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Hogwarts - First year 

Max finds his wand on the first try. Well, that might not be completely accurate – the wand chooses him on its own accord. It shakes inside the wooden box it’s packed away in, tired of waiting for its owner, and frees itself, flying past a shell-shocked Ollivander and right into Max’s still tiny hand. 

Dragon heartstring, rowan wood, thirteen inches. Way too big for Max’s ten-year-old chubby fingers, but apparently long enough for his dad. Jos nods, satisfied, as Max examines the curvy designs carved in the handle. The bigger the better, he says.

A flustered Ollivander tiptoes his way around them. “Dragon heartstring, yes, a most powerful core. Willing to change allegiances, usually, but it should bond pretty strongly to you as its current owner. Seeing as… Well”, he says, gesturing towards Max. He doesn't mention that dragon wands tend to be the easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, and the most temperamental. He doesn't, because the core of the wand contradicts the nature of its vessel. 

A most interesting piece indeed, Ollivander thinks. 

He continues. “And, ah, rowan wood, yes, quite uncommon. Protective of its wizard, but strong in duels. A wand for the pure-hearted.”

Ollivander nods. Contradictory and volatile, but noble. Good. 

No Dark witch or wizard has ever owned a rowan wand. 

—

Max is eleven, and his robes drag against the stone floors as he sneaks out of the cold, wet dungeon that serves as the Slytherin common rooms. It’s the dead of the night, but he can't sleep, so. He’s been talking to the portraits on the Grand Staircase to try to extort Hogwarts secrets out of them, even though nobody else seems to bother, for some reason. Max doesn't get it – the portraits have been there forever. No one knows more than them. So even though they’re probably asleep, he might as well try nagging them for a little while. 

He casts a disillusionment charm by twirling his wand around himself, as if he were wrapping his own body in rope, tighter and tighter. It’s an advanced spell, way too advanced for a first year by all accounts, but Max has been practicing magic since he was eight, with his father's wand. Jos always warned him not to tell, not anyone and not ever. His wand always felt fussy and unreliable in Max’s hand. 

Sophie finds out when Max accidentally sets their house study on fire at age nine. There's yelling, afterwards, and Max takes Victoria upstairs and distracts her by casting Lumos and making shadow puppets with his hands. His mom and sister move out not too long after. 

But now at eleven, Max feels much more comfortable with his own wand. He’s breezing through his classes, and already they're talking about maybe having him try a few electives with second years. Jos seems pleased, so that's good. 

He doesn't make it to the Grand Staircase.

“Revelio!”

Max’s charm dissipates, no longer blending into the background.

Daniel is eighteen, a seventh year and the Gryffindor prefect, and simply happened to be on patrol duty that night. His wand is unicorn hair, alder wood, ten inches. 

A core prone to consistent magic, faithful and easily attached. A wand well suited for non-verbal spell work, whose ideal owner is helpful, considerate and likeable. Max will hold it in his hands years later, running the pads of his fingers reverently along the wooden knots and holding in the sick impulse to wrap his lips around it and lick it, suck it, wondering if he would be able to taste Daniel’s magic that way. 

At eleven though, charm failed, Max freezes and then blinks furiously when Daniel shines a light in his face.

“Where the hell do you think you're going, mate?”

“Uhm. I got lost?”

Daniel’s eyebrow arches in clear disbelief. “In the middle of the night?”

“Uhm. I sleepwalk. Sometimes.”

Max fights the urge to shrink under Daniel’s gaze, who is still a nameless prefect at the time. He’s staring at Max with a weird expression, half annoyance and half interest. Maybe a bit of amusement as well. 

“Right. Wanna tell me who taught you a disillusionment charm at your age? Cause it sure as hell wasn't Flitwick.”

Daniel ends up deducting five points from Slytherin but walking Max back to his common room, turning to speak to him when they make it to the door. 

“Listen, Max”, he says. Max gave him his first name, but not his last. “You can't be sneaking out at night, alright? The castle can be dangerous.”

“Is that why you're patrolling the halls?”

There seems to always be a smile perched on Daniel’s lips. Even in this short time, Max notices. “I’m patrolling the halls so no pesky first years will get stuck in a moving staircase at three am.”

Max wants to fight, but then he looks up at Daniel and the desire to just… Drains out of him. 

“Go to bed, Max. And don't let me catch you sneaking out of bed at night again. Or maybe do, if you absolutely have to. I’m not as bad as the other prefects.” He winks and smiles again. Max mutters this fortnight’s Slytherin password and walks back into the common room. 

