping a quick selfie. “Ugh, I look awful.”

“Nonsense, you’re a beauty.” Phichit waves his worries away. “Just ask Victor.”

“W-why me?”

Leo pats him on the back, “Chill, Victor.”

“Yeah, Victor.” Phichit grins. “All this snow, and you have zero chill.” He high-fives Leo. “That’s my boy, de la Iglesia. I knew Guang-Hong was only a temporary thing.”

The Gryffindor looks guilty, looking down at his feet, “Um… I told him we could meet today. So, er, I might leave a little earlier than expected.”

“How dare you,” Phichit whispers dramatically, turning so he can bury his face in Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri, used to his antics, rubs his back reassuringly, and tries not to smile. “Shoving your affair in front of me like this. Have you no shame?”

“I mean, you’re my friend, so… I have very little.”

“You know what, Leo?” Phichit pouts, “You should take your sass, and put it in your pocket.”

Leo looks at him for a few long seconds without moving, and says, “I will never completely understand you.”

Victor snorts, “That’s an understatement.”

“Guys, behave,” Yuuri shushes them. “We promised Yuuko we wouldn’t make any trouble,” he lowers his voice, “since she’s on her date .”

“Her date with Takeshi ,” Phichit whispers back at him, eyes twinkling, before they both dissolve into giggles.

“This is so mature, guys,” Leo huffs, “Yuuko and Takeshi are dating, it’s not a funny joke.”

“They’re in looooove ,” Yuuri coos, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Oh my, do you think they held hands on the way to Madam Puddifoot’s?” Phichit elbows him, “That would have been a sight to see.”

“I bet Takeshi tried the arm thing,” Yuuri snickers. “He’s so cute, sometimes.”

“The arm thing?” although Leo’s the one who asks, all three of his friends seem confused. “What the hell is the arm thing?”

“You know,” he tries to explain, “When you’re sitting somewhere with your date, and you like fake-yawn in order to put your arm around them. It’s in every film ever!”

“My mother thinks television is a capitalist invention designed to create mindless robots,” Leo recites faithfully. “And these two are more pureblood than Salazar Slytherin. How do you think we’d catch a Muggle film reference?”

Yuuri flushes. “I thought it was universal, alright?”

“But wait,” Phichit steps away from him slightly, a devious look in his eyes, “I don’t think I really understood the move you described. Show me?”

“Um,” he frowns at him, “I guess? C’mere - “

“No, no,” his friend tuts, “I can’t betray Leo like that, even if he’s so free with his affections. Just show me on Victor, will you?”

“O-okay,” he mutters, carefully walking towards where the Slytherin is standing, just a step away from everybody else, his green and silver scarf hiding most of his face. The boy glances at him when Phichit says that, eyes widening, what’s visible of his cheeks red from the cold. “Just stand still, okay, Victor? It’s a really stupid move, but it’s funny to watch.”

He stands next to him, their shoulders touching, and fakes the loudest yawn he can, stretching his arms until one of them is raised behind Victor’s back. The Slytherin stiffens, swallowing hard, and Yuuri thinks, Maybe this wasn’t a great idea , but his arm is already being lowered slowly, until he drapes it over his shoulders lavishly, curling his fingers around the beginning of the boy’s forearm and pushing him close.

Victor is… he’s very warm , despite the cold weather. Yuuri can’t - Yuuri can’t look away from the face he’s making, biting his lip slightly, his eyes downcast, his face flushed. The red travels down his cheeks and inches downwards, while reaches up to  the tip of his ears. Victor has always mocked Yuuri for being so sensitive to the cold, explaining his unusual tolerance for it by saying he’s got Russian blood, laughing when Yuuri mutters that “genes aren’t fair”, but now, if he looks closely, he can see Victor shiver.

Without knowing why, his eyes fall on the blue bracelet he made him in First Year. Victor’s still wearing it.

“... Is that how you do it?” Phichit’s voice reaches him, snapping him out of his thoughts suddenly. Yuuri whips his head around to glance at him, well aware that he’s just been staring at Victor for way too long.

Flustered, he quickly takes his arm away, clutching it close to his side, and mutters, “Um, yeah, that’s how you do it.”

His fingers fall on his left wrist, where he’s wearing the bracelet Victor made him.

He doesn’t look at Victor, embarrassed. That was weird. It was weird, right?

“Thank you for the demonstration, you two.” The other Hufflepuff grins. “It was quite instructive.”

They end up going to Dervish and Banges to buy some stuff for Leo’s viola, including new sheet music that he fawns over, excitedly telling them about Telemann this or Telemann that, and Phichit accidentally knocks over a tuba, which he manages to get out of with many promises, shamelessly using his last name.

After that, Phichit insists they head to Zonko’s, as he’s making a collection of joke items for himself. It’s there that Victor reveals his terrible weakness.

“Merlin!” the boy exclaims, rushing to one of the shelves. “Sugar Quills!”

“What about them?” Leo mumbles, zipping up his coat as far as it goes. “They always make my teeth ache after I suck on them for too long. Minako doesn’t mind them, though, so Transfiguration is always fun.”

“I love Sugar Quills,” Victor gushes, eyes shining. Is that… is that drool coming out of his mouth? Out of pureblood, proper, dressed-like-a-prince Victor? No way . “I could have Sugar Quills until I died from a sugar overdose, I swear.”

“Do you want to buy some?” Yuuri asks, the corners of his lips curling upwards.

Victor takes his hands off the shelf immediately, his expression plagued with guilt, “No...I shouldn’t, my parents dislike them. Leo’s right, they have too much sugar.”

Yuuri frowns, “But you can have a few, if you like them so much. Just don’t buy the entire box, like Phichit would.”

“Hey!”

“No, it’s fine,” Victor mumbles, staring at his feet, “I should really look after my health better. I’m an athlete, after all.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow, “One Sugar Quill really won’t ruin your figure skating career, Victor, I’m quite sure of that.”

“Still, I’m not going to -”

“Victor, please , don’t be ridicu -”

“I’m serious about my skating, alright?!” Victor snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Yuuri, “So stop treating me as if I’m being stupid.”

He storms off, stomping his way into another section of the joke shop without looking back, leaving the three of them behind him, stunned. Yuuri stares after him, uncertain. What did he say? What happened? Did he screw up again?

“Victor needs to chill a little,” Phichit mutters, letting out a soft sigh. “I like him, Yuuri, but he’s so quick to snap.”

“I said something , didn’t I?” he swallows, “Even if he overreacted, a little.”

Both of his friends nod.

“I should go apologize, right?” he asks, rubbing his wrist anxiously, “He’s… it’s a good idea to apologize? I don’t… I don’t really know what to do when people are angry at me.”

Victor looked mad . And… they haven’t fought since last year at all, except petty arguments over who gets what at lunchtime, or bickering over small stuff. What if… what if Victor decides he doesn’t want him around anymore? What if he realizes how bad he is at knowing when to stop teasing? What if Victor just… stops being his friend? What if - ?

Phichit’s hands cover his own, gently touching his knuckles, startling him, “You should apologize, Yuuri. He’ll accept it, I’m sure of it.”

“Try telling him that he shouldn’t just storm off like that, alright?” Leo adds, moving closer to pat his back, although not before he gives him time to move away. “Victor’s such a drama queen sometimes.”

Yuuri swallows, fighting the tears at the corners of his eyes. “I’ll uh, I’ll do that. Thanks, guys.”

“Anytime.” Phichit smiles.

He hurries to the back of the shop, remembering where he saw Victor disappear off to, and finds him glaring at a bag of suspicious looking teacups. He’s standing, muscles stiff, without moving, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Um,” Yuuri swallows again, clearing his head. “I-I’m really s-sorry, Victor. I really did-didn’t mean to say something rude. Please tell me what I did wrong.”

His friend doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, still resolutely ignoring him. He’s always thought of Victor as a warm person, someone whose smiles could melt the densest of snowfalls, who lights up rooms with his presence and steals hearts with a meticulously planned wink. But now that he’s seeing him, he seems cold, almost far away.

“Victor,” Yuuri tries again, “P-please talk to me.”

His hands are shaking. God, he really doesn’t want to do this. What he does want is to run away, to rush all the way back to Hogwarts and find Mari right now , to bury his head in her chest and hug her tight. But he can’t do that. Mari is graduating this year, and he can’t keep relying on her for everything. Yuuri has to learn to solve his problems by himself.

Victor finally turns around, his expression stoney, “Stop treating me like a child, Yuuri.”

“But…” he flounders, “I mean, you’re twelve.”

He backtracks, seeing Victor’s thundery frown, “Not that I’m older or anything! You’ll be thirteen next month! I just mean... we are children.”

“That’s not what I mean ,” the Slytherin bites out. “Stop deciding what’s good for me, alright? I’ve already got my parents to do that. You don’t need to go around making friends for me, like I’m a pity case, or saying what food I can or cannot take. I’ve done just fine without you all these years.”

“Oh,” Yuuri whispers, small. The shop’s walls are suffocating him. “I d-don’t think of you like that, Victor, I swear. I just thought… well, I just thought you had a hard time in Slytherin, and maybe it’d be easier for you to make your own friends in other Houses. I wasn’t- I really didn’t think I was um, doing that.”

“You’re not my mother , Yuuri,” Victor glowers, “They already boss me around enough without your help, okay?”

