221B

Ben wanted to be petulant and reply that Baldric should worry about Bentley keeping his things – because it was almost entirely likely that the darker haired man would try to do so. He also wanted to say that Baldric shouldn’t love him after everything, but that meant giving up one of the few people who did seem to feel something real and true for him. So he clutched at Baldric’s shoulders instead, feeling childish as he attempted to draw in gulps of air to keep himself from just breaking down. He half expected himself to start crying, but Ben wasn’t sure if it was from relief or just delayed shock.

Instead of trying to find the right words to answer, Ben just blinked at his Gryffindor for a moment before nodding. He wanted to offer a smile or some sign of good will, but he couldn’t quite bring the muscles in his face to do as he asked. When Baldric moved away, Ben wanted to offer his assistance. Rather than doing so, however, he pushed himself up onto a counter where he supposed he would be out of the way, and just observed until he was expected to transition over to the table.

It was strange, somehow, to be eating a civilized meal at a table, even though Ben had only really been gone a few days. It of course felt like much longer, though, in hindsight. He couldn’t actually take in the entirety of what had been offered to him, from going so long without any real meals. But he did attempt to do so, continually glancing over at Baldric for some social cue that said it was okay to be torn up, still.

“No, please, I-“ Ben faltered, sitting up straighter at Baldric’s suggestion of leaving. His jaw clenched for a moment, and he looked down at his plate. When his ex-roommate finished speaking, Ben decided that he needed to try again. “I didn’t mean it earlier. When I… well, when I acted like I wanted to be alone. I’ve been alone for too long, now.

“If you’ve got to… if you need to go or something, I can just…” Ben shook his head, wanting to say that he would talk to his parents about it, but what could he say without explaining everything? He would have to sit there and show them the graphite-colored marks that now were imprinted on his ribcage and arm.

Really, the jacket Ben had donned wasn’t singularly to help the cold. He realized belatedly that he naturally found ways to cover his arm. Now he would be certain to watch what he wore – especially considering his side, too. Where he had felt entirely calm and at ease around Baldric before, Bentley couldn’t imagine walking around in just trousers as he got ready for the day. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it was going to take him a lot longer to get dressed, whether that was for work or bed or anything else. Because he was going to be insanely distracted by the new numbers and images etched in his skin. Even if no one was at the house – not Rose or anyone else – Ben had the terrible feeling that he was about to become far more private. More unlikely to feel comfortable in his own skin.

But mostly, Ben could already feel himself wanting someone to prove him wrong.

“I’ve only got one place to be,” Baldric filled in for Ben, a smile twitching at the sides of his lips. “And that’s here, with you, eating chocolate fudge brownies.” His smile grew on his lips and he looked down, feeling a little shy of all things as he stabbed at his broccoli. It all felt strangely, weirdly domestic. He’d never cooked as angrily as he had done but now all of it has spread out and away from his body to mingle in the warmth of the air. He couldn’t look upon Ben with anything other than love. There were things they needed to work through, of course, and they both knew that but there was always the overriding need to love him. It trumped everything: the anger, the hurt, the dismay – all of it paled in comparison because he had his priorities in order. It was all about making Ben feel safe, at home, and loved. That was what mattered. Above everything, that was what mattered.

Putting down his fork, Baldric reached out and curled his fingers around Ben’s wrist. His fingertips rubbed into the elder man’s skin and he sighed softly, contentedly, mutedly overjoyed to have him home. He wasn’t jumping from the hilltops, of course, because it wasn’t that sort of feeling but he was happy. There was just so much else going on. It made him feel as though the happiness wouldn’t come at all in its purest form and the pair of them would be in a crude limbo. Yet, Baldric was desperate to make it work between them. He didn’t want to be unsettled. He didn’t want to lose Ben. As much as he’d found a place amongst friends and amongst a family of sorts, if he could be so bold as to refer to the Hayes’ as that, none of them were Ben. Ben who had brought him home. Ben who had loved him. Ben who he loved. They weren’t him. They weren’t enough.