—

Daniel is the Seeker for Gryffindor. Max watches from the stands, wrapped in his green scarf, Jos by his side, as Daniel chases after the snitch. It’s only the Hogwarts Cup, but it could be League, with how beautifully he’s flying.

He’s steady on the broom, but quick, the quickest, like he doesn't weigh a thing. He’s moving too fast for Max to see his face clearly, zooming around the rings and over their heads, up and then down, a blur of fluttering dark red robes. 

Jos sneers as Daniel divebombs, trying to fight off the Ravenclaw seeker. He spits, only loud enough for Max to hear, “Filthy mudblood.” Max’s blood freezes. 

Only moments later, the crowd erupts in cheers. When Max looks up Daniel has stilled, his face all teeth. The golden snitch is trapped in his gloved fist. 

—

First years have mandatory flying lessons. Max looks around at the few kids still struggling to call their broom, and the many more that lose control of it more often than not. 

He holds onto his own with a firm grip, kicks the ground and takes off. 

—

Hogwarts - Third year 

By the time Max is thirteen he’s already taking most of his classes with the fourth years, even though he’s still in his third. It’s fine most of the time, although he can't be said to be exactly popular. Pierre is a true fourth year student, and he’s Charles’ friend, so Max hangs around him when they share a lesson. He seems to tolerate him. 

“You spend too much time with Gryffindors”, his father says. “Get yourself decent friends before they drag you down.” By decent he means Slytherin. Pure blood, good houses. 

He tries making friends with Lance during one of their first visits to Hogsmeade. He’s only a second year but has somehow managed to get permission to join in on the trips, as long as he’s always supervised by another student who’s of age. He explains how his father intervened in his favor with a self-sufficient smile that reminds Max of his own dad. Over his shoulder, Esteban, his self-appointed chaperone, makes comments here and there. He’s also a fourth year, like Pierre. Pierre hates him. 

Still, Max invites them over to the Three Broomsticks and orders Butterbeer for all of them. It's the first and last time he makes the effort. 

—

Hogwarts - Fourth year 

When Max is fourteen, they get a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The Headmistress says so in the Great Banquet, which probably explains the murmurs going around the tables. Max doesn't give it much thought. 

Except when he looks up and scans the teachers' table, he finds Daniel sitting there. 

He’s already smiling again, even more beautiful than Max remembers. The mess of curly hair is still there, but his teeth are more even and straight now, a shadow of a beard ghosting his jaw. Bathed in the light of the floating candles, his skin looks golden tan. Max wants to walk over and stand in front of him, to take in all the small details he’s missing by sitting so far away. 

“A few words, please, professor”, the Headmistress requests, making Max tune back into her yearly speech. When Daniel gets up the murmurs get stronger. 

“Okay, wow. Professor Webber was easy on the eye, but. Damn”, says the girl sitting on Max’s left. 

“Thank you, everyone, and thank you, Headmistress. I promise to keep this short, seeing as I have the attention span of a goldfish.” Laughter sweeps through the tables, as well as a few of the other professors. Daniel is still immediately likeable. “Alrighty. Like the Headmistress said I’ll be your new teacher for D.A.D.A. starting this semester. My goal is simple: to help you all keep yourselves, and each other, safe. I know you have potential and I know you have walls that keep you from it. I look forward to working with all of you to tear those walls down”, he says, bringing his hands together in front of himself. His eyes move from one table to another, an equal measure of time and attention split across the four Houses. 

A part of Max wishes Daniel would look at him, but he knows that's impossible. He’s one amongst hundreds. 

With one last smile, Daniel says, “Thank you all in advance, because I will learn from you as much as you’ll learn from me. And now please begin eating before your food gets cold and you start hating me already.”

The applause that follows is easy, quickly-earned from the students. Max takes a beat longer to join, too caught up in the amber brown of Daniel’s eyes. 

—

Max’s not hiding. He doesn't hide amongst the fifth year Slytherins when Daniel walks into their first D.A.D.A. class. He’s just mingling. 

Anyway, Daniel doesn't pay him any special attention. Their eyes lock once during roll call, right after Daniel calls out ‘Verstappen, Max’ and Max replies ‘Here’. He’s the last name on the list, even though it’s supposed to be in alphabetical order and there's a couple Ws in the class, because he’s not supposed to be in this grade. So they just add him at the end, like an afterthought. 

