Disclaimer: Neither the word of Harry Potter nor the boys from Tenipuri belong to me.
"Deep in the lowest level of the Ministry of Magic lies the Department of Mysteries. Here wizards who are called Unspeakables go about researching some of the deepest mysteries of existence. These wizards have discovered that there is magic that is inherent to the very fabric of existence which manifests itself in ways that are difficult to explain and even more difficult--if not impossible--to control" – HP Lexicon
Because no matter what universe they're in, Tezuka will always push Ryoma to really fly.
Unspeakable
On his first day of his new job, Ryoma was predictably late. He'd been due into work at eight for a nine o'clock opening and he'd woken up at five minutes to the hour. By five minutes past he was barrelling through the floo shouting 'Diagon Alley' whilst fastening his robes closed. By eleven minutes past he'd landed in an ungainly heap at the floo station ready to be tripped over as the next arrival came through behind him.
"Merlin's balls," Ryoma swore as a foot smacked him squarely in the small of his back. He wanted to say something far worse but he'd promised his mother he'd try and be less provocative. Clenching his hands into fists he tried to ignore the way his vision was swimming. Fuck that hurt.
The stranger hadn't even fallen to the floor, catching himself with a slight wobble before straightening up and turning back to Ryoma. The first Ryoma was aware of it was when a hand entered his field of vision accompanied by a familiar, deep and serious voice that he couldn't immediately place. "I'm sorry, let me help you up."
Ryoma stared at the hand for a moment, his attention more occupied by the way the pain was making his eyes water than by anything else. He felt incredibly embarrassed as he knocked it away, just resisting the temptation to swipe his sleeve across his eyes as he blinked rapidly. "You should watch where you're going."
There was a moment of silence during which Ryoma assumed his assailant had left. Rolling to his hands and knees, he quickly scrambled to his feet. He knew his movements were graceless and shaky, and it was only making him feel more self-conscious. Thankfully it would only be other workers, for the most part, who saw him standing wavering with one hand pressed to his back at this time of the morning. The last thing he was expecting was a hand to close over his shoulder and he jerked at the touch. "I'm fine."
"That's evidently not true," responded the same voice from before. Ryoma had no time to say anything before a wand tip gently nudged his fingers aside and a whispered word had the hurt receding. "You shouldn't be so careless."
"Hey, you're the one who kicked me!" Ryoma hissed angrily, finally looking up at the stranger and blinking in disbelief. "You."
One elegant eyebrow inched up behind a pair of delicate wire frames, beautiful brown eyes regarding him calmly as Ryoma finally recognised his newly graduated crush of the last four years; Kunimitsu Tezuka. Now his humiliation was entirely sealed, he looked away as a blush took his cheeks. He wasn't sure what was more embarrassing, falling down in front of Tezuka or totally failing to recognise a boy he'd almost obsessed over. In his defence Ryoma didn't often get to hear Tezuka speak, but in his heart of hearts he suspected he really had no excuse.
"You were lying in front of a floo exit," Tezuka pointed out, and it took a second for Ryoma to realise it was a retort to his comment about Tezuka having kicked him.
"I was not lying, I fell," Ryoma huffed as he ran a hand through his hair agitatedly.
Tezuka didn't appear to care about that news. He retracted his hand now that Ryoma was standing under his own power and glanced at his watch. "Excuse me, I'm late."
The tall brunet was gone as abruptly as he'd appeared, robes flaring dramatically as he ascended the steps into the alleyway beyond. Ryoma just gaped, staring for a long moment at the retreating back before he remembered he was supposed to be somewhere too and dashed up the stairway after him.
The entire exchange brought to mind the first time Ryoma had met Tezuka. It had been in his second year, not long before Quidditch tryouts were destined to begin. With his father an international star he'd been determined to make the team. He'd wanted to do it in his first year but Ryoma Echizen was not Harry Potter and the team hadn't been desperately lacking any players to give him a chance at a spot. But when second year came around and one of the Slytherin chaser positions opened up alongside seeker, he'd elected to spend hours practicing each night to ensure he was chosen.
The last thing he'd been expecting was to have competition for the pitch when it was still half-dark at five in the morning, yet when he'd arrived he immediately spotted the figure circling high above. His initial reaction was to be furiously irritated; in October it had been almost freezing and, even with his cloak clutched around him and gloves on, he felt damn cold. Having risen early and trudged all the way outside in that temperature, it had bitten to think it had all been for nothing. He sure as hell never woke up easily.
Ryoma had decided not to leave right away. He'd leant his broom against the side of the stands instead, pulling his cloak closer about himself as he peered up into the slowly lightening sky. Once he had fully comprehended what he was seeing, his breath had caught in his throat.
A golden glint just visible now and then indicated what the flier was chasing, flowing fluidly after the snitch as it darted around the goal posts and wove in and out of the scaffolding of the stands. It wasn't only seeing the flier tail the tiny ball so easily that had Ryoma entranced though, it was the fact that there was a bludger loose at the same time. Even with his eyesight he hadn't spotted it immediately, it was only after the flier swerved oddly a few times that he looked to see why and spotted the darker ball against the clouds.