“But…” he bites his lip, “Don’t friends help each other?”

The boy freezes.

“I was just…” He fidgets with his scarf, going over each loose thread with his fingers. “I was trying to be a good friend, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was being annoying. You just… you looked really sad in Slytherin, so I wanted to stop that. And you got so excited over the Sugar Quills that I was really hoping to see you enjoy one, is all.”

Victor sighs, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I just honestly can’t stay angry at you, Yuuri,” he mutters. “Look,” he meets his eyes, “you’re a mother hen sometimes, and I usually don’t mind that. Might even like it, a little. It’s nice, I guess. And seeing Yuri react to it is priceless. But just.. people are already dismissive enough about my skating,” he explains, threading his fingers together in front of him. “I make sacrifices to keep doing it, you know? My grades are really good, but I can’t study much because I’m always at practice, I can’t eat sweet stuff, and I’m trying to start choreographing my short program for Junior Worlds already, so it’s incredibly stressful to even come here with you.”

He looks around, helpless, “I just keep thinking about how much time I’m wasting, about how other skaters will have already got everything figured out, and just - you did it without any bad intentions but- I’m just really stressed, Yuuri.”

Victor sounds so tired, when he says it like that, worn out and exhausted, his head hanging from his neck limply, as if he’s a puppet whose strings have been cut. I should have seen this coming , Yuuri bites his lip. He tries to rack his brain for any clues that he might have missed. Well, it’s true that he’s been cancelling studying sessions lately, and he has been staying at the rink for far too long, but he simply dismissed it as regular Victor behaviour. He’s always known the boy loves the ice far more than anyone.

Without giving himself time to think about it, he takes Victor’s wrist, the one with the bracelet on, and rubs his knuckles the same way Phichit did to him, clumsily comforting his friend. The boy’s head snaps up, surprised, the flush on his cheeks darkening.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, guilty, “I didn’t notice you were having such a hard time. I didn’t even know you were preparing for Junior Worlds already!”

Yuuri wonders, swallowing hard, why Victor didn’t tell him about Junior Worlds. He knows it’s a Big Deal (Yuri’s been talking about them ever since they met each other), and that it’ll be Victor’s first public performance in years. Did he think Yuuri would make fun of him or something? Was he nervous?

“Yes, um,” Victor looks away, “I didn’t tell you, either, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, I was just hoping to wait ‘til I could show you something well done.”

“But Victor,” he takes a deep breath, “you’re wrong.”

The Slytherin blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Mari’s spent the last year freaking out over exams,” he begins, “studying until her head exploded, carrying flash cards everywhere and refusing to meet her friends. She says it’s her last year, so she has to focus. But…” he fumbles with his words, “But she’s no fun that way! She always comes down to dinner super late, and talks really little. Besides,  I never see her during the summer because she’s with friends, when we actually have time together. And her friends all keep texting me to make her go see them, but I feel really awkward, so I don’t try.”

“I’m confused,” Victor tells him, honest to a fault.

“What I’m trying to say,” he squeezes his hand, seeing his friend’s eyes widen slightly, “is that um, sometimes you’ve got to relax, you know? What’s worth doing all that hard work, beating yourself up over it, if you can’t really enjoy it? I mean, you’re still twelve , gosh, I think we’ll have enough time to freak out over important things when we’re older. A Sugar Quill won’t kill you.

“You can be a professional, just as serious as any other, and have a little fun from time to time,” Yuuri murmurs, nervous. God, he just totally ranted like an idiot, didn’t he? Victor will kill him. “And I- I don’t think spending time with you is a waste of time.”

“Ugh,” Victor moans in frustration, startling him.  He’s staring at where their hands are joined together, biting his lower lip. No matter how much he tries, Yuuri can’t quite tell what his expression says about what he’s feeling.

Victor sighs, finally looking away to glance at one of the shelves with chocolate frogs on it, pouting,“You make too much sense, Yuuri, that’s not fair .”

A wave of relief washes over him, and he smiles weakly, feeling his heart start to calm down. Yuuri wasn’t sure how that would go down with Victor, who’s still sometimes as big of a mystery to him as magic is. He shrugs, a bit more at ease. “I’ve got great parents. It must have rubbed off on me. Just… I know you can’t change it overnight, Victor, but try to give yourself some time, ‘kay? I don’t like seeing you be sad.”

“This is why you’re an undeniable Hufflepuff,” Victor huffs, and squeezes Yuuri’s hand back, “...I’ll try not to be such an obsessed freak. Don’t expect any wonders.”

“Oh, how could I expect any wonders from Victor Nikiforov, genius of the Wizarding world?” Yuuri cocks his head, letting himself smile. That was terrifying . “It’s alright if it takes you forever, dummy. I’m still going to be ‘a mother hen’ then.”

Victor smirks, “You totally are.”

“Can I be ‘a father hen’?” Yuuri tries, “It sounds manlier.”

“Yuuri, you’re a man ,” he rolls his eyes, “Everything about you sounds manly.”

“I’m a man ?” Yuuri snickers, “I’m probably closer to a baby than I am to a man. Have you seen me trying to tie my shoes?”

“It’s quite adorable, for a man your age” Victor agrees, laughing when that only makes him groan.

They don’t let go of each other’s hands.

…

Winter break comes sooner than Yuuri expects it to, and in no time both he and Mari have to quickly pack their things and leave to spend the holidays with family. Kuro screams the whole way home on the Hogwarts Express , which makes Phichit groan and beg for the sweet relief of death. Yuri thinks the owl is “cool as fuck.”

His parents hug them the minute they step out of the platform, squeezing them tightly and kissing their foreheads reverently, gushing about how beautiful everything looks in London, with snow covering almost all available surfaces.There’s tourists in the city, excitedly snapping pictures without any recovery time, elbowing each other and pointing at some monument or another. Whenever any of the well-meaning foreigners try to ask them a question, looking lost, Mari pretends to live in Japan, sprouting some nonsensical sentences in the language, and drags them all behind her, tired from the trip.

“Was the term alright, Yuuri?” his father asks him while they’re having dinner at home, pork cutlet bowl on their plates (today is a blessed day, indeed).

“Yeah, it was okay,” he mumbles, chewing. “Victor’s trying to teach me some complicated jumps, and classes were mostly fine. Oh,” he remembers, “Phichit says hi, by the way.”

“Aw, Phichit,” his mother chuckles, and Mari rolls her eyes. “Such a sweet boy, isn’t he?”

“Not as sweet as Victor , according to Yuuri,” his sister snickers, hiding her face behind the bowl.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing .”

“Mari, come on, stop teasing me!”

“If only you wouldn’t make it so easy, brat -”

“Please!” their mother interrupts, “Let’s try to enjoy our meal. We can all argue later, if you want.”

“Oh no, mother,” Mari smirks, “Yuuri has to skype with Victor later.”

“T-that doesn’t even make sense!” he flounders, cheeks heating, “Victor’s a pureblood, technology is like, his enemy.”

Yuuri’s dad pats his mom sympathetically, “We should have had one kid only.”

The whole family goes to the Natural History Museum Ice Rink, which is outdoors for the season, and both Yuuri and Mari go out on the ice.

“If you laugh at me,” Mari warns, waggling a finger at him, “I’m telling Minako you forgot to practice your triple pirouette.”

Yuuri sniffs, pouting, “I would never laugh at you, Mari!”

Going ice skating in a public muggle rink is one of Yuuri’s favourite things to do, because his anxiety mostly stays down during the hour they spend there, drawing circles on the ice without any particular objective in mind. It helps that most people on the rink are inexperienced children and their parents, so they keep to themselves while falling down quite often, and knowing that Yuuri can skate comfortably, if not beautifully, means he isn’t constantly panicking about making a spectacle out of himself. He clings to Mari’s hand a lot, true, but… he feels slightly more confident on the ice, while the rented skates dig into his skin (he was afraid of bringing his own skates, lest he accidentally change the colour on them or something).

One of the people helping out at the public rink, a tall blond guy wearing a pink beanie and doing crossovers whenever he’s bored, sees him skate and smoothly glides until he’s beside the two of them, smiling.

“Wow, fella,” the guy says, letting out a whistle, “you’ve got mad skills, right there.”

Yuuri flushes. Now that he’s close, he can see that his eyes are a clear, beautiful blue. For some reason, it makes him just a bit nervous. “Y-yeah. I started skating a few months ago.”

“A few months ago?” the employee gapes, slowing himself down slightly, “You’ve got brilliant footwork, mate, I couldn’t even manage a two-foot glide for like, a month, and you look like you’re already starting out crossovers.”

“Hah,” he ducks his head, embarrassed, “I have a great teacher.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense.” The guy beams at him, strands of blond hair falling down onto his eyes. He looks really, really good; intimidatingly so. “You’re a true natural, believe me. Hang out at the indoor rink near here, you hear me, fella?”

“Y-yeah,” Yuuri mumbles. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, jesus.” He turns towards Mari, his lips curling upwards. “He called me sir, can you believe this child?”

His sister laughs, and soon, the employee has to leave to keep an eye on the rest of the people at the rink, but the damage is done.

“So,” Mari says conversationally, right after he’s gone. “Pretty guy, wasn’t he?”

“I’m going to skate alone, goodbye.”

“Denial doesn’t suit you, Yuuri!”

