221B

Catching Baldric's surprised expression as he was pressed up against the wall in turn made Ben want to chuckle. "Don't look so shocked," he jested, a smirk that could nearly be termed 'devilish' stretching across his face. "You should see me at work." Commanding a room was what he had grown to be comfortable with. Ben would've been surprised if his Gryffindor hadn't expected as much.

His Gryffindor. His. That was definitely not going to get old.

Anything else he would have said was negated as Baldric's lips found his. Ben's fingers wrapped themselves around the belt loops of his lover's trousers, needing the anchor and the leverage. It wasn't intended as a way to cant his hips against the professor, but it couldn't be helped, apparently. "I love you, too," Ben breathed, his words practically covering up the ones that Baldric repeated.

Nearly laughing at the younger man's enthusiasm, Bentley couldn't claim any measure of being surprised. Baldric had always been the more openly emotional of the two of them, but today it could be forgiven that Ben was nearly equally excited. That is, he felt the same even if he didn't show it as actively, usually. But he returned the kisses with equal verve, the smile on his face refusing to fall.

"We have to," he filled in quickly. "I won't see you taken from me again."

Ben's forehead furrowed gently as an expression of determination and concentration took over. "You're mine. And we'll have our Tim someday. At least the one. But we can do this, Bae. We can have this." He nodded firmly, as if to punctuate his point, then ran kisses from Baldric's chin up to his ear so he could murmur an additional sentence. "I'm yours."

It required a good bit of resolve for Ben to fully accept the fact that Baldric had a class he was supposed to be teaching. In the end, though, he paused, leaned back to look at the blond, and just ended up reaching a hand out to bury his fingers in Baldric's hair as he took another kiss. "You have a class," he pointed out, the words almost coming out as a whine. "You need to go back."

He felt almost feather-light and for Baldric there was no other place in the world he wanted to float off to than home with his lover. It was strange for him to think that this was going to be his life. As clichéd as it was, had anyone told him that this was going to be the way it was and that the amount of strife was such that it was so many years prior, Baldric wasn’t entirely sure he would have believed it or contrived it to happen in the same way. In fact, he wondered what would have happened to them if he hadn’t left home that night on impulse and wound up in the Leaky Cauldron. He truly wondered now, as his eyes roved across the features of the man he loved between aching kisses he didn’t think he’d ever feel he would grow weary of, whether it all would have happened regardless. Or, perhaps, it would have happened as it was initially believed life was supposed to pan out – especially for the blonde man. He wouldn’t have change it, of course, but he couldn’t help but wonder. It was one of those what if moments, he supposed.

“Good,” he chuckled, running his hands up and down Ben’s arms. “Because you are mine. I can’t possibly spare you. There are many things I need to do for you,” he murmured, lifting his mouth to Ben’s ear. “So I’m yours, too. All yours. For as long as you want me.”

He nudged Ben’s nose with his own and smiled, stealing back one last kiss before stepping back, conceding, albeit wordlessly, that there was credence to his lover’s point. He had a room full of students he needed to deal with. Unfortunately for them, though, there wasn’t one ounce of him that wanted to go back in and teach. He hoped the Headmasters would forgive him just this once – for there were more important things at hand.

“Stay here,” he whispered. “I won’t be a moment.”

Baldric squeezed Ben’s hand and slipped back into the room where the chatter died down and all eyes turned to the professor. Baldric looked at himself and with a wry, shy grin ran his fingers through his hair. He licked his lips thoughtfully and tried to keep back the whine that rumbled at the back of his throat, reminding him who it was he’d tasted on his tongue. There was nothing else for it. Dropping his hand down to his side he declared that they could do the reading for what he was taking about or he’d catch them up in a workshop later in the week during lunch because he was going. He needed to go. There was nothing else for it. So Baldric picked up his bag, stuffed his books and papers inside semi-clumsily, donned it on his shoulder and smiled, shaking his head in half apology before wishing them all a good day.

“Okay,” Baldric emerged from the classroom breathlessly. “Come on. I’m stealing you.”

Seizing hold of Ben’s hand, Baldric led him off down the corridor as quickly as possible, hoping to get ahead of the students who would probably meander back up to their rooms themselves. Hopping up the stairs with this bizarre spring in his step that would be perfectly understandable to anyone who knew what was going on, Baldric rapidly drew towards his quarters and to the portrait of the jester and a bowl of fruit which guarded the solar. He stuttered out the password, half mad with excitement, and though the jester looked at him with a dubious expression as he pealed the apple in his hands, the door swung open all the same and Baldric pulled Ben inside.