In truth, Baldric didn’t think he cared about what Rose had to say about the arrangements anymore. There were higher things at work and though he still hated her things around the flat and wanted so very much to turn her and her junk out, he understood what that would result in. What was more important than that was making sure Ben was okay. He wasn’t, of course. Baldric was not so dense to not notice. He didn’t need to see it, either. He could feel it in the elder man’s skin, sense it in his very fabric, even. He could almost hear the disquiet. So he was staying. She would be no obstacle to him. He knew he’d move mountains for Ben in that moment. Nothing in the world would keep him from looking after his lover.

“I think bed,” he broached, “might be a worthwhile endeavour soon, eh?” He smoothed his fingers across the patch of skin upon Ben’s wrist that he’d acquired and considered what they could do. “There are still films in that bag,” he pointed out thoughtfully. “If you don’t want to sleep but want to just relax that could be an idea, maybe,” he nodded after a moment and retracted his hand to take up his fork once more, bringing a mouthful of mashed potato to his mouth. He set down his fork again after he swallowed and rose from the chair, stepping around the table to check on the brownies. They were nearly done, he found, and so he turned the tray around quickly before returning to the table.

He eyed Ben for a moment, his gaze crossing the frame of the man before him, and a slow smirk spread out across Baldric’s mouth. He picked up his fork and returned to his meal for a few mouthfuls before verbalising his thoughts to Ben, just in case the elder man had been wondering what the, let’s face it, funny expression had been all about. Baldric glanced up, bit briefly on the handle of the fork, and considered Ben again before actually speaking.

“I like you in my jumper,” he announced softly. “I like you here … like this.” He ducked his head somewhat embarrassedly and poked at the mashed potatoes. “I just,” he went on awkwardly. “It feels normal again almost. I didn’t realise just how much I missed this place, doing things like this, with you in it and around me. I mean, I knew I did but I didn’t realise the extent to which I did. There’s purpose at the Hayes’, of course, but it’s not … it’s not the same,” he shook his head, knowing full well he was babbling and he cleared his throat into his palm before returning to the meal, deciding to clarify what he really meant. “I love you, Ben. I need you in my life. In my jumper. In this kitchen. In this house. I just … this is home. You’re home, to me. And I didn’t realise how lost I was until I … until I came home.”

“Sorry,” he apologised, lowering his eyes. “This is heavy… there’s no need for that burden of conversation I’m… I’m shutting up now.”

Ben nearly flinched at Baldric's reach, half expecting his lover to push back his sleeve to see the mark again. But it was safe, he found, and the chagrined smile that had grown on his face only fell for an instant before it lifted again, seemingly determined to stay put. The arm that Baldric hadn't grasped felt cold somehow, despite the sleeves that were meant to warm him. "I think," he replied carefully, "that some normal would be nice. Even better if it's you that's given it back to me."

It sounded ridiculous after the words left him, but Ben didn't have it in him to feel strange about them. He missed their banter, but it didn't feel like the time. Endearments and the like would have to do. He hoped they were enough, that is. But at Baldric's look, he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, unsure what joke he had missed. It wasn't a joke, though, and he was surprised to find himself staring, if not actually turning a bit red at the sentiments expressed by his lover. For, really, there was no need for the pair of them to be ex-anythings, provided they did their leaping and bounding to get back to normal.

"Don't do that," Bentley entreated. "Don't say something like that and then take it away or diminish it. No one has ever -... No one's ever felt that way about me - or they've claimed to and not meant it. Bae, I need you to mean it, because if you don't, nobody will. I'm already going to be trapped here after what happened. People won't just forgive what I've done. I know that - I'm not naive enough to think that they'll think it was my father's fault instead.

"That's not to say I don't believe you. I have to, or I'll just continue to feel like I've fallen off the edge of the earth. I just... needed to say it out loud."

Ben blinked a few times, set his silverware down, and started gathering his dishes to pick them up and carry them across the kitchen to the sink. "I, um.. I need to write something to my folks. Maybe then they'll be done," he offered, gesturing with the wave of a hand towards the oven. Even though he had announced his intended activity, Ben hesitated, not quite wanting to have to tell them the truth right away. Finally, he let out a slightly frustrated huff. "Actually, I don't think I have the words for it tonight."

