Part Three

As time was wont to do, it passed quickly. Leapt, almost, into one week then two weeks.

When the third week eclipsed, the Christmas holidays were upon them. Alfred had learnt a lot about Arthur, a lot more than he had intended to learn.

Arthur wasn't malicious as a teenager, not like his adult self. The American wondered what had changed, what had occurred in Arthur's life that had driven him to retreat into the cold, barbed husk he resided in as Alfred's professor.

As a teenager, he was a fighter; Alfred thought he resembled a gentle housecat that was capable of scrapping like a hissing alley cat once provoked. He had a wicked sense of humour and he was blushed a lot and easily. He was unexpectedly shy, especially around Alfred sometimes. He adored British television and literature, specifically that romantic period mush. He had four older brothers, none of whom were magical and didn't appreciate Arthur's magical blood. His parents were loving but ignorant. He had familiar, a Scottish Fold called Cheshire after his home county, and Cheshire was his only friend before Alfred.

Because Alfred was Arthur's friend, somehow. They spent almost every day with each other and Alfred had grown surprisingly, precariously, attached.

He visited Professor Wang regularly and there had been no progress as to how to fix this little problem thus far, which, after three weeks, was disheartening to say the least.

In the midst of the familiar professors, familiar surroundings and… Arthur, Alfred often found that he had to remind himself he was an intruder to this time. He missed his family, his friends and the normality of his own timeline. In spite of this, there was a slowly expanding gnawing in his mind that wondered how he would cope without Arthur, the Arthur that he had become best friends with.

Could he really go back to loathing sour Professor Kirkland when he knew the man slept with a stuffed mint-green rabbit and religiously, voluntarily, read Shakespearian sonnets? And understood them.

"Squeeze the stem, the leaf will come away easier that way."

Arthur set down his sheers and showed Alfred the appropriate way to extract the leaf. True to his words, the leaf popped off the plant with ease.

"You're such a smartie pants, Artie. Smartie Artie."

Alfred grunted through laughter when Arthur elbowed him in the side.

"If that's the thanks I get for helping…"

Feeling mischievous, Alfred reached towards Arthur, who was holding a pair of magically enhanced tweezers above a delicate leaf with unshaking concentration, and tickled him without a smidgen of mercy. Arthur dropped the tweezers and swiped at Alfred, laughing uncontrollably all the while which made Alfred laugh uncontrollably in return and this went on until they were reprimanded by the arthritic Herbology professor.

Alfred let out another peel of laughter at the noxious glare he received from Arthur.

"Whoops, my hands slipped," the Gryffindor said into the smaller boy's ear. Arthur went scarlet all over; he had a tendency to do that whenever Alfred got close, and he shoved Alfred.

"Wanker."

"Only as much as you do," Alfred teased.

Arthur skin burned plum now and he turned to Alfred, his lips a perfect 'o'. "Alfred!" he hissed. "I cannot believe you just said that. You have absolutely no awareness of social boundaries. Besides, you have don't know how often I… well."

This had to be the most flustered he had ever seen Arthur and that was saying something.

"Unless you think about that sort of thing," Arthur tacked on.

"You're a great guy, Artie, but I don't think about you doing that, sorry," Alfred said, smirking.

Arthur only nodded, busying himself with thrilling leaf extraction.

"I mean, you don't think about me doing that… do you?" It had just fallen out of his mouth; Alfred was clueless as to why he'd said something so weird and he regretted it the moment he'd blurted it out.

Arthur's eyes went wide and frenzied. "Wha-what? No, of course I don't –"

As he stammered, he jolted away from Alfred and the movement knocked the precious plant off the ledge. The shatter of the plant pot sent the entire class into silence and Arthur looked close to tears.

-/-

"Where's your boyfriend, Kirkland?"

"Have you told him you want to have his babies yet?"

"Fag!"

Alfred squared up to the three Slytherins, fingers curling, ready to land a solid punch, and his body taut with adrenaline.

"You got anything else to say?" he demanded.

Their eyes ducked to the floor and they shuffled back from Alfred who was a head taller than all of the idiots.

"Didn't think so." They scurried away without any more prompting and Alfred joined Arthur.

"Don't listen to those jerks, Artie; some of the guys in your house are real dicks."