The living room into which they stepped was rounded, not unlike the tower common rooms. Tall windows rose up, opening out across the grounds, looking towards the lake. Through them, bright sunlight shone in, tickling its way across the carpets which covered the dark wood flooring. A fireplace was situated directly opposite the painting entrance, manned either side by further windows. Around the walls on the entrance side, bookshelves were a bulging testament to the amount Baldric got through on the quiet. A long sofa covered in a thick, warm throw and plush cushions dominated the room and was framed either side by Queen Anne arm chairs that had matching ottomans poked underneath. Between the sofa and the fireplace there was a coffee table swamped with essays that still needed marking, evidence of the endeavour being the empty decanter of what had been firewhisky and a glass sat next to it all, the latter only having a slither of the amber liquid in the bottom. Across the mantelpiece were pictures of everyone he held an affection for – an overwhelming amount of them being of him with his family of friends, of him with Millie when they were in their early years at Hogwarts, later ones of him with her and Keiran and an overwhelming amount of him and Ben. There was even on of Baldric and Mrs Hudson in a pretty, intricate frame. There was only one of him and his family, in a chipped, older frame that looked well-work and in one corner had tape where it had been smashed, presumably. Books, also, littered this surface along with a pair of glasses and his old Gryffindor scarf.

The man composed himself enough to wait and hang up his jacket and his bag on the stand beside the door and he took Ben’s things, doing the same to them before taking off his shoes and chucking them into the box beneath the stand where an array of footwear was stashed in an ordered disorder. He smiled and took Ben back into his arms with a gentle tug at the elder man’s sides. Baldric caught hold of Ben’s mouth in his and sighed happily, relishing the ability to do it without fear. He smiled and pulled away, reaching up to rub his hand across his lover’s cheek.

“Will you let me?” Baldric asked softly, tugging at the hem of Ben’s shirt to articulate his desire.

He knew it was a long shot. He also knew it was probably crazy. Yet, Baldric was holding out on the hope that perhaps Ben would let him. Merlin knew it didn’t matter to the blonde man. He’d long converted himself to the fact that what was imprinted in his lover’s skin was not to be admonished but to be understood. Rather, that what had first been evidence of ill was now evidence of survival. And Bae was proud of Ben, regardless of what the other man thought of them and everything that had gone on. But, without the opportunity to change his mind, Baldric had been stuck.

Stepping back, Baldric laced his fingers gently in Ben’s and pulled softly, guiding the elder man towards the younger’s room. Behind him, Baldric reached out with his other hand and opened up the door into the bedroom. It wasn’t so unfamiliar to Ben, he didn’t think. Yet, still, it was very much the property of the blonde man who had, in the short time he’d been at Hogwarts, acquired much and made it his home.

Another rounded room, a theme for his rooms in that particular portion of the castle, and natural light continued to have a big impact. A large, four poster bed in mahogany with burgundy curtains dominated the room along with another fireplace and some other bits of furniture including a chest of drawers, a wardrobe and his trunk. Another bookshelf was also teeming with literature and overall the room, just like the living room, was lived in. It wasn’t meticulously tidy and there were things around that could have been in better places but he was certainly one for actually living in the places he occupied, not just existing within the parameters.

“Please,” Baldric murmured, finding Ben’s gaze. “Let me love you.”

Ben wanted to take a look at the rooms Baldric stayed in, but he didn't see the point. What could have changed in so little time? Instead, his eyes followed Baldric's movements, not entirely sure what was expected of him.

Ben's stomach dropped at Baldric's request, his jaw clenching as he ducked his head. A pained expression took over as he tried to find a way to explain what the problem was. After all, he was starting to need a better reason. They were officially giving it a go, weren't they? Ben wasn't entirely sure if that had been confirmed, but he was determined to make it so. Still, if they didn't have that trust, what was it worth?

But then Baldric was backing away, pulling him along, into the bedroom, and anything the older man could have thought of to say was made irrelevant. Not for the first time, he was tempted to point out just how Gryffindor the room was. That, though, probably wouldn't help. Ben doubted he could actually get away with changing the topic this time. Where he would usually have just tried to distract Baldric until he forgot what he had intended to talk (or persuade) Ben into doing. But, as said, it seemed unlikely that Baldric would let him avoid the question this time.