It’s an introductory lesson, just running over the curriculum. A few jinxes, protective enchantments, Boggart revision. Preparation for the O.W.L.s, mostly. 

“However, my goal is to make the classes as practical as possible. Yeah, yeah, we all want to pass the exams with flying colors, but a test won't save your life when you need it.” Max agrees. 

He’s half-relieved and half-disappointed that nothing has happened by the time the bell rings, already trailing out of class behind Ocon, when he hears, “Verstappen! A moment, please.” When Max turns, Daniel is looking straight at him, smiling.

Max tightens his hold on his textbooks and walks back in, moving around the rest of the students still milling about. A couple of Hufflepuffs shoot them a look, but they're mostly looking at Daniel, probably at the way he’s leaning on his desk, hands flat on the wooden surface of it. Max’s knees feel wobbly.

“Professor?”, he asks when he gets closer. His voice comes out pitchy and a little broken, and Max has to clear his throat. 

Daniel doesn't make fun of him for it. “Sorry for keeping you. Can I steal five minutes of your time?” Max’s got Divination next period. He could not give less of a fuck. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Daniel smiles wider. “Awesome”, he says, clapping his hands together. It echoes in the vastness of the classroom, the high ceilings and the bookshelves. “So. Your professors tell me you're taking the fifth year curriculum?”

Max nods. “As well as some fourth year classes. I already passed the rest.”

Daniel whistles. “Darn. A whole year early to your O.W.L.s, then?”

“That's the plan, yes.”

There's a mischievous glint in Daniel’s eye, and it makes Max’s heart start beating faster. “Well, what can I expect from someone who was already turning himself invisible in the first grade?”

There’s got to be a blush on Max’s cheeks. He feels too hot under his robes, the black and green tie too tight around his neck. “I didn't know if you remembered.”

“How could I not remember you? You almost sneaked past me. Successfully!” 

It’s a nice day outside. D.A.D.A. class is held in the Defence tower, and the classroom is littered with windows. Daniel's got all the blinds pulled up, so the autumn sun shines into the room and over them lightly. It’s a good backdrop for this memory. 

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Nah, you're not. No use in lying, Max.” Max savors the sound of his name in Daniel’s soft accent. “Now, listen. I spoke to the Headmistress and she agreed”, he says. 

“Agreed to what?”

“Well, honestly? If my suspicions about you are correct, I don't think you'll find our curriculum very challenging”, Daniel says, and he’s right. “I’d like to offer tutoring hours. Just me and you, working on some tougher spells. Revision for anything you need for the O.W.L.s if necessary, but I was thinking about skipping ahead to sixth year topics, mostly.”

“Yes.” Max’s mouth is moving before he can think about it. Daniel laughs. 

“Well, think about it, alright? Your schedule is already packed, mate. I hear you play Quidditch as well?”

“I do.” 

“What position?”

“Seeker.”

“Oh, I used to be a seeker too.” Max knows. A voice inside of him whispers, Eager to please. 

“The answer is still yes.”

—

Daniel makes time for him after Max’s classes are done, sometimes even after practice. As a result it’s usually dark already by the time Max ends up walking to the Defence tower, all the candles already lit and floating wherever they're needed.

The classroom looks pretty much the same as it did back when Professor Webber taught here, big and elegant and a little empty, although there's several clues of Daniel’s presence. The biggest giveaway is a bright yellow banner hung on the wall over his desk, reading ‘Thundelarra Thunderers’. 

Daniel catches him looking once. “Ever seen them play?”

Max shakes his head. “No.” Max is not caught up with the Australian League, to be honest. Maybe he should be, if Daniel follows it. They could talk about the games. “How’s the season going?”

“Terribly, as usual. Warriors are beating our ass big time”, he says, but good-naturedly, like a fan who’s used to seeing their team lose time and time again. “But I won't lose faith. Not now, not ever.”

The following year Daniel will offer Max an extra ticket for a game. ‘Someone flaked out on me. Wanna come see real Quidditch?’ Max will say yes. 

Daniel’s friends will look at Max weird, and Max will overhear one of them asking ‘Why the hell are we babysitting a fifteen year old?’ Daniel will shush them and then ask Max if he would like to get binoculars and something to eat. 

The Thunderers will lose the game, but Max will join Daniel in each and every exclamation, comment and insult against the referees. He’ll have the time of his life. 