"I don't know need you to fight for me. I can stand up for myself and I managed just fine before you showed up. When you threaten them like that, it only encourages them for the next time I'm alone," Arthur argued, stomping away from Alfred.

They'd had this argument before.

"I know, I'm sorry." Alfred caught up with the Slytherin and took hold of his arm. "I know you can stand up for yourself, believe me, I just lose it when they start acting like that."

Arthur sighed, his body deflating, and he rubbed his eyes. "I know, I'm sorry for snapping. I'm always a little high-strung before Christmas; everything's such a bloody headache with my family."

"Yeah, a little high-strung," Alfred joked.

"Shut it."

They walked in amiable silence until they reached an empty corridor and Arthur swivelled on his heel in front of Alfred, effectually stopping the American.

"Arthur?"

They were in close proximity of each other and Alfred could almost feel Arthur's pounding rabbit-pulse under his skin. He wasn't meeting Alfred's eyes – a sure indicator he was nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

"I need to talk to you about something," he said, voice small.

"Shoot."

"Alfred, I –" his breath spluttered out of his mouth.

"You're freaking me out, Artie, what's wrong?" Ever so softly, Alfred took Arthur's chin in his hand and raised his head so Alfred could see his eyes, the irises absorbing any available light like a fireflies to a flame.

"What do you think you are to me?"

He didn't know what he expected but it wasn't that. Alfred considered the Slytherin's question, turning it over in his head. "I'm your friend. We're friends, close friends, right?"

"Yes, and no."

"No? We're not friends?"

"I don't like girls, Alfred."

Alfred's blank stare steered Arthur onwards but the penny was already dropping and Alfred didn't know what to do.

"I like boys. I like you." Arthur stammered, exhaling the weight of that which he had left unsaid for so long. "I more than like you but I can't say – I don't want to… not when I don't know if you…"

"Hey." Alfred smoothed his thumbs over the supple skin of Arthur's chin, drawing figures of eight. "Damn!"

"What?" Arthur asked, his tenor sharp with horror.

"I forgot, I'm late for a meeting with the Headmaster. Damn damn!"

It was cruel of him to leave Arthur hanging like this, with his heart dangling in front of Alfred, suspended on an unravelling piece of string, but Alfred couldn't skip the meeting.

"I'm going to have to go, I'm so sorry, Arthur, I am. Please don't think that I'm running away – I'm not. I'm shocked and I don't really know what to say yet but I'm not gonna leave it like this. Wait here for me, okay? Promise me."

A film of melancholy clouded Arthur's face but he agreed nonetheless. "Alright."

"No, say 'I promise', please."

"…I promise."

"I'll be back as soon as I can! Don't move!"

Alfred broke into a sprint, determined to return to Arthur as soon as humanly possible. He erupted into Professor Wang's office, nearly taking the door clean off its hinges.

"Hello Alfred," the Headmaster greeted with his typical atmosphere of serenity.

"Hey Professor," he panted, not bothering to sit down. "Anything new?"

"It's fixed."

Alfred sat down. "…seriously?"

"How many jokes have I made since you've known me?"

"Uh, one, I think? I still don't get it and I don't know if it was actually a joke."

The Professor rolled his eyes, humoured. "As you can see, it is fixed." He passed the time-turner to Alfred. "Unfortunately, it is only the physical appearance that has changed. Whether the object holds its original magic remains to be seen."

"How do we find out?"

"That's up to you, Alfred. In this instance, you are the time-turner's master and only you can use its magic."

Alfred swallowed, his insides going dizzy. He should be ecstatic; he should be jumping for joy. He could finally return to his own time and see his family and friends again. It had been so long since he'd talked to Mattie or Gilbert or Elizaveta or his parents. He could go back and complete his Auror training. Find a nice girl to marry.

He was glad that the time-turner was potentially working again; in fact, his body had filled with relief. This small trinket was, in essence, the key to his home, his world.

But Arthur.

Arthur was waiting in that hallway, for Alfred, with his heart in his hands.