Instead, he made his way over to stand next to Baldric's chair, approaching like he was afraid he might get bitten by an angry animal. "I'm still sorry, Bae. I'm always going to be, but it's mostly because I know it was you who I betrayed more than even myself or my parents." His hand reached out impulsively, and he took up Baldric's as he sank into a nearly-awkward crouch next to Baldric's chair. He was the lower of the pair of them, and it only felt fitting, somehow, that he changed to hover slightly below eye-level. "You didn't have to do any of this, you know. Nobody else could ever mean half as much as you do, and you really shouldn't have jumped into forgiving me. Um, that is..." Ben faltered, realizing he had jumped to conclusions, "I don't want to assume. I just, I adore you, Bae. And I don't deserve any of this."

Outside the birds twinkled in the crisp, autumnal air. Cars blared past, bleating their horns at each other. Buses huffed and snorted despairingly at the traffic. People shuffled along the pavement huddled in their winter coats having been donned since the temperature drop earlier in the week. It was all so wonderfully normal and, certainly, natural and to be expected for the time of year. Everything about the street upon which they lived was familiar. Members of the women’s institute could be found in the sitting room two doors down planning how to decorate the street for Christmas. Downstairs, Mrs Hudson was probably just getting in having gone shopping for dinner that night. Upstairs, in the kitchen, there they sat. Normal. Together again.

Baldric looked up from his meal, peaking at Ben out from underneath his lashes. A smile toyed at his mouth and he shrugged his shoulder a little, his cheeks reddening. He lifted his head properly and reached out again, catching hold of Ben’s fingers. He lifted the elder man’s hand and drew his arm across the table, bringing Ben’s knuckles to his mouth. His mouth lingered over his lover’s skin and he looked up, his eyes having darkened perceptibly with what in a different setting would have been lust but in that light it was all of the passion - all of the love - that Baldric felt for Bentley. It was all there, burning his blue eyes to dark, smouldering onyx.

“I mean it,” he swore softly, his lips whispering against Ben’s skin. “I’ll always mean it,” he promised. “This is home to me, now. You are home to me, now. I want to wake up with you every morning. I want to kiss you as you run out the door, late for work because I distracted you in the shower. I want us to be us again,” he twiddled his fingers in Ben’s, touching their fingertips together. “I need you. I’ll always need you, Ben, because I love you. I really, really love you.”

Baldric pressed his lips briefly back to Ben’s knuckles once more before letting him go, watching carefully as the elder man took his dishes to the sink. It made Baldric take a few hastier, quicker bites, wanting to catch up with his lover. He smiled as Ben returned, a sad, small smile that slid away when Ben approached gently, as though fearful of what Baldric as going to say. Abandoning his cutlery, Baldric turned to face his lover and frowned up at him, reaching out for Ben’s hand again. His lips twitched when Ben seized it and Baldric’s gaze slipped to his lover’s face, another frown creasing between his brows.

“Baby,” he sighed, pushing himself out of his chair. Baldric squatted down, pulling up his hands to Ben’s cheeks and he stared into the elder man’s eyes intensely, deliberately having brought himself level with his man, knowing he needed the reassurance. “Listen to me,” he drew his fingers fondly across Ben’s cheeks. “I am angry with you. Hurt. I am. I am not going to lie to you because I am. The thing is, though, is there are more important things to be than just angry. I chose to forgive you because I love you and because that’s what you do for those you love. If you love someone, you forgive them everything. All I ask is that you do not do this to me or to your parents again. We are your family and I know, I understand, why you did what you did but please … please try and put stock and put roots in this family, please. Because it will kill me if I have to see you in that place again, let alone what it will do to your parents. I’ll write to them if you like. But please, think about this. We love you so much. You are their son. You are mine. You are my everything. We need you.”

“You deserve forgiveness,” Baldric said softly. “Everyone does. That’s why you are given it. All I want you to remember is that you have an identity. You do. You’re part of this family. I’ve inserted myself here a bit but what I want you to believe is that you have a place, you have a home and you will always have people who will love you unconditionally. I am one of them. So I will always be in your corner. Okay? I love you. I love you so much. So don’t be sorry. I’ve forgiven you. I did have to do this but it was not obligation it was because I love you and because I want to be with you always if I can. I want to do anything and everything to make sure that happens. The first step right now is to forgive you, the second to look after you. I’m doing both. I love you. I will always love you. Believe it. I’ve forgiven you.”