Back at fourteen, Max walks up the stairs towards his first extracurricular lesson. He’s been jittery all day, paid absolutely no attention in History of Magic, even though it’s one of his favorite classes. Pierre had caught him staring off into space one too many times, enough for him to float a tiny note over to his desk asking ‘Are you okay?’ Max had waved his concern away. 

He can't do anything about the flush he knows is over his cheekbones, but he can keep his posture straight and his shoulders up. 

“Professor?”

When he walks in Daniel is seated at his desk, writing on parchment with a cream-colored quill. He looks up when he hears Max. “Max! Welcome. Come in, come in.” The quill keeps writing by itself with a flick of Daniel’s fingers. 

His robes are laid over a nearby chair, which means Daniel is in casual clothes. Well, “casual” – slacks and a shirt, vest and tie. Max’s gaze runs over the cut on his shoulders, the slight curve of his waist. Only for a second. 

He returns his eyes to Daniel’s face when he speaks. “How are you, mate? Did Binns bore you to death?”

Max shrugs. “It was okay. I actually don't mind History of Magic.” Professor Binns is alright, for a ghost.

“Really? I used to fall asleep like, once a week.”

“Because you have the attention span of a goldfish?” Daniel stares, mouth open, and Max thinks Ah, I went too far. Already fucked up.

But then Daniel laughs. It’s loud, honking and contagious. 

“Yeah, I guess that one’s on me. I can't control my mouth when I have to speak in front of people.”

“I thought you did well. They liked you.”

“Did they, now? Good to know. Sometimes people can get a little… Unwelcoming, with fellows like myself. So I’m glad the kids like me”, Daniel replies, and he looks at Max like he heard the unspoken I like you. Max has to look away. “Well. We’d better get started.”

—

They have their tutoring lessons twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, sometimes Fridays instead if Max has extra Quidditch practice. The season starts soon enough, and then Max is juggling classes, the O.W.L.s, studying and flying, on top of late nights in the Defence Tower. 

“I saw your game against Hufflepuff the other day”, Daniel mentions off-handedly on a Tuesday. They’ve been working on the Imperturbable charm, although Daniel says Max is not flicking the wand quite right. Max is stretching his wrist.

“Oh.” Slytherin won the game, but only because the Chasers did an excellent job that day. Max didn't manage to catch the snitch, barely spotting it out of the corner of his eye a couple of times. He needs to be better, faster – this was Hufflepuff, but it won't be as easy against Gryffindor next weekend. Charles is as good a seeker as Max, if not better, sometimes. Jos keeps reminding him.

As if sensing Max’s disappointment, Daniel nudges his shoulder. It feels like a flash of warmth, there and quickly gone, leaving Max suddenly aware of the cold he didn't know he was feeling. “Hey. You did good. It’s not your fault they kept fouling you every two seconds.”

Max’s fingers wrap tighter around his wand. “I almost took a Bludger to the head. I need to be faster.”

The warmth returns, this time in the form of a hand on Max’s shoulder. All of Max’s awareness focuses there. “You’re a good flyer. Trust me, Max. If you keep it up, you could probably go professional in a couple of years.”

Max imagines it for a second. Himself, older and stronger, posing for a team picture. A uniform, professional brooms. 

“Do you think I could get into the Thunderers?”, he asks, and Daniel laughs, tightening his hand minutely on Max. The desired effect. 

“Let's start with a European team, yes? Closer to home.” Max is not sure whether he means Hogwarts or Max’s own home. 

Daniel’s hand leaves as he reaches for his pants pocket, retrieving his wand and using it to light a few of the candles that have already burned away. It’s getting late. Max should offer to leave and keep practicing in his free time. Instead, he says:

“I’m gonna be an Auror though.”

Daniel turns around to look at him, eyebrows high in his forehead. “Oh. I’m not kidding when I say you could play Quidditch professionally. You’re good, Max.”

You’re good, Max. You’re good. 

“Thank you, professor. But I decided a while ago that I would be an Auror”, he says. “My father is too.”

For some reason Daniel’s expression dims. It’s not that noticeable, but Max spends a lot of time looking at him. 

“We’re gonna have to work on that Imperturbable Charm, then. And some more. A lot more.”

—

Max gives in that night, when he makes sure everyone else in his bedroom is snoring. He wraps a hand around himself and slots the other one between his teeth, careful not to make any noise. 

You’re good, Max. You’re good.  

He comes shaking, his hips twitching against the sheets. There's teeth marks imprinted into the skin of his fist when he uses the corner of the bedspread to clean himself. Distantly, shamefully, he hopes the house elves have seen worse.