…

Yuuri sends Victor a notebook for his birthday, decorated with cut-out figures of famous skaters he knows he likes, and writes a fun message above the first few pages, to cheer him up a bit. He includes some sweets that Victor’s mom apparently likes, and a tamagotchi.

If pressed, Yuuri couldn’t say why he included the tamagotchi. Maybe to ease his mind, knowing Yuri would be spending the holidays with Victor; it’d give him some practice, at least. Although he doubts Yuri would ask Victor to clean his feces anytime soon.

The best present he receives that year is one that Chris sends him: a cute Christmas-themed postcard of him resting his back against a pole and wearing a Santa hat, with “ Join a beginners group for young pole dancers today! ” written on the inside.

…

Two days later, he receives a letter.

It just says:

Dear Yuuri,

The machine is dead.

…

Coming back after winter break brings one of the most memorable moments in Yuuri’s life.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri whispers, standing shock-still in the library. “You’re reading Sex and the City .”

Victor’s ears redden, and he shoves the book under the table, hissing furiously, “It’s for our Muggle Studies class! Shut up, shut up, shut up! Yuuko already gave me shit over this!”

Yuuri sits down in front of him, unable to contain his smile, leaning across the table to beam at Victor. He pats the boy on the head gently while he’s still talking. “You should be proud of all your reading adventures, Victor. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s supposed to teach us about muggle technology, and the average muggle’s ways of going about life, and it’s a very educational read, without any graphic sex scenes, okay -”

Victor ranting is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen , Yuuri thinks, eyes shining with laughter, and listens to his friend’s sloppy justification on why he’s reading a perfectly acceptable book to enjoy.

…

Third Year Potions isn’t extremely complicated in terms of number of potions (they did many more last year, to the point where Yuuri had gillyweed on his fingers for about a week one time), but the brewing and effects of the few they do prepare are much harsher and more difficult.

Luckily, Yuuri’s got Victor as a partner, which basically means he can do nothing but stare at him while still getting the highest marks in the class. He’s not actually going to do that, but he totally could. Victor’s a genius at Potions.

“How do you do it so well?” he laments one day, stressing over exactly at which temperature they need to heat their cauldron, miserable.

“Well, Yakov’s taught me since I was a kid,” Victor explains, to his surprise, carefully grabbing Yuuri’s hands before he can lose his temper at the cauldron and ruin their hard work. “And it’s more practice than anything, with this subject. I’m also pretty attuned to ambiance magic, so it’s quite easy for me to sense what the potion needs.”

“What it needs,” Yuuri repeats, disbelieving. “You’re making this up.”

Victor rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up , Yuuri.” He punches his arm lightly. “Potions totally have feelings.”

“Of course. How could Feltsman forget to mention that?”

“ Feel the potion, Katsuki,” he imitates their Professor’s voice, furrowing his eyebrows for full effect, scowling, “To make the potion, you must be the potion.”

A giggle escapes him, high-pitched and choked. “Stop it.”

“Alright, alright,” Victor sighs. He shoots Yuuri one of his Looks, with his eyebrow raised, his lips curled up into a self-assured smile, and an unmistakeable glint in his eyes. “And don’t ask me about how I can be ‘so good’ at this, Yuuri Katsuki. I have it on good authority that you’re in the top three students in this entire class.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “That’s just because I’m with you, Victor.”

“As if,” the boy huffs. “Yakov doesn’t grade pairs. He knows his stuff, trust me. If he says you’re good, then you’re good, ‘kay?”

Yuuri cocks his head, feeling his mood lighten instantly. “Your bond with our Professor is so endearing.”

Victor narrows his eyes. “Excuse me, the Headmistress-is-my-ballet-instructor boy, what were you saying?”

“Point taken.”

…

They all go to Yuri’s first match, against Ravenclaw, in which he comes out onto the field whacking Michel with his broom and shouting at the captain, in typical Yuri fashion. He has also managed to wrap the stick of his broom with leopard-pattern wallpaper, apparently.

“Didn’t the teacher make him take it off?” Yuuri wonders out loud, curious.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Victor says innocently. “Someone might have fixed it with a charm so that no one can take it off. But that’s just speculation, of course.”

“Victor!” Yuuri scolds him, hitting him on the arm reproachfully. “You can’t let him get away with everything! He needs to learn to follow rules sometimes.”

“Yuuri, Yuri deserves happiness. Stop raining on his charades.”

“It’s ‘stop raining on his parade’, Victor,” he corrects him, rolling his eyes, “Did you have Muggle Studies Idioms again?”

The Slytherin scowls, “Phichit knows all of them because of Instagram, and I’m stuck trying to differentiate between ‘it’s raining cats and dogs’ and ‘it’s raining deer and sheep’. It’s so unfair , Yuuri,” he whines, pawing at his shoulder weakly, “Save me from school.”

“There, there,” he smiles. It’s rare that Victor lets his goofy, petulant side show in public, where he’s always more reserved, and he likes it. Chris, from the row behind them, is rolling his eyes and tutting at them. “I’ll give you my sister’s copy of Eat, Pray, Love if you endure it.”

One eye opens, “Hardcover?”

He nods, almost stupidly fond.

Victor perks up, sitting straight up in his seat and looking at Yuri with determination. “There’s no time for wallowing, Yuuri! We must support our son!”

“Friend,” Yuuri corrects.

“Our son,” Victor repeats, without changing his expression.

Yuuri knows a lost cause when he sees one.

Yuri is, unsurprisingly, brilliant at Quidditch, just like he is at everything else he does (with the exception of Astronomy, where he’s caused three fires this year - so far). He’s got great balance on his broom, and, according to Leo, the steadiest grip he can see on the playing field. He sounds impressed when he says it, too. The young Slytherin is a natural at hitting balls, but he seems to still struggle slightly at avoiding them.

Suddenly, Yuri manages to direct the Bludger in the way that he brings down Ravenclaw’s Chaser, securing a point for his team, and Victor and Yuuri both stand up, cheering and clapping, hooting.

“That’s my boy!” Yuuri yells, pointing at Yuri excitedly, “I made him good luck biscuits for this game!”

“And I helped!” Victor adds.

Yuri flips them off from his broom, “Shut up, you pathetic losers! Get a life!”

“Gooooo, Slytherin!” Yuuri cheers.

They don’t win the match (the Ravenclaw Seeker is too fast for them to properly control the game), and both of them go down with Mila to greet Yuri. He’s coming out of the locker rooms, wearing a grey tracksuit and glaring at the ground, his broom hoisted on his back like a guitar.

“Hey, Yuri,” Yuuri starts, tentative, as the boy walks towards them, “You did amazingly. It was a wonderful first match.”

Yuri’s head snaps up, eyes widening slightly, and he coughs, “Um. I know it was, Katsuki, fuck off. And anyway,” he adds, squaring his shoulders, “I’ll kick their ass next time. Just give me time to knock out all their players. Let’s see how that Seung-Gil boy catches the Snitch when he’s in the Infirmary.”

Mila grins, fistbumping him, “My kind of strategy, beater boy.”

Victor moves until he’s standing beside Yuri, pats him back proudly, and tells him, “I can’t wait to see it.”

Yuri, just slightly, just long enough that Yuuri sees it, smiles.

…

“I predict that you will marry Yuuri soon in your future,” Phichit announces in the Hufflepuff Common Room, stunning Minami.

“Oh my god ,” Minami whispers, awestruck, turning towards Yuuri and reaching his hand out, as if to hold his, “This is the best moment of my life.”

“Wow,” Victor interrupts, loudly, “I can’t believe Divination is the most unreliable method for telling the future of all time, guys. It seriously has zero credibility. It sucks! Don’t fucking trust it.”

“I’ll be the best husband ever.” Minami buries his head in his hands. “Thank you, Prophet Phichit. I’ll cherish this memory until I die.”

At Yuuko’s urgent poking at his side, Yuuri removes his earphones, blinking at everyone talking near him, hearing his name being mentioned. “Did anyone say anything about me?”

Minami tears up, “He’s so beautiful when he’s disoriented.”

…

It shouldn’t happen.

Everyone - from the muggle coaches at the rink he practiced at this summer, to Celestino, to Victor and even Yuri , on his nicest moments - has been practicing falling on the ice with him.

He was surprised by it at first because, although he knows disciplines like martial arts teach how to fall safely intensively through a beginner’s first year, he didn’t know other western sports did the same, and especially not figure skating. And yet, he got the feeling it was an intrinsic part of learning, just as much as performing a jump.

Yuuri first practiced falling on the ice without his skates on, even, waddling around like a penguin and freezing his feet off, before they let him lace them on. They went through falling while he was still, then moving slowly, until they got to him skating faster (quite nerve-wracking, honestly, to plan to mess up), always watching carefully. Most of the coaches had their own personalized tips and advice, but it amounted to the same thing: don’t move around wildly, try to lean sideways, bend your knees. It seemed more annoying and painful than anything else when he first started practicing, but it helped him get through most classes without having a full-blown panic attack on the ice.

There’s something terrifying, about flying like that, without any type of support. There’s no stability in jumps, not like the way solidness rests on his core during glides, even if he can admit he does feel grounded when he lands. Jumping is some of the most frightening things Yuuri’s ever done, and he’s not even managed to get to quads , which sound beautiful yet fatal, but it also sets his heart racing in a good way, exhilarating and exciting.