Ryoma wasn't sure he'd ever seen any player at the school fly so well. He'd been unable to look away as the minutes ticked by and his fingers became increasingly numb, even after he tucked his hands under his arms. Up and down, in and out, the flap of the stranger's cloak was the only thing audible aside from his own breathing, the distant whistle of the wind and hoot of the owls. Ryoma's irritation had dissipated entirely, leaving him full of dry mouthed awe and with a burning curiosity to know and best the person before him.
Ryoma hadn't hesitated to run out onto the pitch once the flier finally landed – the need to know who it was and why he wasn't on any of the house teams had been overwhelming. It hadn't once crossed Ryoma's mind that the flier could have been female as he called out to him. "Hey!"
The stranger had had his back to Ryoma when Ryoma shouted, his wand raised to do something. Ryoma had been too awestruck to consider what that might have been, to really absorb the situation and the ramifications of all its component parts. He'd just stopped, halfway to the other student as the boy turned to face him in surprise. It was surprise that quickly morphed to horror and Ryoma hadn't chance to figure out why before blinding pain exploded over the left side of his head and he found blackness claiming him.
The bludger!
In the end Ryoma had woken up in the hospital wing with a splitting headache and Kunimitsu Tezuka sat beside his bed. Initially, when Tezuka had first introduced himself and promptly told Ryoma not to let his guard down on the Quidditch pitch in future before leaving just as swiftly, Ryoma had been furiously annoyed and embarrassed. Yet when Madam Pomfrey later told him that Tezuka had sat beside his bed watching over him since he'd taken Ryoma up to the hospital wing, it had made him feel oddly warm, fuzzy… and girly.
Merely the thought had been enough to make him flush when he'd finally entered the store, fifteen minutes late. Thankfully it hadn't been late enough to have him fired straightaway, or perhaps the cause of his guilty blush had been mistaken; it really didn't matter once he'd apologised and offered to work in his lunch hour to make up for it.
That had been the start of his first day at Quality Quidditch Supplies, his summer job before sixth year started and study for NEWTs became intense. Not that Ryoma had had any idea what he was going to do, he just wanted to play Quidditch and NEWTs didn't matter for that. He did need money for a decent broom though, and that had been why he'd taken the summer job. Well, it was the other reason besides a dire need not to be stuck in the house with his father all summer.
Ryoma had never really expected to enjoy working in a store, even a Quidditch store. If anything, having to put up with loud bratty kids who idolised the players but couldn't fly to save their lives had promised to be horrendous. Yet, after that collision in the floo station on the first morning, Ryoma had allowed himself the tiniest hope that it might be quite fun. Upon reflection he'd assumed that Tezuka must have gotten a job in Diagon Alley somewhere and since the boy – man now – was such an amazing flier, he'd no doubt be coming into the store on his breaks to admire the brooms. It was what most normal guys who liked flying did after all, even if Tezuka had always been funny about playing Quidditch.
Of course, Tezuka had never been normal. The days slid by and Ryoma kept a look out as covertly as he could manage, but his crush never showed his face. Ryoma was slowly resigning himself to the fact that Tezuka must have only been going to an appointment at Gringotts or something when he'd tripped over him. All the conversations and clever comments concerning the brooms that he'd come up with were for nothing, and he felt especially stupid for having spent any time considering them in the first place.
Letting out a long and exaggerated sigh, Ryoma added another few boxes of wax to the shelf he was restocking before shooting a side glance at his companion who was watching as attentively as ever. Ryoma had to do the shelves by hand because of the magical properties in the wax apparently. He personally thought it had to be a load of bullshit since the wax could obviously go through the floo system with the customers without any problem.
"This is stupid," Ryoma muttered, reaching to scratch the little cat behind the ears.
The feline had decided to adopt Ryoma the first day he arrived and, although it felt silly to talk to an animal, Ryoma had been somewhat glad of the company when the cat was around. He'd quickly discovered that although the cat looked large – a long haired, chestnut brown breed – the puss was pretty thin under all the fluffy fur. As he assumed that it was the owner's cat he hadn't said anything about the fact, but he sneaked the animal some of his lunch each day and eventually started bringing in some of Karupin's treats. Right then the calm kitty gaze, emphasized by some dark facial markings around the eyes, was trained on him patiently, as if waiting for elaboration.
Ryoma obliged, scowling. "We should be able to use magic for this. If it can go through the floo system then a restock spell shouldn't matter, should it? The packaging ought to be warded against it even! I bet she's just making it up because I was late the first day."
In response the cat simply leapt down and wound around Ryoma's ankles a few times, as if to acknowledge Ryoma was right to be upset and there-there, before bounding off through the open door. It wasn't unusual behaviour, in fact the cat left at precisely that time – midday – everyday like clockwork. Ryoma'd come to the conclusion that it must have been cheating on him to get treats from someone else, but since the cat always came back he let it slide. Yet that motion of comforting before leaving him alone because that was just the way the world worked and nothing else could be said… It reminded him of school in his third year.
"This is stupid," Ryoma had huffed in irritation as he set the jar of newt eyes on the work bench a little too hard so it wobbled from side to side before settling.
"Be careful," Tezuka had admonished in turn, not even looking away from his cauldron.