Baldric’s thumb rubbed past Ben’s eye and he leaned in, pressing his lips experimentally back against his lover’s. A sigh of happiness broke through and Baldric’s hands slid down to grasp at Ben’s hips, insisting that as best he could manage, the man had to come closer. And stay. He had to stay forever.

"Yours," Ben promised quietly, barely able to stick the word in before Baldric continued, more or less staring at the blond after he had moved down to match Ben's new height. Once Baldric leaned in to meet him, it took only a little inhale of breath through Ben's nose for him to lift his hands, wrapping his fingers around Baldric's upper arms.

An almost pathetic whine escaped at the feeling of his too-forgiving Gryffindor's hands at his waist. Even through the jacket, he could feel the warmth spreading. It might have been imagined, but Ben hardly cared. Instead, he shifted his weight forward, settling down onto his knees to keep his balance. Fingers gliding up into Baldric's hair, he determined to focus on the feeling of it rather than the incident that led to their talk and then to their being reunited. Sure, he was reveling in Baldric's return, but he was happy to just focus on the return instead of the hurt.

Baldric was breathing air right into Ben's lungs, and it was astounding how much he missed the dizzy feeling it created. His cheeks probably had more color in them than they had in over a week, and it wasn't a minute before the jacket was too much, suffocating him. Pulling away, Ben's shoulders lifted with the effort of drawing in enough oxygen to feel like he could get the right words out.

"I don't think I can stop feeling sorry, but god I love you. I won't do anything like that again, Bae. Honest. I need you far too much to do that to you. Or my parents. I won't."

It took an inordinate amount of time to lean back, his nose brushing against Baldric's before he managed it. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have bothered with the words. They hadn't always needed them in the past,  but he had wanted to throw his jacket across the room without thinking, and that couldn't happen. Not when he had a tee underneath that wouldn't cover one of the two marks etched into his skin. Forgiven or not, even Ben himself couldn't look at them. They would just ruin everything, and he wasn't sure enough of himself to go along and hope it didn't make Baldric falter.

He wasn't brave enough.

There was no lust in Baldric’s kisses. As his lips pulled and twisted at Ben’s, soldering over his lover’s in a soft embrace of mouths, he did not feel the ebbing fire licking up through him. He found himself drawing Ben closer as he fell upon his own knees and his hands lifted up underneath his lover’s jumper, in turn beneath the t-shirt before beginning to draw gently over his lower back. It was thorough, the way Baldric kissed Ben in those moments. He made sure every inch of his mouth was covered, loved and let go of before being covered, loved and let go of again. When one hand lifted out from under Ben’s clothes it felt for his cheek and Baldric pulled him closer, tighter to him, uttering quiet declarations of love with every breath he took.

Finally, when Baldric pulled away, it was with a dreamy look on his face that he beheld his lover, his thumb moving back and forth across Ben’s cheekbone. Baldric leaned in again and nudged their noses together before looking around, a low chuckle emerging from between his lips. He smiled, kissing his lover chastely before endeavouring to get to his feet, his bones clicking and complaining ruefully at the suggestion of his doing so. Once he was up, he took hold of Ben’s hands and helped him to his feet, also, bringing him into his chest once they were both stood.

Baldric eagerly abused the slight height that he had had on his lover and pressed his kiss to the elder man’s temple, lingering there before pulling away, trailing his arms down to loop about Ben’s waist. Baldric squeezed him and smiled brightly before nudging his nose against Ben’s again, content to show him silently how much he loved him. The oven, however, disturbed them and Baldric turned, looking over his shoulder to glare at the piece of kitchen equipment before reluctantly unwinding his arms from around Ben.

“I’m coming oven,” Baldric exclaimed at the beeping thing, his voice absently slipping into a thicker Scottish brogue. “Alright?” He exclaimed at it, turning off the fan. “I’m here. Okay? Do you have something for me?” Baldric opened the oven and gasped mockingly, grinning at it. “Food! You made me food! You wonderful oven,” he patted it patronisingly and reached for a tea-towel with which to take out the tray. He set it on the chopping board and closed the oven with his foot before going back into his baking cupboard to retrieve a cooling rack to put the brownies on.