And so, he’s fallen a few times on the ice. More than a few times. It’s never less embarrassing, unfortunately. Usually, Victor helps him up quicker than lightning, shooting to his side the second his elbows hit down, smiling reassuringly and pulling him up while patting him to get rid of the ice on his clothes. He hasn’t gotten hurt; nothing more serious than bruised knees and a few scrapes there and there, which make doing ballet at 6 am (the designated time when he’s on exam season, unfortunately) a pain, but not unbearable.

That’s why when he’s practicing his backwards crossover (that he’s already kind of gotten used to, after he got Feltsman shouting at him from across the rink whenever he messes up one of them, yelling instructions, despite Celestino’s complaining that he ’s his coach), he should be fine.

But then his blades knock together.

They clash, loudly and noticeably, making a metallic sound that makes Yuuri freeze . His heart’s racing, calling back to what the hell he’s supposed to do in this situation. Panicked, he swallows hard, hesitantly trying to move , to fix it, and just… he trips.

He honest-to-God, seriously trips , on skates.

Over his own feet.

The fall feels like it goes on forever .

He knows how to fall, but his mind is completely blank. Yuuri’s whole body is shaking clumsily, driven forward. He sees the ice get closer and closer and closer and closer - and his hands are going out, desperately wishing to stop his fall.

I have to turn -

He jerks on the ice, shifting his feet and -

Pain explodes in his right foot. He cries out, closing his eyes, and he’s turning he’s turning why can’t he see the ice and -

“ Yuuri !”

…

Yuuri comes to slowly and fuzzily, feeling like something is definitely off. It’s warm, wherever he is, and he can almost feel sunlight on his left arm, which is weird, because there’s no window at that angle in his room. His sheets (he’s on a bed, he’s pretty sure) are also strange, scratchy and thin, much different from the cozy blankets he and Phichit like to pile up in winter. Yuuri furrows his brow a little, confused, trying to recall how he got here, and struggles to open his eyes. His eyelids feel glued together.

“W-what,” he manages to mumble, unconsciously wincing. His head aches, a dull, quiet throb. “H-hello…?”

Where is he? What’s going on? What happened?

The most he can remember is being on the ice, practicing. Yuri was trying to challenge Mila to a skate off, he thinks , and Yuuko was doing really well with her waltz jump, to Takeshi’s delighted clapping. Victor was - shouting...

Wait. Did he…?

The memory is a bit fuzzy, but he thinks he recalls easing into a backwards crossover, at Ciao Ciao’s request. He was… he got nervous, didn’t he? No, he frowns slightly, biting his lower lip, he wasn’t just nervous; his anxiety was acting up. He knows it’s not the same thing.

He remembers, through sloppily constructed memories, that he… he fell .

Almost as if it’s a direct reaction to the memory, he sits up on the bed, feeling his heartbeat quicken erratically, shoving his eyes open. The movement makes his head spin, dizziness overcoming him as he immediately drops back down, swallowing hard. He tries awkwardly rising on his elbows, breath coming out in short, tired pants, but when he shifts on the bed his right foot, which he just moved as he scrambled, a searing fire starts in his nerves, as if there’s a bomb going on inside his body.

Yuuri can’t help it. He whimpers loudly, before letting himself fall back completely and actively resisting the urge to bend over the side of the bed and throw up. He grits his teeth, trying to distract himself.

His foot is probably broken. Oh god, he’s trying to figure skate and he broke his foot , his right foot, as if it wasn’t bad enough already. Are they going to be able to fix it? Is it permanently fucked up? Will he have to drive around in a wheelchair? There’s a new magical elevator at Hogwarts, he knows, because Minako complained about the amount of stairs, but he’s never been on it. What if he can’t ever go up the magical stairs again? Where is everybody? What if he can’t walk ? He doesn’t- he doesn’t want to -

“Yuuri, you’re awake!” a voice says. He can distantly hear it over the roar of his thoughts, but just slightly, like the person it belongs to is far, far away.

- does his mom know he’s hurt? Does Mari know? They’re probably not ever going to let him skate again, if he’s ever able to, because he wasn’t supposed to get hurt, he always screws everything up, why couldn’t he just stay safe , off-ice, without fucking things up?

A hand falls on his shoulder suddenly, and he flinches, inching away from it despite how insistently his foot protests, his ankle throbbing when he drags it across the bed. “N-no, please, don’t touch me, please.”

Please please please don’t. It feels wrong .

“Stop touching him!” a sharp voice cuts into his thoughts, and Yuuri thinks, Mari .

“M-Mari,” he whispers. His sister’s standing next to his bed, her hair messy and her eyes wide. “Mari, it hurts. It hurts a lot.”

Her face crumbles before him, and she bites her lip, waving away the woman next to her (probably the mediwitch, Yuuri realizes with a start, he’s surely in the Hospital Wing), “Yuuri, baby, I know. It’s going to get better, alright? It’s just a tiny sprain, and you hit your head, but you’re just fine,” she tells him firmly. “Trust me.”

“Your sister’s right,” the annoyed mediwitch confirms, glancing at Yuuri from the side of his bed. “There’s no need to worry about anything, Mr. Katsuki. I just wrapped your ankle in a cast and let you rest. You got a mild concussion, which is never fun, but thankfully you’re out of the danger zone by now. Try not to panic and rest abundantly.”

Try not to panic . If only.

“A cast,” Yuuri echoes, feeling his blood freeze, “H-how long before I can skate again?”

That’s when the mediwitch tsks, looking at him pointedly and crossing her arms over her chest, “ At least three weeks, if everything goes alright. And the moment I catch you trying to put on skates before I say so, I’m telling the Headmistress.”

“Three weeks,” he tastes the words on his tongue. He’s already started figure skating late enough, not even considering ballet, with his mediocre flexibility. How much will three weeks take him back? He’ll even need to do rehab , he suddenly thinks, horrified, it won’t be just getting better. “Why can’t you just heal it with a spell?”

“That’s easy to do with broken bones,” she explains, “But sprains are much more delicate, and I’d rather just let it heal the muggle way while I give you some potions to speed up the process.”

“Oh,” he murmurs, disappointed.

Suddenly, he realizes something. “Mari,” he reaches out with his hand to his sister, squeezing hand when she grabs it without hesitation, “Mari, do mom and dad know?”

“I’m going to call them now,” she tells him, her lips curling into a half-smile. “I wanted you to be able to talk to them when they heard the bad news.”

“Right.” Yuuri’s parents are ¾ serial worriers; he had to get it from someone . “Good idea.”

“Hey, Yuuri,” his sister traces an unfamiliar pattern on the palm of his hand, gentle, “your friends are outside. Do you want to see them?”

Yuuri looks up at her, biting his lip, “My friends?”

“Phichit and Victor have been there waiting since you got brought in,” she whispers, as if it’s a secret, “but Yuri’s totally hiding behind the entrance door since then too, I swear. And Leo and Yuuko and Takeshi got here a few minutes ago. Also,” she frowns, “someone named Minami is organizing a baking fair in your honour? Chris, that scandalous Slytherin model from your year, is making genital-shaped cookies, and Minako approves. I heard Professor Baranovskaya wants to burn them all.”

At the image of Chris sweetly presenting the intimidating Professor with penis-shaped cookies, Yuuri lets out a small, high-pitched snort. His breathing feels just a little bit lighter. He leans in close, nuzzling his cheek against Mari’s arm. “Let them in. And don’t accept weird pastries, Mari, you’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“I would never .”

…

The pastries are delicious, Yuuri himself can attest to them, as they bring a box of them up a few hours later, once they’ve got everything set up. He especially likes the intersex vanilla frosting ones. He gives Chris and Minami a kiss on the cheek to thank them.

“I will never wash my face again,” the Hufflepuff boy breathes, looking up at him, starry-eyed. “I shall be known as Minami Of The Unwashed Cheek.”

“Wow, you sure said that,” Mari mutters.

“Next time on the lips, will you?” Chris tells him cheerfully. “Riling Victor up is always fun.”

…

Having a cast on is… hard.

He got used to watching everyone skate around first year, enjoying how they all had fun and clapping at Victor’s sparse bouts of pride, twirling happily and skating up to him on the side, gushing, “Did you see that, Yuuri? Did you really see it?! I totally nailed that!” But that was before Yuuri actually got to step on the ice, to feel for himself the way crystals break below his feet as he slides around, to fall on his butt and have other kids in the muggle rink chuckle but help him up with easy smiles. It was before he brought up some of his off-ice practicing with Minako, asking for her help, and she raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms over her chest, and said, “Well, look who’s getting serious about this.”

Watching from the crappy stands near the rink now, he wants to join them. Phichit always comes to hang out with him whenever he tells him he’s going to watch Victor and the rest, silently understanding how hard it is for him to not be able to practice, and he drags Leo into it, too, so the three of them can bicker like they did in first year, laughing way too loudly and being shushed by the annoyed coaches.

It still sucks, though.

And that’s not the only thing that sucks about having a cast, or recovering from his stupid concussion. Although magic’s got charms for keeping his foot dry when he’s showering (thank the lord), and he can make it weightless (or, well, ask Victor to do it for him, smiling sheepishly. The Slytherin is always in such a hurry to help him that it’s actually quite funny), he still can’t wear clothes the right way (re-sizing them with a spell always takes too much energy to be worth it), still has to use the stupid elevator to go up and down, and needs Leo’s help to move around during Care of Magical Creatures, because crutches, no matter how magical they are, aren’t designed to work outside.