Ryoma hadn't been entirely sure of what the Ravenclaw fifth year was doing, nor what he was meant to make of the boy's presence when he'd entered the empty classroom. He'd just been banished from Snape's potions class to pursue independent study across the hallway where his astounding ineptitude wouldn't endanger the lives of his classmates, or so said Snape. Ryoma had personally thought the man was talking crap but he'd been only too ready to go so he'd exited the room full of his peers as bidden. On reaching the classroom across the hallway he'd found Tezuka and the day had suddenly seemed so much better. Except that Tezuka had merely indicated the blackboard after giving Ryoma a long look before continuing what he had already been doing.
"Are you meant to teach me?" Ryoma had asked after he'd unpacked his school things and Tezuka had still failed to say anything further than that.
"No," Tezuka had responded simply. "Your work is on the board."
Ryoma had frowned, he'd already read it and it most certainly wasn't a third year potion. It had irritated him that he'd had to admit the fact aloud to Tezuka of all people, but he did so nonetheless, although through gritted teeth. After Snape's tirade only minutes earlier he hadn't wanted to risk it. "That's too advanced for me."
"Have you ever tried it?" Tezuka had enquired, still not looking away from studiously slicing something… It had been making an odd enough squelching sound that Ryoma hadn't been enamoured of finding out precisely what the ingredient might be.
"No…" Ryoma had responded.
"Then do," Tezuka had told him.
Ryoma had folded his arms across his chest, feeling awkward. "I don't think I should."
Tezuka still hadn't looked to him, even then, though he had asked, "Why not?"
"Snape said I was the most moronic imbecile he'd ever had the misfortune to teach." Ryoma had told the wall rather than Tezuka, glaring at the stonework as if it was somehow at fault for the situation.
"Professor Snape," Tezuka had corrected. "You scared him."
Ryoma had already known that inside, but it had still seemed strange to hear Tezuka's deep, serious voice relaying it aloud. Pairing the image of an entirely furious Snape with fear just didn't work in his head, but he knew it was true. "I tried to put bubotuber pus into the boil cure potion."
"Bubotuber pus would have reacted with the porcupine quills and exploded." Tezuka had stated mildly, a mere observation of an indisputable fact. It had been a stark contrast to the way Snape had been screaming it in his face minutes earlier.
"Except it wouldn't have for me," Ryoma had retorted with a scowl. He had known that it was right in theory, that the porcupine quills were too sensitive for the bubotuber pus to be added safely, but he also knew that it wouldn't have exploded like Snape had claimed. Not for him anyway – and as soon as Ryoma had thought the idea and realised what he'd said, he'd regretted how stupid it sounded. Snape was a potion master for Merlin's sake, he knew his stuff.
But Tezuka had surprised Ryoma, glancing up from his cauldron with what looked like a tiny smile on his lips as he confirmed, "No, it wouldn't have for you."
Ryoma had blinked, at a loss for anything to say for several moments. When he did at last open his mouth to speak, Tezuka had deftly interrupted him before he'd even made a sound. "You should start that potion."
Letting out a silent huff, Ryoma had turned away to do as he was told. Only once he'd prepared most of his ingredients for the draught of living death did he make another attempt to find out what Tezuka had meant. "How do you know that?"
"You have a different type of magic," Tezuka had responded without hesitating that time. "Professor Snape is logical, he's learnt from books and formulas and established fact. When he tries something new, he plans it carefully based on everything he knows. Logical magic is incredibly controlled and always done with a wand. You have intuitive magic, you try things based on hunches and the way your magic functions ensures it works. It's illogical and at odds with everything a wizard like Professor Snape believes. It's also wild and wandless, very difficult to control, and so you scare him."
"I can do wandless magic?" Ryoma had frozen in shock with his hand paused clutching the stirring rod.
"Don't stop stirring," Tezuka had instructed in that no argument tone that automatically had Ryoma complying. "No you can't do wandless magic, not on purpose. Your magic enables you to tell when you can and can't do things though, even if it contradicts established fact. It also makes it easier for you to do those things."
Ryoma had wrinkled his nose, staring at his cauldron thoughtfully. When he finally found his voice, the words that he'd meant to be a question had come out as a statement. "So he's going to keep being afraid of me."
Tezuka's hand closing over his shoulder and squeezing gently had almost made him jump, but it had had nothing on the way Tezuka's words had chilled him. "Anyone who knows will. Make sure you clean up when you're done, I have class."
Tezuka had left then, the warmth of his hand retreating with him as he fled the dungeons. He had left his cauldron out, the contents simmering away. Ryoma had felt silly at the time for being pleased Tezuka had known he didn't have to tell Ryoma to leave it alone.
Another week slid by and Ryoma had resigned himself to not seeing Kunimitsu Tezuka again in the holidays. He'd even looked in each and every store most lunch times – as covertly as he could manage – on the off chance Tezuka might have been in one of them.
"It's not like I'd know what to say if I did find him," Ryoma grouched to the cat. By that point the kitty had been dubbed 'Specs' because of how appropriate it seemed with the cat's eye markings; the owner hadn't contradicted Ryoma's choice if she'd heard him use it either.