—

Hogwarts - Sixth year 

At fifteen, Max is officially moved into the sixth year class. He’s no longer at the end of roll calls, but with the rest of the Vs, finally. Fortunately, the general consensus in Slytherin about his promotion ranges somewhere between indifference and admiration, which is good. Some Ravenclaws like to single him out when they have shared lessons.

The Slytherin passcode for the common room for the first week of the school year is Ambition. No one there singles him out. 

Max becomes a Slytherin prefect.

—

“Hey! Max. We’re going to Hogsmeade. You coming?”

Max lifts his head from the piles of textbooks he’s buried in, rubbing his eyes. He passed his O.W.L.s last year, of course – Outstanding grades in D.A.D.A., Charms, History of Magic, Potions and Transfigurations, Exceeds Expectations in everything else. But this just means that he has to prepare for the N.E.W.T.s now. 

Not easily deterred, Charles shakes Max’s shoulder. “Come on, mate, you’re already a whole year ahead of everyone else. You can take a break, yes?”

Max acquiesces. It’s cold outside when he follows Charles and Pierre out, wrapping his scarf around his neck more tightly. He feels like a green pinprick amongst Gryffindor red, though it gets better when Carlos and Lando join them: Ravenclaw blue and Hufflepuff yellow to balance them out. A colorful bunch. 

Hogsmeade is pretty any day, in Max’s opinion, even rainy, grey ones, so common there in the winter. But that day is even better: the sun is out, cool but bright, and a thick layer of snow gives the town a dreamlike quality. Like something out of a fairytale Sophie would read Max when he was little. 

They head straight to the Three Broomsticks, which is unfortunately pretty crowded by the time they manage to get their Butterbeers. Carlos talks about his Dueling club, and Charles about the hours he spent flying formations around the Quidditch pitch two days prior. 

“I’d have calluses on my hands if it weren't for the gloves”, he says, taking a sip from his drink and leaving behind a foam moustache. Carlos is the only one nice enough to gesture towards it, so Charles can wipe it away. 

Max does have calluses on the palms of his hands, especially the left one. He’s had them for as long as he can remember. You know, from holding on to the broom. 

Apparently Lando’s well on his way to flunking fourth year Potions and Pierre has just broken up with a Hufflepuff two grades below him. 

“What about you, Max?”, Lando asks. “Got anything going on lately?”

Max thinks about the late evenings spent in Daniel’s classroom, the bone-deep satisfaction every time he gets a spell right earlier than Daniel had anticipated. The approving tilt of his smile, the softs ‘Amazing, Maxy’. His dick twitches under all of his layers of clothing. 

Pierre laughs. “He’s got too much going on, I think. Asshole here is gonna win the House Cup by himself.”

Carlos ignores him, looking at Max. “How are the tutoring sessions with Professor Ricciardo? Are you still doing them?”

Max clears his throat. “Yeah, twice a week. And they're good. We’re working on some more advanced spells now.”

“He’s fun for a D.A.D.A. teacher”, Carlos agrees. “I hope he keeps the job for a while.” Everyone knows that Daniel’s position is basically cursed – Professor Webber was the longest lasting Defence teacher they’ve had in decades, and even he decided to call it quits eventually.

“He’s taken a liking to you, I think”, Lando adds, and since when does Lando make the effort to actually pay attention to people? “That man does not miss a Quidditch game. At least not if Slytherin plays.”

Carlos elbows him. “And how would you know?”

“Because I don't miss any games ever, period.”

That piece of information slots itself into Max’s brain, growing roots at an alarming speed. He needs to cut it out before he starts thinking that Daniel might be going to watch him, which would be stupid. 

He hides behind his Butterbeer. “How are your N.E.W.T.s coming along, Carlos? Not long until you graduate, now”, he says, and watches as Carlos starts ranting about being a seventh year and how much it sucks. 

Max takes a sip of his drink while he half-listens. His eyes meet Charles’ over the rim of his drink. 

—

The sixth year curriculum for Potions includes learning how to brew Amortentia, which is probably fairly irresponsible. But Professor Wolff wants to give them a taste of the kinds of potions they should be able to make after finishing their N.E.W.T.s, so one day he produces a gold-colored cauldron for them to examine.