Another discovery: Healing Potions? They taste really bad.

So that’s why he’s gotten used to spending the day on his bed, reading up on wandless magic and making Victor do stuff for him (like move his pillow, or wave his hands around to cool him down), Definitely Not Sulking.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Victor says one day as he plops down on his bed next to him, “happy Valentine’s Day.”

Yuuri turns to glance at him, surprised. He hasn’t really been keeping track of the days (usually he just needs to know which day of the week it is to hobble to his next class, enduring Minako’s pointed remarks on physical therapy and the Astronomy’s teacher fascination with the planets aligning), and he’s stayed in his room a lot, so he hadn’t noticed anything festive coming up. Yuri likes to call him “a sad, broken, old man”. Yuuri thinks that just proves how much of a little wee bab he is.

“Oh,” he doesn’t quite know what to say. His cheeks flush. “Um, you too?”

Victor mumbles, “Remember our first Valentine’s at Hogwarts?”

Chocolates. Wearing clothes three sizes bigger than everyone else, and hanging out with Victor, feeling happier than he had in a very long time. Relaxing in his room, laughing without worrying about who was watching, without worrying about what he was eating or not.

He nods.

The Slytherin rubs the back of his neck guiltily. His ears are definitely red now. Yuuri sits up on the bed, feeling his heart race. “I, um, I brought you some chocolates? Since recently you’ve been so down with your ankle and all, and I thought ‘Well, that must suck a lot,’ and I know you’re really positive and stuff, but you’re still a person, and I figured you’d like some cool stuff, maybe, well, chocolate. Not that I mean you’re always eating chocolate, or anything! Which would be totally fine! But you don’t! I meant like, in a sugar-induces-a-good-mood way, you know? And um,” he ducks his head, “I’m going to shut up now, I think.”

Yuuri stares at him. He’s pretty sure his own face is redder than the communist flag. Victor’s just sitting there, head bowed, robes sticking out over his knees, his hair falling on his shoulders, so obviously brushed for the occasion. He’s got his nails painted pink , for heaven’s sake.

“I am the worst friend ever,” he says, and jumps to hug him.

“W-what?” Victor hugs him back on instinct, moving his head to look at him, “Yuuri, that’s not true!”

“It is!” he wails, holding on tight, “Here I am, lamenting in my misery, forcing you to do everything I can think of, while you comply and think of me. God! Victor, you’re honestly too sweet.”

“Um,” his friend mutters, flustered, “I, just, you know, thought -”

“Get those chocolates out, you adorable bean, I’m going to stuff my face.”

…

“Oh my god,” Yuuri whispers, dropping his crutches, “What have you done ?”

Minami, standing in front of him with an extremely obvious red streak in his hair, preens, putting his hands on his hips and puffing his chest out. “I decided to be myself.”

“Oh my god,” Yuuri repeats, because it’s worth saying it twice. “Did Phichit convince you to do this? Dear Jesus, did Yuri ? Feltsman and Baranovskaya are going to kill you, Minami! This is a serious violation of Hogwarts rules! I know Minako is pretty chill for a Headmistress, but not all Professors will let it sl -”

“This is who I really am , Yuuri,” Minami declares, taking a step forward and catching his hands with his own, startling him. Ouch. He hopes the boy doesn’t end up dropping him - it’d be a pain if he hurt himself again. “I knew I had to own up to myself if I was going to ask you to marry me.”

“ Marry me?” Yuuri echoes weakly.

“I did it with a spell,” Minami carries on, “so you can’t remove it, no matter how much the teachers try. I’m a wild man, Yuuri.” He focuses his eyes on him. “I’m prepared to fight for you. Leo’s got a storm coming.”

“ Leo ?” he squeaks. “What’s Leo got to do with anything?”

“I’ve seen how he looks at you,” the younger boy huffs, furrowing his brow slightly. “And you’re always talking secretly, and I know for a fact that he serenaded you with a violin -”

“He plays the viola,” Yuuri corrects automatically, used to Leo’s whining about people confusing the two instruments.

“- so don’t go telling me I’m wrong here!” Minami squeezes his hands. “Yuuri, I want you to dance for me. Someday, you’ll want it too.” He leans down, kissing the back of his palm. Yuuri has no idea what is currently happening, and he isn’t sure that would make the situation any better. “Think of me, my love.”

Minami  raises his head, “I must go now. I have an important quest to complete.”

“Don’t you have Herbology?”

“Same thing, darling.”

“...Can you at least hand me my crutches?”

“Oh. Right.”

…

A few days later, once almost half of the Hogwarts staff have declared Minami’s red streak a danger to modern civilization (to be fair, the boy did it to himself, so he can’t be blamed for it being a little wonky), Yuuri starts to take some offense.

“Okay,” he tells Phichit, biting his lip. “It’s kind of bad to ignore the rules like that, and I get why some Professors are pissed, but they were all a bit too harsh. It’s not like his hair is hurting anybody.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit pats his head fondly. “Let the streak die. Just… let it die.”

“But,” he fumbles with his words, crawling on his bed to the other side, dragging his foot behind him and wincing, “I mean, he really seemed to be excited about it? He’ll get bored of it soon enough and regret it, anyway, what’s wrong with letting him be?”

His friend cocks his head slowly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, “Yuuri… are you just saying this because the boy has the biggest crush on you? Because the streak must die.”

“No, I’m not!” Yuuri flushes, shoving Phichit without any heat. “He’s just… he was really sweet, you know? I kind of feel bad when he likes that thing so much. Would it honestly hurt that much to let the streak… not-die?”

Phichit is silent for a few moments, and then sighs very, very deeply. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

The next day, the three of them (Leo always gets roped into their crazy plans, no matter how much the Gryffindor protests), walk (or in Yuuri’s case, hobble) around Hogwarts with posters proclaiming, “#LETTHESTREAKLIVE”.

Minami starts crying once he sees them.

…

Yuuri thinks there are few better things in the world (Wizarding or otherwise) than getting his cast taken off.

It’s unbelievably freeing, to finally feel some air on his foot, after weeks of dragging it around while it was covered, musky and suffocating. The dead skin around it is peeling off slowly, noticeably pale even compared to his already light tone.

“This looks so gross,” Yuuri tells Phichit, making a face. They’ve gotten a bucket of water in the room for him to sink his foot in and start to move around slowly, wincing at the pull on his unused muscles. “It’s like I’m dying.”

Phichit sticks his hand in the water suddenly, grabbing some of the sad-looking pieces of floating skin and staring at them, “I think it’s really hardcore, Yuuri. See? You’re not dying, you’re shedding skin.”

“First of all, get your hands away from my water, ew ,” he scolds him, pouting. It’s his bucket. “And we’re badgers, Phichit, not snakes. I’m not a reptile .”

Phichit waggles his eyebrows, “You do kind of run like a turtle.”

“I do not , shut up; I’m an athlete , mind you.”

“Oh yeah,” his friend smirks, quickly moving so he can spread some of the dead skin on Yuuri’s cheek while he can’t run away, his foot throbbing. He whines, turning his head to try and avoid the icky stuff. “I know you and Victor do lots of exercise.”

Yuuri scowls at him, “You’re being clever, aren’t you.”

“Slowly rotate your ankle, Yuuri,” Phichit tells him cheerfully. “The mediwitch told you to, after all.”

…

Yuuri starts ballet before he goes on the ice. It’s a lot easier to keep his balance on a wooden floor, and Minako is still slightly shaken that he fell in front of everyone, he knows. She hasn’t even tried to hit him with her newspaper in the last half hour.

Stretching with her is… painful, for the first time since that first summer. His tendu on his recovering foot is so sloppy it’s embarrassing, and he winces every time he tries to widen his turn-out angle to his usual one. Yuuri’s trying not to feel too bad, though, he was warned that it’s always complicated to practice the first few weeks after rehabilitation, and he’s still not done with it. But then Minako makes him go through all the positions, as is their usual routine, the most basic ballet there is , and he stumbles switching to third.

His cheeks colour with embarrassment, quickly moving to hide his face from his instructor. Yuuri feels… he feels like he’s gone back two years, like he’s just lost all his hard work, his nights quietly practicing in his room while his family slept, like his stupid foot just ruined everything .

The corners of his eyes prickle with tears.

“Hey, Katsuki,” Minako interrupts him, her nimble feet making no sound on the smooth floor. “Do you need to go outside for a moment?”

She noticed . Minako noticed . She knows that he’s a complete failure, that he’s like a six year old, crying in class without any freaking reason -

“It’s alright if you’re upset, you know,” her hand settles on his shoulder, startling him into looking up at her, momentarily forgetting his tears. She’s giving him a half-smile, the curve of her lips kind. “Getting injured is always frustrating. But we can’t have a proper class if you don’t pick yourself up, you hear me?”

She huffs, “And don’t even go all that ‘I’m doomed now’ nonsense.” Minako swats at his neck, making him yelp. “As if I’d have a student who would fail over something as ridiculous as a sprained ankle. Don’t brood; you’re not that Plisetsky boy, it doesn’t look as cute.”

He smiles weakly, at that, remembering Yuri’s vengeful glare whenever he doesn’t get his way. “...Okay.” He bites his lip. “Can I… go wash my face?”

“You better, you look terrible.”

She’s so kind.

…

“I have something to tell you,” Victor says, and takes him to the Slytherin Common Room.