A quiet whine, practically a whimper, pushed its way from Ben's throat at Baldric's choice of words. "I want to, love... I do, honest. But," he fumbled, shaking his head as he tried again to pick out the proper words.

"But I know what my... markings mean, especially to you. And I can't- I don't want you to have to think about it. I couldn't deal with you looking at me like everyone did. Like they do, still, when they find out. I just... I want it to be okay, but it's not," Ben shrugged, lifting his eyebrows expressively. Backing away, he sank onto the bed and looked up at Baldric, half hoping he would be corrected, but equally okay with the idea of their pretending the topic had never been breached at all.

It was an answer which Baldric had in equal parts expected and feared.

The Wood man stood there and stared at his lover, wondering where it was that everything had changed. He knew where. He knew when. Yet, he’d thought it had changed back. Naively, he’d thought that perhaps somehow they’d gotten past it and that perhaps he’d be able to steal Ben back into bed and have him as he wanted, to be able to lavish affection upon him and make him see how much Baldric loved him. He’d thought it was going to work as seamlessly as that. But now that he was being faced with the fact that it wasn’t going to, Baldric didn’t quite know what to say.

“Babe,” Baldric sighed, sinking to the floor in front of Ben, bringing his hands to the elder man’s knees. Baldric drew his hands up across Ben’s thighs briefly before sliding them back down to rest either of the man’s hips on the soft coverings of the bed. Baldric shot Ben an imploring look and closed his eyes briefly, trying to shake away the sick feeling in his stomach. He felt deplorable. Asking. He felt dirty and strange. He didn’t know what it was but somehow he felt like it wasn’t his right. It felt as though to even ask was overstepping the mark and wanting to was wrong.

“I’m thinking about it,” he murmured. “I’m thinking about it right now. I'm looking at you right now and d’you know what I’m thinking? That I’m so proud of you. I am so, so proud of you. They’re not evidence of you failing. They don’t reveal anything about you apart from the fact that you did the right thing. You made choices and in the end what you did was the right thing even if it started out wrong. Now, that’s life. That’s what being human is about."

"I was upset. I was upset because I was scared and I owe you an explanation of why that was and I haven’t given it to you and I’m sorry. But I’m not ashamed. I am proud. I am proud of you. I love you. And it doesn’t matter to me. They’re evidence of life. Of survival. Of hard decisions being made. This,” Baldric’s hand came to cover Ben’s left forearm, “is the hardest thing in the world to walk away from and you did. You did it. I could never look at them and see what they mean to the average person. I would look at them and see what they mean to you. To us. They are a moment in time. One that could’ve changed our lives completely and irrevocably for the worse and it didn’t. We are stronger because of this. You are. I am. We are. So let me see, Ben. Let me prove to you that it’s okay. That I love you. That I will. always. love. you. no matter what.”

Baldric’s fingers moved to the cuff of Ben’s shirt and he looked up, his fingers teasing at the button there.

“Please?” He asked breathlessly.

Ben wasn’t at all sure what to expect when Baldric sank to look up at him. He swallowed hard, once, his eyes falling to stare at the carpet as a look of self-disgust practically burst onto his features. He winced at the first question, but he just ended up blinking and snapping his gaze back to find Baldric’s. Eyes wide, Ben drank in the words as though he would never hear his lover speak again. And even if that were true, the older man couldn’t find a single reason to complain about the choice of words. He didn’t dare. What he actually wanted to complain about was the fact that it wasn’t being recorded. Because something told him that he would want to hear those words again, later, when his uncertainty returned or his confidence wavered.

All he could manage to do was blink a couple more times. When Baldric’s hands reached for Ben’s sleeve, the Slytherin’s gaze didn’t move. Instead, he continued to stare at the blond for a few seconds, before pulling his hand away. Without hesitation, and with far more assuredness than even the man himself had anticipated when he started the motion, his fingers found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them himself. Although his eyes never left Baldric’s, Ben knew that his own flashed with a mix of fear and momentary confusion before he steadied himself and was able to present a look that was nothing but love for the man waiting in front of him.