“This is probably the most dangerous potion you will learn in all of your studies here at Hogwarts. Definitely the strongest and most dangerous love potion there is”, he explains. “But do keep this in mind: Amortentia does not create actual love, as this is impossible to manufacture. It will, however, hold the person who drinks it to something bordering on obsession.”

When Max peers into the cauldron he finds the potion to look fairly innocuous. Pretty, even, with a pearly sheen and steam wafting off in spirals. 

Wolff continues. “It smells differently to everyone. Go on, try it.”

“Oh”, Pierre exclaims when he gets his nose closer, inhaling audibly. “It’s like… The pie my mom makes and freshly-cut grass and… Something flowery? How can it smell like so many things at the same time?”

“I’ve no idea”, Max replies. He can't – he’s breathing very slowly, as deeply as he’s able. It’s almost like the scent is filling him up like a drink, making him dizzy.

“How does it smell to you?”

“Like clean laundry and… A broomstick handle.”

“Crazy, isn't it?”

“Yeah”, Max agrees, taking in one last big gulp before letting the next person try. 

The potion also smells like Daniel’s cologne. 

—

“What’s that?” There’s something rectangular and black sitting on Daniel’s desk, like a paperweight of some kind. Max taps it with his wand and it lights up, revealing a static picture of a smiling older couple with a woman. It sounds like metal. 

“Careful! Don't charm it, please.” Daniel runs to take the paperweight in his hands, flipping it and feeling the smooth surface with his fingers, like he’s searching for damage. 

“I didn't – I didn't spell it. Don't worry.” Sorry, Max should be saying. 

“It’s alright.” Daniel clicks a button on the side of the thing, revealing a 24 hour clock. It’s a Muggle phone, Max realizes. 

“Oh. I didn't realize it was – Why does it look like that?” The phones on his Muggle Studies textbook didn't look like that. So thin and slim and… Portable. 

Daniel holds it in his hand, pressing the button again so the phone goes black. “When was the last time you saw a mobile phone, Max?”

Max hesitates to say. He knows Charles has a phone, but he never uses it, at least not in front of Max. They just don't seem necessary in Hogwarts. That's what owls are for. “Uhm. We read about them in class?”

Daniel sighs, but he doesn't lose his smile. “Would you like to see it?”

The phone is lukewarm when Max takes it, half-encased in plastic. For protection, he guesses. He taps the screen and the picture appears again, displaying what Max can identify with a fair level of confidence as Daniel’s family. He always forgets how still Muggle images are. How… Lifeless. 

“Careful now. It’s pretty much brand new.”

Max runs the pad of his forefinger over the edge of the device. “Do you call your family with it?”

“Yeah. Although reception fucking sucks up here.” Daniel gives a little twitch, most likely realizing he just cursed. “Sorry for the language.”

“I don't give a fuck.” Daniel laughs, and Max feels warm inside, enjoying the sound. “Is this them?”

Daniel’s smile gentles. “Yeah. My parents and my sister.”

“Oh. I also have a sister.” Daniel’s head tilts a little. 

“Is she also Slytherin?”

“She doesn't go here.” Max thinks about the last time he saw Victoria, for Christmas. He’s waiting for her to owl him back soon. “Beauxbatons”. 

“That's far”, is Daniel's reply, clearly unsure about whether or not he should pry further. Max saves him the trouble. 

“She used to live with our mom, and I lived with our dad, so. Different schools.” Jos said Hogwarts had the better spelling and charming curriculum, and that Beauxbatons wasn't fit for Max. Well, actually he made it seem like it wasn't fit for men, which… Max knows there are boys enrolled in the school. Victoria said.

He abandons that thought, coming back to the Muggle phone. “How does your family – Like, they know you’re a wizard. Right?” Max regrets the question as soon as it comes out of his mouth. 

Daniel comes from a Muggle family. He knows that. Jos made sure he knew that when Max told him he’d been offered the advanced tutoring sessions. 

“Oh yeah, they know. Only my closest family, though. Everyone else just thought they'd sent me to boarding school at eleven because I was an earthquake of a kid. Which isn't too far off from the truth, anyway.”

Daniel’s smile turns wistful. It can't be easy to hide such an important part of oneself to relatives and childhood friends. 

Max wants to ask a million questions, wants to know every little detail about Daniel’s experience, soak himself in his life.

“You can ask”, Daniel surprises him by saying, and whatever Max shows on his face is enough to make him chuckle again. “I can hear your gears grinding in that brain of yours.” He punctuates his words by reaching out and gently knocking on Max’s head, and Max can feel the cold metal of Daniel’s various rings against his scalp. 