Alfred hadn't realised how much he felt for Arthur until he'd made contact with the time-turner. He didn't know if he thought of Arthur that way, Alfred hadn't even fathomed it. He liked girls; he had always liked girls and that was the way it was. Yet, if he liked girls so much, why was he so anxious to discover what it would be like to kiss Arthur, to touch his skin, to hold his hand…

Arthur, with his soft-burning beauty and intricate warmth, much like an everlasting sunset.

"Do you think it'll work?"

"Honestly…" The pause was heavy, poignant. "No. I cannot sense a magical signature on the time-turner any more. What you have in your hand is simply a necklace."

Alfred regarded it, the dainty metal cupped in his palm, seemingly powerless. Almost definitely powerless in Professor Wang's opinion. Alfred didn't think it would work either. A nine year jump is an anomaly, a blip in the universe, and that meant there was a fault. Alfred's journey could also be the time-turner's last journey.

Arthur…

It wouldn't work. He had to confirm it.

Alfred unthinkingly turned it once, twice, three times. His breath snagged, his muscles seized.

Nothing.

Professor Wang sat across from him, his fingers formed in a steeple against his cheek, with an unreadable expression. He hummed.

"I'm sorry, Alfred, I really am. Time is–"

"Fickle?"

Professor Wang indulged him with a sorrowful smile. "Yes. Perhaps meddling with it was never a particularly clever idea."

Alfred slipped the chain over his head. "I know we have a lot to talk about but there's somewhere really important I have to be. I'll come back here as soon as I can."

"Very well."

"Thanks, sir."

Alfred was almost out of the door when Professor Wang spoke again.

"Alfred."

"Yeah?"

"Despite what some might say, it would be foolish to think time heals all wounds, in some cases it only serves to worsen them. That isn't to say, though, that those wounds can't be healed by other means."

You really like your mysterious final words, don't you, Professor Wang?

"Thanks, Professor."

Alfred ran. He still didn't know he would say but he knew the words would come to him once he was face to face with Arthur. At the very least, he would let Arthur know he reciprocated his feelings, even if it was unfamiliar territory for Alfred.

Alfred ran and ran and his footfalls seemed to become lighter, useless, with each step he took until he couldn't hear the beat of the soles of his shoes against the stone floors. The air went thin and vertigo slammed into him.

He reached the corridor, his balance unsteady.

Arthur wasn't there.

He could hear whispers floating up from one of the alcoves and as he drew closer, he started at the faces he knew well and hadn't seen for three weeks.

"Gilbert? Elizaveta?"

"Alfred! Hey bud, where've you been? I haven't seen you since our DADA class. Guess what?" Gilbert said, shimmering with pride. "Elizaveta's my girl now! How awesome is that! Who's chicken now? Al… are you okay?"

"Alfred? You've gone really pale," Elizaveta observed.

"I've gotta go," he breathed, turning away and sprinting desperately.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

"No, god, Arthur, I'm so sorry…"

Alfred raced through the school, stumbling up stairs and colliding into various students, frantically hunting Arthur.

Arthur, the boy he had left hanging for nine years.

Everything made sense.

Everything made lucid sense and Alfred's nervous system flooded with guilt and terror. Arthur – Professor Kirkland – had hated all this time because Alfred had never come back that day before the Christmas holidays. Because Alfred F. Jones had rejected him at his most vulnerable.

He hadn't meant to. The time-turner wasn't supposed to have worked. It wasn't fair.

Alfred found Arthur in a congested hallway, depleting points from a snogging couple of Hufflepuffs.

Alfred's heart tightened at the sight of him. He was lovely and bitter and he couldn't stand the sight of the boy that had cut the piece of string his heart had been offered on.

"Arthur!"

He had Arthur's attention instantly, as well as all the students surrounding him.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for addressing a Professor inappropriately, Mr. Jones."

"Arthur, please –"

"That's ten more points."

"I don't care about points, please just listen–"

"Detention, Mr. Jones!" Arthur seethed, glaring into Alfred's eyes with the white-hot resentment Alfred finally understood.

"Artie," he implored.

"Don't you dare call me that!" Arthur's voice cracked and his eyes glazed.

Alfred collected all of his strength, gripped Arthur's forearm and led him away from the dumbstruck students. He hurried towards the closest vacant room. Arthur struggled, thrashing around and demanding for Alfred to unhand him, he was that defensive wild rabbit again, entrapped by Alfred. The Gryffindor remained steadfast until he had dragged them into an undisturbed courtyard.