Reaching the last button, Ben drew in a labored breath and then shucked his shirt, tossing it to the floor with a shocking amount of determination. He opened his mouth, expecting to allow himself to simply reply that he trusted the man before him. That he wanted Baldric to make it okay, rather than just say it. Because Ben was desperate to prove his point, to show Baldric that the trust he garnered for the Gryffindor was not just something he could claim. He was willing to prove it – wanted to prove it.

But that’s not what came out. No, that wasn’t it at all. Ben hadn’t expected it, but the words escaped as though he had intended them. And it wasn’t that he didn’t mean them. He just hadn’t expected to actually say it before even trying to reassure Baldric that he meant business. That Ben loved him more than anything. But other than the almost symbolic action of removing that layer, he had skipped over that step.

What did he really say, then? Well, he opened his mouth and leveled Baldric with what were likely the most important words he had ever said.

“Marry me. We’re free now. And I love you more than anything. Bae, … Marry me.”

The words came to their natural close and Baldric brought his lips back together, bringing his eyes across Ben’s features, hesitant to try and glean whether he’d had any effect on the man. He’d meant it, he tried to insist with his gaze. He’d meant every single word. He’d always mean it, too. No matter what happened, he would always be proud of Ben in some capacity or another. Whether the dark-haired wizard realised it or not, to Bae at least he was extraordinary. Sometimes star struck but always bursting with pride, this was his lover. The love, he was certain, of his life. There would never be a time when he wasn’t proud and when he wasn’t utterly besotted with the man before him.

Baldric watched, his throat drying out as the realisation of his desire set in. He swallowed heavily and followed Ben’s fingers before lifting his gaze back up to the elder man’s eyes. He stared, his hands lifting along Ben’s legs, and slowly Baldric rose up, regaining his height but not so much that he stood over Ben but enough for them to be level. Once the shirt was abandoned, the absent sound of the material hitting the floor registering in Baldric’s mind, the younger of the two reached out to bring his hand back to the skin his had mourned after. He paused, though, his hand stalling in mid-air. His eyes flicked up. He took a breath.

Marry me.

It was a decision that Baldric made without thinking about. The implications were significant, though. He would have to truly make a decision about his life. He knew that ties would be severed. He knew that he’d never go home again. He knew that there were things that Ben needed to know in order for it to work out. He knew that it would take a while to sort out the logistics of. He knew that somewhere along the line someone was going to have to tell his father. And as terrified as this all made him, Baldric was soothed by the one thing he knew would make it all okay – the fact that it was Ben. That Ben would be there. That he was the one he was going to be with.

“Yes,” Baldric gasped out finally. “Yes,” he repeated. “Yes, a thousand times yes.”

Despite himself, Baldric laughed and he brought his hands around Ben’s cheeks before kissing him soundly, thoroughly. Pulling away after a moment, Baldric leaned down and pulled up Ben’s arm so he could move his lips over the Dark Mark. He almost felt somewhat rebellious, as though he was teasing the Death Eaters through it even though they probably couldn’t tell. Then he moved onto the Azkaban serial number and with the tip of his tongue traced the numbers and the runes, unable to keep from smiling as Ben moved, the skin prickling at Baldric in response as the ticklishness registered.

“I love you,” he half-growled at the man as he lifted his head back up to kiss Ben again.

Losing all sense of, well, anything, Baldric stripped himself down to his boxers as fast as humanly possible. Even the socks were dumped though his toes had something to say about that. He couldn’t find it within himself to care though because as he pulled Ben under the sheets a reassuring warmth came upon them and Baldric eagerly covered the elder man’s mouth with his own, relishing in the fact that his hands could rove unimpeded all across his lover’s body again. Just being able to trace Ben’s muscles and feel the softness of the skin and reacquaint himself with freckles and blemishes he’d missed and get to know the new additions was enough for the blonde man. It was just so easy like that – even without what it elapsed into.

And it was gradual. It was slow. It was sensual. It was a hello, old friend in a whimsical sort of way. They found their rhythm again. They found each other again. And, as Bae abandoned himself, spent, beside his lover, fiancé, he reached down and slowly looped his finger’s in Ben’s, allowing his eyes to slide shut with a satisfied smile on his lips. But it was more than just satisfaction. It was something else. It was knowing that this was where he was meant to be. This was who he was meant to be with. This was how life was meant to be. And he never, ever, wanted that to change.