“I don't wanna be rude.”

“It’s okay, I’ll tell you if you're being rude. It’s my duty to teach you.” That being said, Daniel lays back in his desk chair, crossing his hands on his lap. Max’s eyes are drawn to the fine bones of Daniel’s bare wrist, before moving down to the phone he’s still clutching. 

“How did you find out?”

“That I was a wizard?” Max nods. “A letter came in the mail, probably very similar to yours. Then when my parents threw the letter away, the Headmistress paid them a visit.” Sensing Max’s alarm, Daniel rushes to explain, “They thought the letter was a prank, you see. No one in my family has ever been a wizard or witch, that we know. So understandably my parents were a bit lost.”

“So your sister's a Muggle?”

“Yes, sir.”

Max considers Daniel’s words, then puts the phone down on the table. “Do you like being a wizard?”

That feels like an easy question, judging by the crinkling around Daniel’s eyes. “I fucking love it.”

—

Hogwarts - Seventh year 

At sixteen, Max gets a girlfriend. 

Probably not the best timing, considering he’s the youngest seventh year in the castle and that he’s buried in parchments most nights. Oh and also he masturbates thinking of his D.A.D.A. professor pushing him against the wall like, every night.

He pictures it in his head, incapable of repressing the images. Daniel holding him as they kiss, gentle but firm, tongue in Max and hand gripping the back of his neck. Max would gasp and keen and whine, anything to get Daniel moving, to keep him close. 

‘I got you. I got you, Max’, he would say, pressing their bodies flush. Max would give in to the urge to rub himself all over Daniel. ‘I’ll show you how to. Let me show you, baby.’

“Max. Max. Are you listening to me?” 

And Max is hard at the Three Broomsticks. Again. This needs to stop before somebody reports him for public indecency. 

Kelly is standing next to him, looking a little annoyed. She graduated a few years ago, so they can only see each other on the weekends. She still likes wearing snake accessories here and there, being a proud Slytherin like the rest of her family. Today it’s snake earrings, charmed to ondulate when she moves her head.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m tired”, Max lies. Well, maybe only half-lies. He is tired, now that he thinks about it. Max looks at his almost empty Butterbeer, and then at Kelly’s almost full one. “Wanna get out of here? I’ll make it worth your while.”

Kelly’s expression smooths out, giving way to a delicate smile. She hates this place, but she does like getting off. She’s teaching Max how to do it, his head between her legs and her hand pulling on his hair. 

It’s… okay, Max guesses. Wet. A little gross sometimes, but it seems to keep Kelly moderately happy. Then after she comes he’s quick to get himself off. He doesn't like her touching him too much – it breaks the illusion. 

He’s imagining things already, because he could swear that that honking laughter coming from the corner of the pub is Daniel’s, loud and ridiculous, and –

It is. There he is, dressed down and looking happily buzzed, laughing with Professor Vettel over glasses of something colorful and definitely alcoholic. As if sensing the weight of Max’s attention, Daniel’s head turns and finds him, eyes locking for a moment before smiling and waving. 

“Give me a moment. I gotta –”, Max starts, gesturing towards the tall table the professors are crowding around. He goes before Kelly can object. 

“Maximilian!” Daniel greets, smiling wide. He puts his arm around Max’s shoulders, bringing him close enough that Max can feel the heat of his body, smell the musk of him. He wants to bury his nose in Daniel’s neck, lick it and bite the collar of his shirt until he has enough of it. He stays carefully still instead, letting Daniel maneuver him. 

“Hi”, he croaks. He’s not sure whether to say Professor or Daniel, so he says neither. “Professor Vettel.”

“Mr. Verstappen”, he replies, not unkindly. Max likes the Transfiguration teacher. He’s one of the best in the world at what he does, as well as a renowned duelist.

“Whatcha doing here, Maxy? Don't I give you enough homework?” Max laughs, still a couple of inches shorter than Daniel and so close to him. He feels a little drunk, even though Butterbeer has little to no alcohol in it. “Do I need to work you harder?”

“Please, no. I barely get sleep at night.”

Daniel’s smile softens. “Less work, then?”, he asks, and it feels like a genuine question, like a genuine worry. Max rushes to smother it. 

“Nah. I can manage it.”

“Alrighty.” Daniel’s hold on Max’s frame tightens. The lines around his eyes crinkle further.