Specs, unsurprisingly, continued to gaze at Ryoma blankly from where he was curled up on the floor a couple of feet from the display Ryoma was refilling. Every so often his tail would flit from side to side, but otherwise he just looked still and lazy except for the way he watched Ryoma.
Ryoma decided to elaborate anyway as he added more to the already precariously slanting display case. "Kunimitsu Tezuka. He was two years above me at school. You'd probably like him, he was very quiet too."
One of Specs' ears twitched and he blinked slowly.
"And he was hot, really hot. He wore gla—Ack!" Ryoma broke off as Specs leapt at him, sending him toppling backwards from balancing on his heels as he tried to catch the kitty. Needless to say it didn't work and he just got paws scrabbling across his face as Specs streaked out the way of the toppling display. Crap. He really should've seen that coming, there were boxes all over the aisle where he'd just been crouched. A few even seemed to have split open, bugger.
Ryoma barely had time to comprehend the mess he'd made before his boss came bustling through from the back, yelling at him to clear up and that the damaged stock was coming out of his wages. He listened throughout, sincerely wishing he could beat his head against the wall or something. Specs had completely abandoned him to his fate after trampling across his face. Cats were such traitors sometimes.
In the end his lunch break was put off by an hour and a half and he wasn't hungry by the time he made it out into the alley. He just drifted along, scuffing his feet on the ground with his hands rammed deep in his pockets as he radiated hate vibes at his boss. He wasn't sure how such a kill joy had ever ended up in charge of a Quidditch store; the other employees sure as hell weren't as bad as she was so maybe she inherited the business from her husband in the war or something. He just wished she'd stop with her attitude.
It was as that thought crossed his mind that he glimpsed something from the corner of his eye – a flash of brown skidding around the corner into Flourish and Blotts. For some reason his first thought was that it was Specs, and before he'd given any further consideration he'd darted into the bookstore after it.
Ryoma's gaze was on the ground as he moved further inside, sweeping back and forth in search of that long, fluffy, bottlebrush tail. It was entirely unsurprising that he ended up walking right into someone.
"Echizen."
"Tezuka." Ryoma's eyes flew wide with surprise as he recovered his stumble and took the older boy in. Tezuka looked gorgeous, of course.
Tezuka merely regarded him calmly, one hand resting on the shelves beside him, as if he'd caught hold of them when Ryoma knocked into him, whilst the other held a book open in his palm. "Are you looking for something?"
"My cat," Ryoma answered automatically. Something flickered in Tezuka's gaze briefly and Ryoma found himself rushing to correct the statement. "Well, I mean, a cat that hangs around sometimes. I thought he came in here."
"I see," Tezuka responded in his deep and serious voice. Ryoma was sure two little words like that oughtn't to have had any influence on his knees, but it did. "Have you had your OWL results yet?"
"What?" Ryoma was caught off guard, the question coming entirely out of the blue. "No, not yet."
"You should read this," Tezuka told him, passing him the book he'd been holding.
Ryoma took it automatically, glancing down at the front cover: Theory of Magical Flight. He blinked and looked up to ask about it only to find Tezuka gone again. He shoved the book onto the shelf blindly and moved towards the exit, searching this time for the wispy brown of Tezuka's hair. "Tezuka?"
Tezuka was gone.
In fourth year, two years into his stint on the house team, Ryoma had still been living and breathing Quidditch. He'd been sat in the library daydreaming about the moves he wanted to try instead of writing his potions essay when the family owl had arrived with a package.
Ryoma had fumbled for a moment, hurrying to avoid drawing Madam Pince's attention to the fact there was an owl in the library. He'd thought he'd gotten away with it when he'd managed to relieve the bird of its load and send it soaring back towards the rafters and, he assumed, some manner of exit.
"Echizen?"
Back then, Tezuka merely saying his name had almost been enough to leave Ryoma hard. He'd pulled in close to the table he'd been working at quickly before looking up. "Tezuka?"
The older boy had been wearing a faintly perplexed expression as he glanced around Ryoma's work area. Ryoma hadn't even tried to lie to himself about how much he liked the scrutiny, dropping the newly arrived package lightly into his bag under the table. "Is everything ok?"
"I thought—" Tezuka had broken off, shaking his head. "Madam Pince said you were back here."
Ryoma had well and truly failed to ignore the thrill that had gone through him at the idea Tezuka had been looking for him. "You wanted me?"
"I had something for you," Tezuka had told him, setting a book on the table and sliding it across to Ryoma. "You might find it interesting."
Ryoma had nodded before he'd even looked to see what the title was, taking the book in hand and turning it to read the cover. "Theory of Magical Flight?"
"It's a library book so just leave it here when you're done," Tezuka had explained, as though the information had any bearing on the question Ryoma had posed.
"Right," Ryoma had affirmed, more than a little nonplussed. At least Tezuka's baffling offering of what had appeared to be a truly boring book had killed any inappropriate reactions he'd had to Tezuka's presence. "Thanks."
Tezuka had only nodded to him in response, and then left Ryoma alone turning the book over in his hands.
All Ryoma had been able to think was that the book seemed utterly dull, no pictures and just lots and lots of small text. Sure, he loved flying, but that was just it. Ryoma loved flying and he didn't really care why he could do it so long as he could.