“Brownies, brownies, brownies,” Baldric sang happily, taking out a sharp knife from the block. Carefully he dug the knife into the mound of chocolate, cutting them into little rectangles and then, when he was done, Baldric turned over the tray onto the cooling rack. He then lifted the tray off and found the brownies had all come out onto the tray much to his delight. Abandoning the tray into the bowl he took a net tent out from the cupboard and put it over the brownies so they didn’t get assaulted by any passing insects or Bendric. He smiled then and turned back to his lover, reaching out for Ben’s hands.

“D’you want to eat these later?” He asked softly, lowering his lips to Ben’s neck. “We can have a midnight snack,” he chuckled a little and brought a hand up to rub his fingers through Ben’s hair. “Can I interest you in a movie?” He asked gently. “And then you can let me melt the chocolate and get some marshmallows and it can be an indulgence, eh?”

It didn't matter how badly he had missed Baldric being near to him; Ben still shrank away from the hands that delved beneath his layers and passed over the skin they found there. His hips pulled back, and Ben nearly lost his balance because he was trying to pull away far enough that Baldric would retract his hands. In the end, he only seemed to succeed in bringing their embrace to an end. Well, until they stood and Baldric drew him in again. Ben half expected him to try and do it again, but he was spared from having to decide if he needed Baldric closer more than he needed to relearn how to feel comfortable with himself before he could properly accept that sort of attention.

Guilt hit him a bit late, so Ben accepted the gestures and the touches that were in what Ben would end up mentally calling his safe zone. It felt wrong to consider it that, but he couldn't find a better way to phrase it. Especially when he had nearly convinced himself to try and express it to Baldric, but the oven had decided not to let him. It was painfully clear to Ben, as he leaned back against the rim of the table, that his lover had succeeded spectacularly in his illaqueation. The typically wranglesome businessman was so consumed by his need to prove his determination and devotion to his man that he was able to lose his steel exterior for a while, managing a laugh at Baldric's antics.

If he were being honest - with himself, or indeed with Baldric - Ben would have noted that he was actually exhausted. But he instead found that he had no desire to nod off - surrounded by, or burrowed into, his Gryffindor or not. In truth, he was tempted to mutter those oh-so-important syllables over and over, until they took on their own new meaning, or stopped sounding like real words. His entire form seemed to lift with the breath he drew in as Baldric's lips found his skin again, but it was from his trying to draw the feeling inside of him, where he could keep hold of it and refuse it any inclination to leave. He hummed his approval of Baldric's suggestions, eyes having closed of their own accord before Ben could notice.

It was almost curious, Ben mused, that Baldric's kisses seemed to be more about abating the ill feeling that had worked its way into Bentley's bones during his time in Azkaban, rather than what they so often were meant for. He wasn't complaining, though, considering everything that had happened between them lately. Perhaps if Ben hadn't made the mistake of going back to his father, hadn't made the poor decision of going against what he knew his lover would have preferred. Their cautiousness had been his fault, and now the steps to getting back to where they were before? Those would be up to Ben as well, provided he couldn't bring himself to get past his involuntary tattoos. Eventually, of course, he would simply become used to them.  But he didn't want to see Baldric's face each time he laid eyes on them. They were like scars, now, in the sense that they both represented the most ridiculous and unintelligent judgement he had ever made.

"That would be great," he finally vocalized, stepping back so they had enough space between the pair of them that Ben could reach out and pick up Baldric's hands properly. He turned over his shoulder, flipping his hands palm up so he could tug Baldric's arms around his middle from behind as he led them towards the bedroom. Kicking the door open enough for them to shuffle through, Ben ticked the back of Baldric's hands, then lifted one of them so he could kiss the inside of his wrist before releasing him.

"You pick," he requested gently, sitting on his bed for the first time in days. It almost felt too soft for a moment, but Ben had no reason to complain. Instead, he scooted back to sit against the pillows and the headboard, shooting Baldric a fairly content little smile.