“This is giving me a strong sense of dejà vu, you know,” Yuuri jokes, trying not to sound uneasy. He shifts his weight from one leg to another, cocking his head. “Are you taking me to your room again?”

“Oh my god, that’s super gross,” a second year squeaks. “I don’t care that Phichit says that much stuff on his Twitter, do you have to talk about it in the open like that?”

Yuuri ignores them, letting himself be led down the stairs without resisting too much. Victor doesn’t seem nervous or angry, which is good, and Chris stops to pinch Yuuri’s cheeks when they pass his room. It’s still just the slightest bit terrifying to walk this corridor, though. Despite how hard he tries not to let it show, knowing only too well how guilty Victor felt for making him anxious, his throat closes up, his heart beats faster. God, he hopes Victor’s room is close.

“Here we go,” Victor announces, stopping in front of one of the green doors. He stares at Yuuri. “You have to promise to keep this secret, okay?”

Yuuri hesitates for a second, just before nodding at him, trying to smile. “‘Course, Victor. Was I right the first time? Did you hide dead bodies?”

Victor smirks, looking far too amused for his own good, and opens the door.

Instantly, Yuuri’s jaw drops, his eyes widen, his heart skips a beat. He can feel warmth rush through his entire body, his blood pumping faster than ever before. He drops down to his knees without any conscious thought, letting out a soft sigh, and opens his arms.

The poodle runs into them beaming, his tongue peeking out from his muzzle, yapping happily and licking at Yuuri’s face unabashedly. He paws at his chest, rubbing the top of his head against the back of Yuuri’s palm, shamelessly requesting he pat him.

“This is the greatest day of my life,” Yuuri whispers.

“His name is Makkacchin,” his friend sounds stupidly pleased, the lying liar who hid this beautiful creature from him. “He’s the best pet ever.”

“Don’t listen to him, Makka,” Yuuri coos, hugging the dog close. “You’re the best living being on this Earth. Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?!” Makkacchin wags his tail, frantic, hitting the ground as he leaps up to try and lick him again, watching him, his pupils flitting from side to side. “You are!”

“I’ve created a monster,” Victor murmurs, voice dripping with uncovered affection as he drops down to his knees beside him, trying to join in his petting efforts, while Yuuri whines and does his best to keep the dog all for himself.

…

After Easter break, Yuuri gets to his room to find Minami dressed up as a bunny. It’s honestly not the weirdest thing he’s ever seen him do. Probably doesn’t even make top ten.

“This is a thing that you are doing,” he says slowly, not quite sure what his intention is.

“Am I not ridiculously adorable?” the younger Hufflepuff whines, clutching at the edge of his school robes while he walks towards him. “Please show me some of your majestic ballet and figure skating!”

“Um,” Yuuri winces, looking down. “It’s not as majestic as you make it sound?”

“ How dare you ,” Minami breathes, his eyes wide in indignation. “I know you’ll be breathtaking.” He scowls, shifting his gaze towards the floor. “Victor can’t stop talking about how great you are. Why is Victor allowed to see but I’m not? I’m your future husband!”

“V-Victor thinks I’m great?” he asks, feeling his cheeks heat. It feels embarrassingly nice to know someone as cool as Victor, who has skated since he was young, praises him like that. “He’s probably just exaggerating.”

Minami narrows his eyes, sniffing slightly. “Someday, Yuuri, someday you’ll show me.”

He ruffles the boy’s hair, smiling. “Alright, Minami.”

…

Juggling figure skating and exams starts to become difficult after a while, and just watching Mari stress over her N.E.W.T.s, barely sleeping, makes him fear the mere thought of Seventh Year.

Victor helps a lot, thankfully, not complaining about studying together at the library, taking the time to explain everything patiently while drawing helpful diagrams. Really, Yuuri definitely doesn’t deserve him, he’s way too nice. In the meantime, he walks circles in his bedroom, reciting potion ingredients for his theoretical exam. Phichit doesn’t mind too much, and even compares their notes from time to time. He’s a big fan of the Shrinking Solution, a potion which makes people not only smaller in size, but also younger.

“It’s because I have the heart of a child,” his friend explains, smiling sweetly, when Yuuri asks why he keeps taking notes about it.

In Care of Magical Creatures, Leo and him team up with the First Years to find Flobberworms, just like they did when they were First Years. All of them look almost impossibly small, despite the fact that Yuuri’s just two years older, with tiny noses and short legs, so much shorter. He wonders if was he as awestruck by the Third Years as they seem to be, stuttering whenever they talk to them and calling them by their last name. It feels really cool to be respected.

The thing that’s the most exciting by far, though, is their last week of Transfiguration classes, because Minako teaches them about Animagi .

He’s read about them in their Transfiguration book before, and they’ve always seemed like one of the coolest thing in magic, without a doubt. People turning into animals has always been stuff of children’s movies and the fantasy genre, and Yuuri just can’t wait until they learn all about it.

To demonstrate, Minako turns into a swan in front of them for a few seconds, provoking an unending series of ooooh s and aaaaah s from the admiring students. It’s something out of a dream, to see her shape suddenly twist into one of a bird, her bones shaping themselves accordingly, vibrant feathers sprouting from her smooth skin.

But, the best part is that it actually feels like one of the first time that muggle, half-bloods and purebloods are all impressed by a show of magic, for once, since Yuuri knows there are few Animagi, as it’s incredibly difficult to achieve. He kind of likes the sense of togetherness it gives the class, how Phichit elbows him enthusiastically, eyes wide, to repeat, “Did you see that? Yuuri, did you see that?!”, when normally, he ’s the one who’s doing that, making a fool of himself and tripping over his own feet in an eager feeling to get closer to the extraordinary thing happening in front of him.

“Yes, Phichit,” he grins. “I saw.”

“Professor, can we pet you? Please ?”

“No one can survive an attempt to pet a swan, child, think a little.”

He tells Minako about how much he enjoyed class later that day, while they’re in the studio.

“I didn’t know you were an Animagus,” he gushes, beaming. “It’s so cool.”

“Oh well,” Minako preens, smug. “We had a director during our Swan Lake production who insisted I change on stage. It was quite a sight, with all the outfits and glitter, although today was alright.”

She looks at him for a second, thoughtful, and cocks her head. “You know, I was wondering what outfit I should prepare for your first exhibition. Maybe a swan motif would be good? Ooh, I bet you’d look simply gorgeous in feathers, and with those brown eyes, yes…”

…

Hogwarts’s graduation ceremony is slightly strange; or, at least, it is compared to the ones Yuuri’s seen on television, with funny hats and black gowns (they wear those every day here, so it’s hardly remarkable). Mari’s been talking about it ever since she was in Fourth Year, brimming with excitement at the thought of how she’ll act, what she’ll wear, who she’ll be with.

It’s quite simple, really. N.E.W.T.s grades come later in the summer, so no one’s completely sure what’s in store for the future, but there are no more exams, and all of the Seventh Years are leaving. They can have small celebrations in each House, in which the students say goodbye to their younger friends, or part with Professors they’ve been particularly friendly with, but the actual ceremony doesn’t involve much pomp and circumstance.

The three Heads (Boy, Girl and Other; this year, Nina, a cute non-binary Ravenclaw had the spot) have to give someone in a year below them one of their scarves, as is tradition, decorated with Hogwarts memorabilia, as well as a book with House secrets, passageways and old jokes written in it. After that, all the Seventh Years spend the morning together, talking about their time at Hogwarts and what they’re going to miss about it, why they came here, if they’re scared to leave. They do more things, sitting in a circle with dozens of students looking around at the place they must abandon, but it’s a graduation secret only some teachers know.

And then, once dusk comes, they leave in quiet, glowing rowing boats, crossing the Lake the same way they first arrived at Hogwarts.

…

Yuuri spends graduation day in his room, trying to concentrate and read a boring old novel Victor had left lying around in the room in the dungeons the other day, while they were playing with Makkacchin and trying to teach him how to sit (“How can you have a beautiful, smart dog, and not teach him how to sit?” “Well, excuse me, dog expert, I didn’t know I had to!”). It’s more complicated than it seems, and not because the protagonist has already attempted to escape her family twice, thirty pages in.

He just… It’s just hard to know, consciously, that he won’t have Mari around anymore. That she’s done with school, that she’s so much older , and has better things to do than sit around with her dumb little brother who can’t even manage to speak to people without panicking.

Intellectually, Yuuri kind of knows that Mari loves him. She’s told him, even though she starts punching him any time he calls her “sweet,” and she shows it in small, meaningful ways. Mari covers him with a blanket when he falls asleep on the couch, drooling and burrowing deeper into the pillows, letting out soft sighs; she always helps make food if their parents are gone for the day, despite complaining about it every step of the way; and she once got suspended for punching one of the older kids in his school, which she’s thankfully never done again.

But - Yuuri bites his lower lip, lowering his gaze from the yellowed pages to the pillow on his lap, feeling his heart beat faster - but sometimes he’s scared it’ll fade away once she’s out of his sight. That she won’t look back the minute she has her own flat, her own partner, her new family .

“Hey.” Phichit’s just come into the room, peeking at the door. He sees Yuuri and walks in, until he lets himself fall down on the bed beside him, wriggling his butt until they’re pressed together. He smiles at Yuuri, a sweet small smile that immediately distracts him. It’s honestly impressive how easily Phichit takes up all of his attention, so cheerful and happy and reassuring that sometimes he just wants to hold on, soak up all the good feelings Phichit helps him get, and never let go.