Still, he'd resolved to take the book when he remembered the package and reached into his bag to retrieve it. Unwrapping it as quietly as he could manage, he'd soon found himself unveiling Flying Like Magic, Vol. 5. It was a book he'd been hinting to his mother about since it had been released earlier that year, the most recent in a line of absolutely fantastic analyses of the latest amazing moves in professional Quidditch. His dad had made a few volumes, but Ryoma had been determined to make them all from the day he turned professional. He'd eagerly flipped it open then and there.
By the time he'd heard Madam Pince calling the end of study period, he'd already been thirty pages into the text and had hastily thrown the book in his bag with his potions work before he rushed out of the library.
Tezuka's recommendation had lain forgotten on the table where he'd been sitting.
Skulking down Knockturn Alley in search of an elusive broom sale was, Ryoma had to admit, a fairly dumb way to have elected to spend his lunch hour. Still, not having seen Tezuka in two weeks and with the prices in Quality Quidditch Supplies not getting any lower, Ryoma had decided that the potential for adventure and a decent broom was too much to pass up when he overheard a couple of men discussing ace brooms going cheap in Knockturn. Or to put it simply, he'd been bored and it had sounded like an intriguing sort of thing to entertain himself with.
Whatever adventure he might have envisioned though, it had not involved getting halfway down the alleyway only to see none other than Tezuka running towards him from the opposite direction. Ryoma wasn't sure he'd ever seen Tezuka run anywhere before in his life, thus his own eyes were every bit as wide with surprise as Tezuka's when the brunet spotted him.
Ryoma did at least make a passing effort to move to the side but Tezuka actually changed course to make sure he'd still run into Ryoma, which the younger boy found bewildering. He'd not even managed to take in why Tezuka was running before he found himself sandwiched firmly between Tezuka's body and the grimy alley wall, the uncomfortable trickling of a disillusionment charm overtaking his senses rapidly.
When Ryoma opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on, Tezuka's hand immediately fixed firmly over it to silence him. It was the first time, to Ryoma's memory, that Tezuka had ever touched him skin on skin and, as they'd gone from barely having touched to crowded against the wall, he felt he had reason to feel somewhat distracted. Tezuka evidently wasn't afflicted by the same plight; he was busy telling Ryoma in a tone that was both barely audible and incredibly stern, "Shhh."
Not really having any other option, Ryoma did as he was told and took advantage of the opportunity for deep calming breaths. They were both silent and incredibly still as hurried footsteps approached, slowed for a heart-stopping moment, and then sped on past their hiding place towards Diagon Alley. It was only once they could no longer hear anything that Tezuka stepped back and released the spell.
By that point Ryoma had collected himself enough to both make coherent comment and not have his thoughts derailed by how hot Tezuka was like he normally did. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what that was about?"
Tezuka regarded him for a moment before asking, "What were your OWL results like?"
"What?" Ryoma stared at him in disbelief before remembering the incident at Flourish and Blotts. Then again, that really explained nothing at all about why Tezuka – who had really only spoken to him personally a handful of times ever – kept on about it, because Flourish and Blotts hadn't been the first time either. "What is it with you and my grades?"
Ryoma's only response was a long and firm look from Tezuka until he gave in, sighing in exasperation. Just once he'd like to come off feeling like he'd won in one of these little confrontations, rather than being left entirely adrift. "Nothing less than Exceeds Expectations, and that was in History of Magic."
"What NEWTs will you do?" Tezuka pressed, as if he hadn't had Ryoma pinned to the wall moments earlier and this were actually any of his business.
It annoyed Ryoma that Tezuka didn't even manage a 'congratulations' if he was going to quiz him on his results, but there wasn't a great deal he could do about the fact. Somehow he couldn't even fail to answer Tezuka, and so he muttered his reply grudgingly. "Um, Defence, Potions, err, and Charms, Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures, I guess."
Tezuka nodded approvingly, like Ryoma ought to care what he thought, and moved away, as if to leave.
All Ryoma could think was that he'd had enough of that lately. "Hey!"
Tezuka paused, raising one eyebrow in query.
"You owe me," Ryoma asserted as he found a smirk for quite possibly the first time ever in Tezuka's presence, it was certainly the first he'd ever directed at his crush.
There was no reply, but Tezuka had at least not walked off again.
"For just now and not explaining," Ryoma elaborated, before near as delivering an order. "Take me out tonight."
In the long minute that followed, Ryoma distinctly hated Tezuka's carefully blank facial expression. He felt like all the air in his lungs had been stolen when Tezuka finally nodded. "Ok. I'll pick you up from your home at eight."
Ryoma decided not to question how Tezuka knew where he lived. He forgot all about the broom sale.
In fifth year it had rained and stormed throughout their match against Ravenclaw, but they'd still steamrolled the rival team. Ryoma wasn't sure why, but he'd lingered in the changing room after it was over. The rest of his team charged off to party in the Slytherin dungeons, but even though they'd won he hadn't felt like it. Perhaps it was because he'd known Ravenclaw could have beaten them.
The rain has eased off a little by the time he'd made his way back out onto the pitch, still falling but far lighter. It had seemed amazing how the stands that had been full to bursting throughout the match could be so empty and quiet only fifteen minutes in its wake.