It was funny, really. It you sit back and look at it – I mean really look – it was all quite funny. A week, or rather a few days, separated out an argument and a reconciliation of sorts. Now, Baldric considered as he put down the utensils and allowed his arms to be wound around Ben’s middle by the man himself, they were friends again. Together again. Lovers again. Baldric lowered his head to Ben’s neck and snuggled in tighter, following labouredly, determined to keep close to his man now that they were together again. Truly he didn’t care about the movie but it was a way of keeping Ben in the land of the living long enough for Bae to ascertain he wasn’t going anywhere. Only then would the younger man allow the elder to commit to sleep and then he himself do so, also.

Once the threshold of the bedroom was breached, Baldric pressed his lips to his lover’s neck and unwound his arms, standing back to close the door behind himself. He smirked as Ben draped himself over the bed and Baldric shook his head, reaching behind his head to tug off his t-shirt. A smack of the shirt hitting the wall preceded its tumble into the wash basket underneath and as he fumbled his fingers amongst his belt buckle and the stretch of leather he perused the DVD shelf, looking for something vaguely interesting to serve as background noise. He still wanted to talk a little bit. He wasn’t quite sure what about yet but as he opened his belt and popped open the jeans, dropping them to the floor before scooping them and his socks up.

Baldric continued to shuffle around the room, sorting himself out for bed. In the midst of running his fingers through his hair and taking off his glasses, chucking them onto his bedside table, he picked out a film, set it going and then once there was nothing left to do he made his way onto the bed. Yawning, Baldric flopped onto his back beside his lover and turned his head to smell the pillows, his heart rising happily as he registered within himself that yes, indeed, he was home. Smiling, Baldric turned in and threw his arm over Ben’s middle as he snuggled his face into the elder man’s neck, continuing to breathe in deeply the array of scents fluttering around him.

“Iron Man will do, won’t it?” He mumbled. “I picked randomly. I dunno. I doubt we’ll watch much.” As if on cue a yawn broke through and Baldric snuggled in more, his feet scraping at the duvet on his side, bringing it down so in an odd move that was strangely graceful he wriggled underneath and drew the covers up to his neck. He kissed Ben’s neck and turned onto his back again, bringing his arms under the covers before sitting up a little – or at least enough to see the screen.

“I got a job, by the way,” Baldric broached idly. “Hogwarts appear to think I’m qualified for History of Magic so that’s what’s happening.” He smiled a little and drew up one leg, bending it under the covers. “It’ll be helpful with the degree and stuff ‘cause it’s through the uni but yeah … for what they’re doing I can teach so I guess …” Baldric smirked a bit before waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You get to call me Professor Wood.”

Ben blinked a few times as Baldric moved about the room, at first seeming like he might have intended to initiate something. But he figured it out fairly quickly, relaxing into the pillows that rested against the headboard. Indeed, he didn't mind the choice of film, but he also didn't shed the layers that he usually would have. It was comforting, even more than just wearing Baldric's clothes and having that feeling and smell around him. "It's perfect," he replied, turning his chin to drop a kiss on Baldric's forehead before the blonde rolled onto his back.

Eyebrows lifted in amusement, a slow smirk inching its way onto his face, even though Baldric seemed vaguely invested in the film and perhaps wouldn't see it. In truth, the fact that it was showing up at all, the smirk, was rather incredible. It felt out of place, but somehow it really didn't at the same time. Baldric was there, and they were normal aside from Bentley's newfound uncertainty in himself. For the most part, though, they were the same as they had been before. They were together, even though they weren't. Even though they technically shouldn't have been. "Looks like I'll have an excuse to drop by Hogwarts, then. Provided Keiran doesn't try to murder me when I walk through the door."

---

"Bloody cat!"

The shout went up one cold Monday morning, at the beginning of November. The one that marked a year and one month to the day since the decision to institute the Marriage Law in the Wizarding World. Ben hadn't received the news, though. Not until Draco the cat had found his way into Bentley's bed, and dropped the morning prophet directly onto the man's face. As he sat up, exclaiming the above, the paper had fallen into his lap and Draco-cat had bounded down to burrow in the covers at Ben's feet. Sending the fluffball a look that was more amusement than reprimand - though he really did try hard to cover the first part, Ben shook his head before glancing down.