Phichit pokes at his shoulder. “You’re gonna be just fine, Yuuri, ‘kay? Mari’s already given me her Skype username.”

Yuuri rests his head on his best friend’s shoulder, moving closer to him with a tired sigh and mumbling, “I’m not sad she’s leaving.”

“Of course you’re not,” Phichit agrees, putting his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder. “You’re miserable she’s leaving.”

Yuuri groans, “Leo wouldn’t disagree with me like this.”

“And that,” Leo calls out, pushing the door to their room open with his left foot, “is why Leo is on hot cocoa duty.”

He glances at him, registering the black-and-yellow tray that he’s carrying, badger-shaped cups on top of it, and giggles, “Seriously? Do we really have these in Hufflefpuff?”

“Apparently, JJ paid to get them made,” Phichit whispers into his ear, tickling him and making him arch away from the boy, whining. “I think they’re adorable.”

Leo rolls his eyes. “You think everything is adorable, Phichit. You told me you thought Professor Feltsman was adorable.”

“Have you seen that soft man? He obviously loves his students to death,” Phichit clutches at his chest, leaning into Yuuri and holding his hand as if they’re shaking too much from the emotion. “It kills me, de la Iglesia.”

Leo mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “I’ll kill you, alright.” before giving them the hot cocoas, warning them not to spill anything like last time, when Phichit tried to Levitate the cups towards the bed.

Yuuri’s still sad, he knows they both know that. He doesn’t talk much, and he mostly spends the afternoon fidgeting with his bracelet and thinking about nothing in particular, focusing on controlling his heartbeat whenever it speeds up. But he can feel Phichit’s warmth next to him, can listen to Leo clumsily humming one of his viole études, and it’s just. It’s okay, as long as they’re here with him. He’ll be okay. He will.

…

“Hey, Victor,” Yuri asks, munching on some croissants the Crispino twins got earlier. “Why aren’t you with Yuuri?”

Victor flushes, pouting as he curls up on his bed, Makkacchin licking at his toes, “I’m not with Yuuri all the time.”

“Just like 99% of it,” Mila teases, stealing a chocolate croissant from the paper bag. “But whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“You two should respect your elders more,” Victor huffs. He bites his lip, “Yuuri’s sister is graduating today. I thought it was better if he stayed with his friends today.”

Yuri frowns, “But you’re his friend.”

“I’m not as close to him as Phichit and Leo are,” he shrugs, smiling weakly, “I’d just intrude. Besides,” he inches closer to where the two second years are sitting, “I wanted to spend some time with my young children.”

“Ew, Nikiforov.”

“I think you’re an idiot,” Yuri blurts out, glaring at him and petting Makkacchin with the sort of passive-aggressive affection only he can manage, “Yuuri obviously adores you, so you better go up there to be all disgusting with him.”

Victor blinks. “Ok - “

“But first,” Yuri lifts his chin up, “You’re going to teach me the ice cream Charm. I’m not leaving this castle until I can Conjure ice cream out of thin air.”

Mila falls down on the bed next to them, eyes bright, “Oh my god, that’s a thing ?”

He’s going to go see Yuuri in a few hours, Victor thinks, feeling an ache in his heart at the thought of Mari Katsuki, who’s told him every possible fact about Yuuri he could ever want (ranging from favourite colour to what plushies he likes to sleep with), leaving the school, especially since she means so  much to Yuuri.

He’s going to go see Yuuri in a few hours, Victor thinks, but he lets out a mocked-annoyed sigh, picks up his wand, and contains his laugher at the ooohing sounds from the excited two Slytherins as he conjures vanilla ice cream. He’s got plenty of people to take care of, it seems.

Chapter Text

“I am a strong, independent wizard who needs no man,” Yuuri whispers to himself, clutching his scarf close to his chest. “This is fine.”

“Yuuri?” Luke’s voice reaches him just as he’s finishing lacing up his skates, as cheerful as always. “We’re waiting for you here!”

“...Coming,” he calls back weakly, straightening himself up and turning to glance backwards. The Coaches who have hours in the mornings are on the ice, carefully guiding beginners and lecturing some more experienced skaters, all of which look half-asleep still, clinging to the barriers and groaning every few minutes of exhausting exercise.

Luke, of course, is also there; because the universe just hates Yuuri that much that it didn’t have enough making him anxious and terrified of squirrels. He’s at the short door that opens up to the ice, beaming at him, wearing his colourful pink beanie and the tightest leggings Yuuri’s ever seen (and he’s a ballet dancer). “Slide in, big boy.”

Yuuri flushes as he’s making his way towards him, wincing at the sound the blade make against the ground, even if it’s protected against them, “ Please don’t call me that, Luke.”

“Aw,” the teenager pouts, in a way  so unnecessarily dramatic that it reminds Yuuri of Phichit. “But aren’t you such a big, strong boy?”

“I’m thi- almost fourteen,” he splutters, not meeting his eyes. “And I’ve got class now, you know.”

“You were so much nicer to me at the beginning,” Luke smiles, gently moving so that they’re skating together towards where the  Coaches are. Yuuri only has morning classes like these on weekends, since he mostly uses the rink alone with Celestino during the afternoons, to practice his magic, and he’s changed his rink from last year, so he’s still a bit unfamiliar with the rest of the adults there. That means nothing when it comes to Luke, though, he practically lives here.

Yuuri met Luke last year, at the open ice rink during Christmas, and Luke told him he had talent.

“He was scared of you at the beginning,” Yuuko pipes in, happily coming to a stop in front of them. She’s the reason Yuuri changed rinks this year, to one further away from his home, which he has to Floo to. It’s close to Minako’s, though, so he makes the trip count.

“He couldn’t be,” Luke gasps, “I’m so undeniably pleasant.”

He smiles at Yuuri as he says so, taking a moment to rub his shoulders in a friendly way, the same kind of ‘big brother’ affection he loves showering Yuuri in, and his blue eyes shine.

For a moment, Yuuri can’t breathe properly.

“Come on , Yuuri,” Yuuko grabs his hand, “We have to practice together! That’s why we’re rinkmates . You can try holding me up.”

“Yuuko, that’s dangerous - “

“Gotta go, bye!”

Honestly? She’s just saved him from completely humiliating himself by trying to speak to Luke normally. It’s basically impossible.

…

Yuuri is um, he’s pretty sure he kinda, um… he kinda likes Luke.

It’s not a big deal! And it’s not like Yuuri is like, totally lusting after him or falling in love with him, either. Luke is just really handsome, and nice, and smiles a lot, and holds his hand when he trips on ice, and says his skating is good, and -

Well. Luke is um. He’s a cool guy, okay? Anyone would have a small crush on him, he’s got that special charm that makes people flock to him like birds. Mari teases him about it all the time, to his absolute horror. Whenever she comes pick him up at the ice rink she makes a show out of calling out Luke’s name, asking how Yuuri’s done, and smiling blindingly the whole way through, ecstatic.

“I hate you so much,” Yuuri groans as they exit the place, burying his face in his hands. “Why can’t you let me be ?”

“Oh, was I bothering you two?” Mari presses the back of her palm against her forehead, mock-ashamed. “I never meant to interrupt your romantic encounters. But you can’t blame me, the last time you had a crush was on that one girl who lives across the street.”

“He’s like, your age,” Yuuri whines, pushing her so that she moves quickly. He’s almost certain Luke can’t hear them, but it’s better to make sure. Just in case. “And I don’t like him!”

His sister hums noncommittally, “Yes, of course. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Yuuri.” She smirks, “Or whatever helps you at night , even if you don’t actually sleep.”

“Oh my god - I can’t believe - I am going to murder you -” His cheeks are flaming red. Did she just imply…?

Mari holds her hands up, “You’re almost fourteen, little bro, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Yuuri glares at her, hoping his blush isn’t as noticeable as he thinks, “Well, you tease like a two-year-old, so it’s an easy mistake.”

“Oi!” she punches him in the arm lightly, cackling when he yelps. “No badmouthing your sister because you get hot over an older guy!”

“Please kill me,” Yuuri begs to no one in particular.

Of course, Phichit’s reaction to the “news” (Yuuri awkwardly mumbling, “I think I have a crush on a guy at my ice rink.” during one of their nightly Skype calls, feeling like his heart’s about to burst out of his chest) is much different, and almost endearingly Phichit-like.

First, he tells Yuuri that under no circumstances is he to try to date the guy, as if .

“He is much older than you, Yuuri!” he waggles his finger threateningly on his laptop’s screen. “And a guy who hasn’t already asked you out on a date after seeing you in your ice skating glory doesn’t deserve you, anyway. Besides ,” he seems especially insistent in this part, “I think you already have some very, very dateable people around you. You don’t need this boy.”

“I’m not going to date him,” Yuuri whispers harshly, checking around to make sure his parents haven’t woken up. No sound from their bedroom. “I was just telling you because it’s been driving me mad . Now that I’ve actually told someone, I can forget him!”

“Oh, no,” Phichit smiles, “You ain’t forgetting Luke Matthews anytime soon, buddy, but well. He’s your type, isn’t he? Gorgeous blond hair, endless blue eyes, smooth pale skin, and that smile , dear lord.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen, “Phichit, how do you know what he looks like?”