"Shouldn't you be partying?"
Ryoma had blinked at the soft inquiry, twisting to see Tezuka stood at the foot of the steps to the Ravenclaw stands just behind him. "Didn't feel like it."
Tezuka had folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head to the side so wispy brown strands of hair fell over his glasses. He hadn't said anything though, and for once Ryoma hadn't really wanted to look at him so he'd turned away.
"Congratulations," Tezuka had told his back, before Ryoma had had chance to walk off.
"I wanted to play a match with you," Ryoma had retorted angrily. That was what had been bothering him, Tezuka hadn't ever played for Ravenclaw in all the times they'd beaten them and from the end of that match, with Tezuka in his seventh year, it had become too late to ever see the difference it might have made.
Tezuka hadn't responded, but Ryoma had somehow known that the older boy hadn't left.
"Why don't you play?" Ryoma had asked. It had been a question that had burned in him since he'd first seen Tezuka in the air in his second year, but he'd never felt he had the right to ask until that day. And on that afternoon in the rain, he'd made it an accusation.
"I fly," Tezuka had said, as if it answered the question at all. Normally those kinds of answers had only mildly annoyed Ryoma, but that day it really pissed him off.
"Playing is flying," Ryoma had snapped, spinning round to face Tezuka with his hands balled into fists.
"No, it's not," was all Tezuka had said in reply.
"You're still not going to explain are you?" Ryoma asked as he settled across from Tezuka with his drink. Really, he nearly had to shout it to be heard over the music as they'd ended up in a muggle style club in Diagon Alley. Smash – Ryoma had never heard of it before, but it seemed decent.
Tezuka just looked at him in response, lips twitching as if he might have smiled if he'd remembered how. He didn't say anything though, and Ryoma was coming to decide that he liked that about Tezuka. It was frustrating as hell sometimes, but Tezuka at least never tried to lie or evade him with clever words.
"I think you owe me a dance then," Ryoma informed him, taking a sip of his drink. He still wasn't seventeen so he'd had to settle for grape Fanta, a choice that Tezuka had looked faintly amused over at the time. Ryoma had wanted to point out that Tezuka should've been expecting it after Ryoma had dragged him for burgers in muggle London by way of dinner, but he didn't. He'd merely waited for his drink with as placid an expression as he could manage.
"I don't dance," Tezuka told Ryoma after what seemed to be several moments of shocked silence.
Ryoma shook his head and slid round the booth so he was settled next to Tezuka. "I didn't ask if you danced, I said you owed me one."
Tezuka frowned, "I already took you out to dinner."
Ryoma smirked, "I know. You're really generous, Tezuka."
Tezuka slanted him a look that Ryoma guessed was meant to look pained, but Tezuka's lips were twitching with another repressed smile so it didn't quite work. "You're very demanding, Echizen."
"I don't know what you mean," Ryoma returned, pushing Tezuka out of the booth sideways so the older boy had to stand or fall on his arse.
Tezuka, being Tezuka, managed to keep his feet and stood surveying Ryoma sternly with his arms folded across his chest. It lost a great deal of its impact on Ryoma because somehow, even though Tezuka was dressed quite casually in a white tee and blue jeans, all Ryoma could think was that he looked really, really hot.
Ryoma slid out of the booth after Tezuka, clasping his hand with a shameless grin and dragging him out onto the dance floor without so much as a by your leave. What Ryoma hadn't expected was that Tezuka would just stand there and look lost once Ryoma'd found them a spot out of the way near a wall so they oughtn't to get bumped into too much.
"What are you waiting for?" Ryoma had shouted over the music, and Tezuka had merely raised his hands in a helpless gesture. It was only when Tezuka had turned to leave the floor that Ryoma had realised what the problem was and caught one of Tezuka's hands to pull him back. Taking the other as well, he stepped close to Tezuka with a smirk and drew them around his waist. Then he linked his own around Tezuka's neck, pretending not to notice Tezuka's startled expression as he tucked his head against the older boy's shoulder. "Like that."
Ryoma had barely managed to get Tezuka moving to the music when, despite his efforts to the contrary, some idiot smacked into Tezuka from behind and Ryoma found himself sandwiched between Tezuka and the wall for the second time that day. This time, when Tezuka loosened his hold to step back and Ryoma looked up to find the older boy opening his mouth to apologise, Ryoma decided he wasn't allowing him to get away again. It was all too easy to slide his hands up into Tezuka's hair and pull him down, slanting his mouth over Tezuka's in an entirely uncoordinated but utterly perfect kiss.
When he finally broke it, letting Tezuka pull back, he was fully expecting to be shouted at or stormed out on. What he didn't expect was Tezuka cupping his face, staring at him intently with a passion that excited something inside of him. Tezuka's words had barely been audible over the music. "I want this, I want you."
It was Tezuka who started the second kiss, deeper, hungrier, more passionate and more knowledgeable than Ryoma's attempt. It was as if Ryoma had unblocked a dam behind Tezuka's usual calm façade. More than that, it felt like shameless self-indulgence and Ryoma could only hang on for the ride as Tezuka had his fill.
