Work Text:
A pair of men sit at a handhewn table placed in the middle of a handhewn kitchen in a fairytale looking house, eating a light meal of honey and black bread accompanied by shots of vodka. Talk revolves around work and family, the two things most important to either man. The past rarely gets a look in, the here and now is too full and involving. Their wands, however, sit beside their right hands, the way mobile phones do with muggles. Russian wilderness - one never knows what will shamble out of the woods or off an ice floe. One never knows what might attempt to apparate in when one man is a well-known auror and the other an A-list celeb.
Musical voices approach the kitchen door, feet hurriedly slapping wooden steps. Dark haired boys and girls enjoying the Siberian summer and the ample opportunities for fun down at the lake. The crowd out there aren't cousins though their fathers consider themselves to be brothers, and just as well, because romance is in the heady air, audible in the giggles and the attempts at cool one-liners.
“I hope you're saving some of that quidditch money in a special section of your vault, Vitya. Even cheap weddings aren't cheap.” says Yuri, after slathering honey on a piece of bread half the size of his friend's humongous slice.
Viktor laughs, and punches his companion in the arm. “You're richer than me, you scum.”
“And I stay that way by making other people pay for things. It's been thirty years. Learn at the feet of the master already.”
The kitchen door opens and a couple teenage girls dance in, arm in arm, the one pale, the other more tanned. After exchanging one last look with the boys they fancy, who remain outside for now, the pair skip over to their respective fathers, greeting them with a kiss each before grabbing the drinks they came to collect.
“Actually, I think we're pretty much even, Yura.” smiles Viktor, clashing glasses with his lifelong friend in the most satisfying toast that can be made.