“How do you think?” he raises an eyebrow. “I just followed him on Instagram, obviously.”

“ Phichit, unfollow him right now or I swear I will cut off your wifi .”

His friend winks, “We’re not in Hogwarts, my dear Yuuri.” He laughs at Yuuri’s dismayed expression of realization, and settles back in his chair, his smile widening. Phichit’s gotten a haircut recently, a nice one that makes his eyes stand out more. “How’s the summer coming along otherwise, cute boy notwithstanding?”

Yuuri bites his lower lip in thought, running his fingers through his hair, “Um. I’m getting more and more into skating, actually. I might be able to do a proper competition jump soon, other than waddling through my Salchow. Yuri’s been hinting at wanting to try my mom’s katsudon, so I’m probably gonna invite him over sometime soon.” He thinks about it, “Might invite Victor, too, while I’m at it.”

“Oh yeah, you do that.” Phichit nods, and then he lets out a small laugh, “Don’t tell him about Luke, though.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Yuuri rolls his eyes, “I’m not that stupid, you know, I’d already figured he might be jealous.”

His friend stares at him, mouth hanging open, “You had? Um, w-when?”

“Like, the first day?” Yuuri sighs. “Victor’s really nitpicky about anyone teaching me figure skating, he gets all petty every time Yuuko helps me with anything. Do you think I’d tell him about an older guy with more experience giving me lessons?”

For some reason, Phichit looks almost like he’s about to laugh again, his eyes twinkling, but he just says, giggling, “Yes, I’m pretty sure Victor would object to an experienced guy giving you private lessons, Yuuri.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing at his friend, “Honestly, you treat me like I’m so dumb. Obviously I’d realized Victor is a protective teacher.”

“Very protective teacher,” Phichit agrees, smirking suspiciously.

…

yuuri katsu cky (because you SUCK)

i dont know what u wanted me to do. like. do u want to like. poison the food or smth. i dont care tbh. im going to ur house anyway bc im invincible. so fuck u who cares tbh

nikiforov says hes going too but meh.  whatever

Yuri always writes such nice things.

Knowing that both Yuri and Victor are coming means that Yuuri spends the day before their arrival cleaning every corner of the house, meticulously making sure his parents don’t leave anything... incriminating (like the one teen Witches’ Fave Hottie: Victor Nikiforov! poster he bought because he was curious ) around, and peering over their shoulders as they cook and wrinkling his nose if they put their feet on the table.

“Seriously, you’d think you were the adult,” his mother mutters, ruffling his hair while he works on his summer homework. His parents make him see a tutor to keep him updated on muggle school work, in case he doesn’t want to work in the wizarding world. Mom still thinks that the fact that they don’t study biology at Hogwarts is a crime against humanity.

He’s still fretting, fixing his clothes, the moment he hears the doorbell ring.

The first thing that Yuuri thinks when he opens the door, smiling, calling out to his parents, “They’re here!”, and sees the two Slytherins waiting outside for him is that, no matter how much he sometimes feels like Celestino is working him to death, it’s nothing compared to Feltsman.

It’s less noticeable in Yuri, who’s grumbling, wearing respectable clothes for once (although his earrings are tiger claws, of course), because the boy still looks almost eerily like a fairy, lean and skinny in a way that suggests elegant rather than ‘awkward’. But it’s undeniable the second he glances at Victor.

Victor babbled about ‘starting to really train’ for Junior Worlds after he came clean to Yuuri regarding it, delighting him with schedules upon schedules of what he had to do this summer to get up to bar in order to compete internationally. He even confessed that he may not write as many letters, with all the stuff he had to do, apologizing profusely. So Yuuri was expecting him to gain a little muscle and all but, um. They haven’t seen each other in almost two months, and the change is just a little bit striking.

His hair’s longer, almost reaching down to his back now, but he’s got it on the side, tied up in a stylish ponytail. Apart from that, all the differences are the fact that Yuuri’s pretty sure Victor’s grown at least ten centimeters since he last saw him, which finally cements his position as ‘the short friend’, something he’s been able to avoid with Phichit, thankfully. He also just seems more filled out; his shoulders are a bit further apart, his face is slightly skinnier, and he stands with more confidence, balancing his weight like he’s making an entrance.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Victor says, smiling.

He reminds Yuuri, just slightly, of Luke.

“Your voice is deeper,” he blurts out automatically, even though it’s not that big of a change, after taking in the rest. He flushes, embarrassed, and doesn’t meet his eyes, “Oh, sorry, uh, come in, you two, we’re expecting you!”

Yuri rolls his eyes, “Always collected, Huffle.”

Yuuri pokes his nose as he goes by, laughing at his infuriated yelp, “It’s good to see you, Yuri.”

“Don’t steal any paintings,” Victor tells him cheerfully, which makes him glower so bad that Yuuri’s kind of impressed he doesn’t back down. He turns to look at Yuuri again, “How have you been?” Victor bites his lip and fidgets with his hands, glancing at him from between his eyelashes, “I’m really sorry I haven’t been able to write much recently, Yakov’s been running me down.”

“Um,” Yuuri swallows. Were his eyelashes really that long before? “Oh, um, it’s fine. You already told me about it, you know.” He smiles back at him,“It’s really good to see you, Victor. Love the hair.”

His friend flushes, “Y-yes, I thought so, too.”

For a moment, they just kind of stand there, in silence, not really knowing what to say. Yuuri wants to tell him to come in again, wants to ask how Chris and Georgi are doing, wants  to  reach out and touch him, like he always does.

Except… he doesn’t.

“Yuuri?” his mom’s voice, coming from the kitchen, interrupts his train of thought. He startles, turning back. “Don’t leave your friend at the door, it’s rude.”

“Sorry, mom,” he mumbles, chastised. “Oh, so, you have to take your shoes off, see…”

…

Yuri and Victor meeting his parents goes extraordinarily well. Yuuri was slightly worried that Victor would say something accidentally offensive (one can never be sure with purebloods. Phichit, in his search for knowledge, innocently asked Yuuri when they were 11 if muggles took showers, too.), or that Yuri would burn the house down or something (one can never be sure with Yuri Plisetsky), but they come out of it mostly unscathed.

“So, Victor,” his mom sets down her fork and looks at his friend, smiling. “Yuuri has been telling us about you since forever. It would be truly nice to see you figure skate.”

Victor preens, leaning back in his chair before answering, turning on the ‘pureblood charm’. It’s a term that Leo and Yuuri made up after spending so much of their time around old, rich purebloods: however ridiculously awkward they may seem around their friends, regardless of their gross quirks and hand gestures, they turn into something like wizarding debutantes in the presence of any respectable adult, channeling thousands of gala nights into perfect table manners, unbelievable skilled public speaking and just the right amount of compliments.

Yuuri thinks it’s kind of silly, but undeniably useful for some situations. Leo calls it “Phichit trying not to seem Phichit”. Yuri has another name for it: “pretentious pampering”.

“Well, Mrs. Katsuki,” Victor closes his eyes briefly, beaming at her, “I’m sure that Yuuri has exaggerated my abilities. You see, he’s a very biased friend, although I do appreciate it.”

His mom smiles, “Oh, you’re so well-spoken, what a treasure.”

Yuri, who’s said a total of 10 words during the duration of the meal and is currently shoving katsudon into his mouth as quickly as possible, snorts.

After lunch, when they’re helping clean up the kitchen, Yuuri moves next to Victor, murmuring, “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

His friend cocks his head at him, furrowing his brow in confusion, “Do what?”

“Go all ‘look at me, I’m respectable’ on my parents,” Yuuri shrugs. “They don’t care, really. Phichit never goes pureblood mode on them. And, um,” he flushes, scratching the back of his neck, “They’re going to like you anyway, with all the stuff I’ve told them about you. I’m pretty sure my parents are convinced that you and Phichit save me from hordes of bullies every minute I’m in school.”

“I would,” Victor says immediately, as if on reflex, and then freezes, “I mean, we would.” He licks his lips, glancing downwards, “I didn’t mean to um, go ‘pureblood mode’, or whatever.”

“I’m used to it,” he smiles. He steps a little bit closer, mindful that no one hears them, just enough that their feet are almost touching in the narrow kitchen. It’s a little harder to breathe. “But you can be yourself with me, okay?”

Victor’s eyes flutter shut, before he whispers, quiet, “You’re an evil, evil guy, Yuuri Katsuki.”

…

Victor has to leave early (something about the amount of hours he has to sleep while on ‘Yakov’s training regime from hell’), but Yuri’s allowed to stay a little longer. Mari pats him for a while and challenges him to a selfie match of death (the theme is ‘who can balance more things on their nose while taking a selfie at the same time’, and it ends with them breaking five ceramic bowls and Yuri’s shoe on Mari’s face), and after a while both Yuri and Yuuri go upstairs, letting the adults watch a film. Something about a stone, a three-headed dog and a giant chess game. Honestly, Warners Bros are running out of ideas.

“Katsuki,” Yuri begins, flopping down on his bed and narrowing his eyes at him. “If you even think trying to make me play a board game, I’ll murder you.”

From where he’s kneeling down next to his bookshelf, Yuuri quickly lets go of the Monopoly box, “O-of course I wouldn’t do that, haha.”

Yuri huffs, stretching out on the bed like a cat and sighing, “I should have just gone home. You’re a mess, like always.”