When Ryoma woke up, he was sore and aching and still couldn't be sure he'd ever felt so good. The previous night assaulted him in a rush, their heated kisses, their hurried departure from the club, the long hours in Tezuka's bed… Tezuka had given him easily the most mind blowing orgasms of his life, he'd set Ryoma on fire totally and completely. It was the kind of passion that Ryoma had often daydreamed must lie under Tezuka's cool exterior, and he'd gotten to taste it all. He had the sexiest, most-amazing-in-bed boyfriend ever. And Ryoma could only hope there'd be a repeat performance before he had to go to work.
Rolling onto his side, he reached for Tezuka only to encounter cool sheets. Blinking sleepily, it took a moment of groping to establish that yes, Tezuka really wasn't there. His eyes flew wide and he sat up abruptly, only to wince a moment later.
"Tezuka?"
There was no answer but the ticking of a clock somewhere in the flat. Ryoma frowned unhappily but decided Tezuka must just have gone to fetch breakfast or something, it was Tezuka's flat after all. He'd have to point out that although food was good, sex was much better when the wanderer returned. For the time being he hauled himself to the shower to clean up, he didn't even want to imagine his boss' face if he rolled in with the 'just fucked' look.
When he emerged from the shower and his call still failed to elicit a response, Ryoma began to worry. His clothes were easy to locate, piled neatly on a chair in the corner of the bedroom. They'd even been cleaned he noticed with amusement, that seemed very Tezuka somehow. It was when he picked up his jeans to pull them on that he first noticed the book.
Theory of Magical Flight.
Just the sight of it made Ryoma snort in amusement. He was beginning to think his boyfriend had a bigger boner for the damned book that he did for him. He ignored it for the moment as he put his clothes on, straightening up in front of the mirror. He didn't bother with his hair, waste of time. That was when he grabbed the book instead, heading for the kitchen as he flipped it open.
He'd just been wondering where Tezuka had gotten to, again, when he saw the note. It looked like a neat little page from a letter writing kit, lying facedown on the carpet where it had fluttered free of the book he was holding. Ryoma's heart plummeted to his stomach.
His fingers were actually shaking as he picked it up, turning the paper so he could read the neatly scribed words.
Last night was a mistake, you have my sincere apologies. Please read the book.
Ryoma blinked a few times in stunned silence before crumpling the page into a ball and throwing it across the room. Not content with the sound that made, he hurled the book after it and shattered the glass in a picture frame hanging on the wall. He couldn't bring himself to care either, if anything he wanted to do more damage.
Before he did, though, he grabbed his coat and, with a cursory glance to make sure he'd left nothing, he exited the apartment rapidly. The door rattled on its hinges when he slammed it behind him, taking the steps to the ground floor two at a time. He wanted to be as far away as possible by the time Tezuka got back. Everything he'd dreamed and hoped had come true in last night had crashed and burned and Tezuka hadn't even told him to his face. It stung.
Just as he was entering Diagon Alley, a streak of brown shot out from off to one side to wind around his legs. He didn't hesitate to reach down and pick Specs up, burying his face against the animal's soft fur as he fell back against the wall out of view. "He just left me."
Christmas of sixth year was a welcome break from relentless study for Ryoma. He hadn't seen Tezuka again that summer, nor had he attempted to go to the older boy's apartment again. He'd merely worked out the remainder of the holiday and returned to Hogwarts as if nothing special had taken place. He'd have pretended better except that throughout the term Tezuka had kept sending him copies of the same book. He'd kept sending them back but even when he'd defaced them, Tezuka had sent another and another. He was totally unsurprised to see a neatly wrapped package at the foot of his bed come Christmas morning that couldn't really have been from anyone else.
It had gotten to the point of laugh or cry, and he resigned himself to amusement as he opened the parcel to reveal two books. Theory of Magical Flight and Advanced Theory of Magical Flight. For a long moment he just stared at the covers before sighing and flipping open the first of the two as he reached into a big tin of chocolates his mother had sent for his birthday.
Five hours later he was staring at a neatly pencilled instruction inside the back cover of the text: Don't try anything yet. Funny how Tezuka seemed to know him that well for all he'd treated him like crap. His mind was brimming with everything the text had explained, the logic behind a broom's ability to stay airborne – how the magic could hold the broomstick suspended from gravity with a singularly placed spell on the wood – and the logic behind the inability of any flier to push any broom beyond a certain point – because it would require constant modification to the magic applied throughout flight.
Ryoma wanted to go and try and keep modifying it, he could just picture how far and fast he could go if he could make it work… But when he opened his eyes, the note was still there. Don't try anything yet. Half of him wanted to ignore it as payback for Tezuka's treatment of him, but another part wanted to know more and that overrode his impatience this once. Tezuka had been a bastard about their one night stand, but he would still have Ryoma's safety in mind.
"Hey, Echizen, you planning on missing Christmas dinner?"
The statement made Ryoma pause in reaching for the advanced volume. He'd eaten an awful lot of chocolate but he had almost forgotten Christmas dinner for a moment. Just thinking of the Hogwarts spread on Christmas day though… He was suddenly starving. "No, I'm coming!"