"How dare you!"

"I'm sorry."

"I want nothing to do with you; I don't care what you have to say!"

It hurt, hot and cutting, to hear Arthur say that, it knocked the air out of him and he felt disorientated with the turmoil of emotional pain.

He hadn't thought about the possibility of Arthur rejecting him.

"I had every intention of coming back –"

"No, you didn't," Arthur cut in, low and dangerous. "No you did not. You turned the time-turner in the Headmaster's office. Don't think I don't know. The Headmaster told me everything after I poured my heart out to him. You turned the time-turner before you saw me, you didn't even think about me – you just did it! Do you have any idea what it was like having to explain everything that had happened to Professor Wang or learning that you'd returned to your own time without even saying goodbye or to have to see you three years later as a child who had no clue who I was?!"

Tears beaded down Arthur's cheeks and he panted for mouthfuls of air.

"You humiliated me."

"I'm so sorry, Arthur, I am. I didn't turn the time-turner without thinking about you; I turned it wishing it wouldn't work. I just wanted to prove that it didn't so I could go back to you!"

"I don't want to hear it, Alfred–"

"But you have to! You have to give me a chance. I want to be with you, Arthur. That's what I wanted to tell you, I ran back to tell you but I didn't make it."

Arthur slouched, curling in on himself, looking defeated and so very tired. It was clear he had been waiting for this encounter for a long time and it wasn't going how he wanted it to. The fight had left him.

"You know I'm an idiot, you know I can't see things even when they're right in front of my face. I wish I'd figured out how I felt about you sooner." Alfred sighed. "I know it's been only been ten minutes for me and nine years for you, but, whether you still like me or not, I want you to be happy. Tell me how I can make you happy."

Arthur gazed at the floor, his tears collected at the tip of his chin. He didn't speak.

"If it means not seeing me again, tell me. I'll leave you alone if that's what'll make you happy."

The Englishman bit down into his lip and visibly gathered himself, fluttering his eyelids to ward off the tears. Alfred wanted to hug him, to rock him back and forth until he forgot to cry. Arthur was shaking his head and Alfred didn't understand.

"Arthur?"

"Don't leave," he whispered.

Gingerly, Alfred leant into Arthur, making his intentions clear. Arthur observed him with those crystalline eyes and his body strained like an arrow poised in its bow. He could have bolted, he could ducked out of the way, he could have told Alfred to stop and Alfred would have stopped but he didn't and so Alfred kissed him, careful and slow, guiding Arthur into reciprocating. And he did.

The kiss dissolved into desire, feverish and surging. Alfred took Arthur's face in his hands and kissed him until they were smiling and couldn't process oxygen fast enough.

Arthur exhaled, the current of air tickling Alfred's lips.

"I didn't want to forgive you," Arthur huffed.

"You don't have to, I don't expect you to. I just need to know the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you."

"I wish you had come to me before using that sodding time-turner."

"…will you still have me, Artie?"

"I'm your teacher, Alfred, this is forbidden. I'd lose my job and it would completely devastate my reputation."

"You've waited nine years; can you wait seven more months? I know it's a lot to ask and, believe me, I don't want to wait – part of me wants to drop out of school – "

"Don't you dare, Alfred Jones," Arthur admonished.

Alfred sifted his hand through Arthur's hair and pressed his lips to the Englishman's forehead. "Will you? Have me?"

"Of course I will, you prat."

-/-

Yao's smile was wide and decadent as he broke the seal of the invitation he'd received in the post.

You are cordially invited to celebrate the wedding of

Alfred F. Jones

and

Arthur Kirkland

On Saturday, December 1st 2020

Finishing the last of his tea, Yao glanced at the time-turner pendant from his neck. Time was fickle, indeed, but it certainly had a sense of humour.

Another big thank you for the reviews!

Also, a special thanks to Bob who pointed out that Matt Smith wouldn't have even played his part as The Doctor in 2006 - I didn't even think about that! I'm so sorry! This is why I'd make a terrible time-traveller (and I shouldn't write until 5 AM). I won't change it at this point but thanks for letting me know.