He almost didn't bother reading over the front page article, considering he was so completely taken aback by the first headline there, staring him in the face. But when he finally blinked and shook off some of the sleep, a hand extended to the cat even though he didn't tear his eyes from the page, silently thanking the little monster for bringing it to his attention. Draco-cat popped up, scuffling across the slick surface of the sheets with a bit of effort until he reached Ben's hand, swatting at it. The cat was nothing at all like his namesake, but Bentley chalked that up to his and Baldric's attentiveness. As much as Ben claimed to dislike the cat, he clearly couldn't.

By the time his eyes reached the last line of the article, Ben was already standing and picking up Draco-cat in his free hand. The door was kicked gently to push it all the more ajar, his voice once again filling the apartment. "RED! Grab your things. It's over!"

Dropping the paper in front of her, Ben didn't even wait to see if she did as he told her to, setting the cat down on the counter next to the paper. Draco padded along after Ben as he left the room, not having grown used to Rose just yet. And just as well, Ben supposed, considering she was essentially being shoo'd from the flat, now. It only took a few minutes for Ben to dress in something that would look appropriate for wandering about the school in search of Baldric. A glance at the time, though, pointed out that the professor would be in class. Deciding he didn't care a whit about whether or not the students got a full hour in - after all, why would they mind getting interrupted? - Ben made his way to the floo.

The most brilliant idea that he had ever had was suggesting they attach the home floo to Baldric's office, just as it was attached to the first floor of Ben's building for work. So it was down to the first floor that he went, trying desperately to remember where the classroom was. When he finally reached it, Ben knocked twice, quickly, before opening the door and peering in. Yes, it was the right one. Because there was his lover - someone he intended to make properly his, giving the day's lecture.

A brilliant grin broke over his face, splitting his cheeks as Ben entered without premise, walking straight up to Baldric. "Right," he started as the class quieted, staring at him with confused expressions. Deciding to address the lot of them, Ben leaned back against the desk and folded his arms in front of his chest. "For those of you who haven't heard, the Ministry repealed a particularly heinous law this morning, so I need to borrow your professor for a few minutes. Just, um.. chat or something."

Ignoring the look that one of the Slytherins sent his way, Ben reached out, took hold of some fabric at the front of Baldric's robes, and directed him out into the hallway. The door closed on its own behind them, and Ben checked up and down the hallway before advancing on Baldric until he was backed against the wall. "It's done, love." Ben explained, his lips finding the blond's pulse point between words. "Red's leaving. It's done."

Half falling down the stairs, one leg in his trousers, the other not and as a result revealing his Quidditch-themed boxers to a smirking sixth year, Baldric Wood did not have the happiest start to his week. He’d woken up late after a few too many tumblers of whisky the night before while marking his essays. He’d gloated quietly to himself that the students were doing far better than they ever had done under Binns and armed with them in his satchel that morning he wanted to go around each one to make sure they knew exactly what they needed to do, particularly for the coursework, in order for them all to get full marks. He wanted to completely overhaul the way the department was treated in Hogwarts. With stunning results, his subject couldn’t be ignored and neither could his students. He didn’t ever think he was going to live down the incident on the stairs, though. Finally when he did get his trousers zipped up and belted properly, though, he did manage to enter his classroom late but composedly.

He thanked his lucky stars that his students were still between mouthfuls of bacon sandwiches and toast and he was overjoyed to find that a sandwich had been wrapped up in a napkin and left on the desk for him. One of his better students, a young woman who had a knack for figuring out the particulars of people, smirked at him openly and Baldric mouthed ‘thanks’ at her,  grabbing up the sandwich with a relieved look just as his stomach rumbled. Dropping his bag down onto his chair he took his wand from his pocket – thankfully these were his own trousers – and levitated the essays out of his bag, sending them to each recipient, wincing a little at the kaleidoscopic myriad of scratchy writing that covered every single one. He had a habit of being quite verbose on the essays and they knew it. Thankfully they didn’t seem to mind, however, and each one of his students learned from it – and even appreciated the little doodles sometimes.