He left the books lying on his bed as he rushed out to follow his house mates up to the hall, yet this time he didn't forget them. Two hours later he'd fall asleep on his bed, the advanced text open across his chest and his belly full of Christmas food. The next day he'd pen Tezuka a note with the books he sent back.
What next?
The book exchange continued through the rest of his sixth year, slowing as work picked up again, through the summer and into seventh. There were no more notes, no more instructions to not try it because that was implicit and no more questions what would be next. Each time Ryoma sent a finished book back, another would arrive within a few days. They weren't always obviously related to flying, some were about meditation and control, some were about time and time turners, some were about medical magic and the body, and some were even about divination… On the odd occasion, when Ryoma was about ready to send a note declaring he'd had enough theory and could Tezuka get to the bloody point, he received a text on all the latest Quidditch moves.
The night after his final exam Ryoma had gone for a walk in Hogwarts grounds. He thought he'd done well and he felt pretty calm about everything. Down in his dorm room, tucked away in his trunk, were three different offers from major Quidditch teams in the minor leagues. All three were ideal stepping stones to much more, and all three had given very generous terms in their proposed contracts. There was still something missing though, something more that teased from just beyond his grasp. He'd be fine without it, but he wanted to know what it was.
Ryoma had almost reached the pitch when he first spotted the owl winging its way toward him. He wasn't too concerned as he knew it was time for another book, so he simply raised his arm ready for the owl to alight. When it did though, it wasn't a book it was carrying but a note. Ryoma took it with only the faintest hesitation as he well remembered Tezuka's last note. The owl had taken off again before he'd even unfolded it fully.
Fly
For a long moment he merely stared at the square of parchment, yet, when he looked up, his gaze automatically went to the old Quidditch supply shed. He didn't think twice about sliding the note into his pocket and striding across the pitch toward it. Pulling his wand, it was but a murmured word before he had access to the school brooms. None of them were as good as his current one, but the books had taught him that that didn't matter. He grabbed one at random along with a case of balls and dragged both out onto the pitch.
Two loose bludgers later and he found himself kicking off from the ground with a nervous knot of excitement crackling in his belly. He felt acutely aware of every aspect of his magic, of the broom's magic and the bludgers as they zipped around on the periphery of his senses. He felt unbelievably alive and free as he remained motionless in the air for long seconds, the wind blowing his hair back and forth into his face. He waited and waited, and only when the bludgers turned toward him did he move.
That night he went faster than ever before on a broom that was decades old, he went harder and further for longer than he could have conceived possible before sixth year. That night was the first night Ryoma really understood what Tezuka had meant.
"Why don't you play?"
"I fly."
"Playing is flying."
"No, it's not."
There had only been one place for Ryoma to go in the end. Flying, really flying, had obliterated the meaning Quidditch had once held for him. The day after his exams had ended he'd received another note with instructions on, instructions if he wanted to find out more and go further. They were instructions that held the possibility of pushing the boundaries of everything that was known and relied on and believed in simply because he had magic that was a little different. There'd been no real question what he'd choose to do.
When he'd arrived in the ministry, his boots had echoed in the empty entrance hall. It was late at night and officially it was closed, but he'd been told to come in then specifically. Ryoma had somehow expected someone to be there to meet him, but it was entirely empty and devoid of life as he walked further inside. "Hello?"
A light pattering sound drew his attention to a side corridor, a small flash of brown just visible rounding the far corner when Ryoma got level with it. He knew his voice was incredulous as he attempted to identify what he'd just seen, chasing after the retreating creature. "Specs!"
When he reached the far end he found himself at the top of a staircase, lowering his voice as he called out self-consciously, "Specs?"
A soft mew broke the silence in response and he descended the first set of steps to see those familiar cat eyes gleaming at him from the landing below.
"Am I supposed to follow you?" Ryoma asked, dazed. He felt like he'd slipped into the twilight zone as he watched Specs run on as if to say 'yes' and found himself scrambling in the cat's wake.
Deeper and deeper they went, floor two, three, four, five, six, seven… Finally the steps ran out at the ninth level. A plain corridor led away from him towards an open door, the pattering of Spec's claws on tile receding toward the light that spilled through it. Ryoma was hesitant to go forward but he pushed himself to, passing the lift exit as he moved closer.
As he reached the doorway, he had to steel himself not to turn and run. He was looking in on a circular room lit with blue flamed candles. In the middle of the floor, so polished it looked like water in the reflection of the flickering fire, sat Specs.
"Specs?"
Ryoma found himself reaching to grip the doorframe when Specs began to change, shifting and growing bigger and bigger. Where once there had been a tiny cat with a bottlebrush tail that'd comforted him through his summer after fifth year, now there stood Kunimitsu Tezuka.
"You—" Ryoma broke off, speechless. Distantly he realised he ought to be angry, ought to be furious and not simply stuttering in shock. "Like me?"
Tezuka nodded once, holding out his hand to Ryoma. "Welcome to the department of mysteries."
Tentatively Ryoma took it, glancing once around the array of doors in that surreal little room before he focused on Tezuka's face again.
Closing his fingers around Ryoma's, Tezuka drew him inside. "It's time to fly, Echizen."
"Why don't you play?"
"I fly."
"Playing is flying."
"No, it's not."
"It's time to fly, Echizen."