“Okay, so… I’m going to eat this,” he held up the sandwich with a grateful yet embarrassed smile, knowing that they expected it of him now and it was part of the reason one of the boys in the back was already reading through his essay whilst chomping through his scrambled eggs too. It was okay this first lesson and to a certain degree Baldric didn’t mind food about so long as he could have a chip or a handful of sweets here and there. He shared just as much as they did, too. There would rarely be a Friday or a double lesson that didn’t pass without Baldric brandishing some sort of tasty treat he’d made the night before. You could accuse him of trying a bit hard but, really, he wanted to enjoy the lessons and he wanted them to do so, also. He also didn’t want to baby them. They were nearly adults, after all, and could act responsibly given the right environment. He felt he provided that, too. So it worked well.

Once the essays were dealt with and Baldric sponged off as best he could the inevitable splash of ketchup down his front which really just resulted in him fishing his tie out of his bottom drawer to cover it up, he began to move around the class, asking after everyone’s weekends and making sure that all understood what he wanted and what they personally needed to do in order to sort out their essay skills for the top, top marks. It was then that he was actually able to actually start his lesson which he’d had trouble planning, if he was to be honest with himself. He’d never found the Goblin rebellions particularly interesting – at least not in terms of the syllabus that he was given. Giving it a bit of flare had required a little bit of bouncing of ideas off of his co-workers but eventually he got to the bottom of it and started his intro, bizarrely beginning by standing atop one of the desks in order to illustrate the ridiculous size difference between Goblin and man and really emphasise how, despite obvious disadvantage, they still rebelled.

He was well into the throes of his lesson with scribbles all over the board and his arms having been thrown all over the place they were aching by the time two knocks sounded on the wood of the door and he stumbled, losing his concentration. Looking up, reaching to push his glasses up his nose, Baldric frowned a little at the door. His expression softened into one of utter befuddlement, though, when a dark head of hair popped around the door and he found himself staring at his lover who walked into the classroom as though it was the most natural and acceptable thing in the entire world. Dumbfounded, Baldric could only do but stare at Ben. He half wanted to prod at him, just to make sure he wasn’t in bed dreaming still. That said, his dreams about Ben weren’t usually that tame so even in that moment he conceded it was probably real.

Baldric opened his mouth to protest, embarrassed and confused by the entirety of what was going on, but before he could even so much as muster a reply to his lover he found himself out in the hallway and flush up against the wall, his heart hammering in his chest. Baldric gasped out when he felt his lover’s lips attach to his neck and his hands flew to Ben’s body, his hasty fingers pulling the man’s shirt from his trousers so he could touch at the soft skin of Ben’s lower back and really feel that connection. He let his eyes slide shut and his breath took on that ragged turn that both were probably so very used to by then. Composure was long gone now.

The words, once they finally met his musty brain and attached to something tangible, made sense. Baldric moved out of the cloud of lust and turned, essentially flipping them over, so Ben was the one pressed against the wall, Baldric bringing one of his legs between the other man’s. His blue eyes seized at the other pair staring back at him and his eyebrows quirked up expressively in surprise. It was over. It was done. It was over. It was done. The law. They’d repealed it.

Baldric grabbed Ben’s face and crushed their lips together, with all of his might pouring into the other man just how much he loved him and how much it meant not only for them but on a smaller, more personal scale, how much it meant to him with Ben coming to tell him himself. Baldric broke away abruptly and kissed Ben again, once, twice, and again, before pressing his lips to first the elder man’s forehead then his nose, his cheeks, and his chin.

“I love you,” he uttered his first words to the man. “I love you,” he repeated, marvelling at the fact he could say it aloud and no one could drag him off and tell him he couldn’t, that he had to get busy making babies instead with a person he didn’t love. He could love Ben. He could. He could love Ben openly with every fibre of his being and every fibre after. No one could stop them. They could actually, truly, do it.

“Does this … Merlin … what does this mean? Can we … can we make a home for real? Can we … Ben…” Baldric kissed him again, unable to stop himself. There was novelty to it. Reality to it. It wasn’t impermanent. They could be together for as long as they wanted. They could be together always. It was their choice now. No one could take that away from them.