Max’s focus on Daniel is broken when Vettel speaks. “How’s the year going, Max? Other than my class, I mean. I know you're doing well in that one.”

“It’s going okay”, Max replies. “Challenging, but I need the credits.”

“Daniel here tells me you’re aiming for the Auror program”. 

“I am, sir.”

“And he’ll get in”, Daniel says, looking at Max. “He’s got the talent and the work ethic for it.”

Max swallows the words like a parched man being offered fresh water. “That’s high praise. Thank you.” 

He doesn't want to leave. He wants to stay here, under Daniel’s arm and on the receiving end of his smile, until the pub closes and he has to be physically kicked out.

Vettel speaks again. “And are you here with your friends?”

“Uhm, yeah. Well. No.” Max’s hesitation seems to pique Vettel’s interest. 

“So I guess the clearly irritated lady over there is your friend, slash not friend?” He gestures towards the table Max just came from, barely visible in the crowd. Kelly is still stood there, looking decidedly displeased. 

“Uhm. Yeah.”

“Oh, shit. Piquet?”, Daniel asks, looking over. His arm falls away from around Max’s shoulders.

He turns towards Daniel. “Do you know her?”

“Yeah. I mean, not personally, but we went to school at the same time, kinda. She was a year older than me, I think?”, Daniel trails off.

Silence falls over the table. After a few awkward seconds, Vettel fills it. “How did you two meet? If I’m not overstepping.”

“My dad knows her dad”, Max says, unwilling to give more details. 

The truth is that, last month, Max’s owl delivered a stack of mail right next to him as he was having breakfast. Said stack of mail contained a Howler, which was getting increasingly hotter and hotter the longer Max stared at it. 

“Oh, shit”, Lance said, looking over from a few seats down the table. “Better get that quick, man, before it explodes.” By the time Max did, the parchment was already smoking. It opened up to the sound of his father’s voice, yelling. 

The message was fairly well-written, all things considered, and fortunately, in Dutch. A complete rundown of Max’s current shortcomings in record time, encompassing too-risky maneuvers in his latest Quidditch game, his lack of wow-factor as a future Auror candidate, as well as his deplorable friendships in Hogwarts at the moment.

By the time the Howler burnt itself to ashes, the entire Hall was staring at him. Max simply breathed and continued eating, stabbing a piece of bacon with his fork and shoving it in his mouth. He didn't dare turn around to check who had been there to hear and who hadn't. He doubted many of them understood more than a few words anyway.

Lance had seemed to take pity, surprisingly, laughing awkwardly and saying, “Well, that's fathers for you, isn't it?”, even though Lance’s dad would buy him the entirety of Scotland if he asked for it and everyone knew. Eventually, conversations resumed and that was the end of that. 

Kelly showed up not long after, citing a connection to Coach Horner. Their… Relationship makes sense, Max thinks, if it manages to keep his father content.

That day in the Three Broomsticks, Daniel’s lips remain pursed and his eyes flicker between Kelly and Max. The atmosphere seems to have changed somehow, not easy anymore. 

Max leaves, trailing after a silent angry Kelly. He looks back over his shoulder towards the table before walking out the door, and meets Daniel’s eye. 

—

The following week, Max walks into the tutoring session to find Daniel discarding their work on Chameleon Ghouls. 

“If you want to be an Auror, I’ll make you an Auror”, Max finds him mumbling. “Right!” He turns towards Max, clapping his hands together. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, golden skin vying for Max’s attention. “You need something to impress in your N.E.W.T.s, so we’re gonna pull out the big guns.”

Interested, Max takes out his wand. “What do you have in mind?”

Daniel smiles. “Have you ever attempted a Patronus?”

Max has, to little avail. It’s the primary protection spell against Dementors and Lethifolds, so obviously any good Auror needs to know it. 

“I’ve tried spelling the incorporeal kind.” 

“And?”

Max grimaces. 

“Don’t beat yourself up, it’s like, ridiculously advanced magic. The vast majority of wizards and witches won't ever be able to produce a Patronus. Even the incorporeal variant is considered a mark of superior magical ability”, Daniel says, like he’s reading off one of his textbooks. 

“Can you do it? The corporeal kind”, Max asks, and Daniel grins. 

“Of course I can.”

Expectation gnaws at Max as Daniel stands straight and closes his eyes, staying uncharacteristically still. Max’s heartbeat marks the seconds until Daniel finally raises his wand and begins tracing circles in the air, tighter and tighter. Then he recites, “Expecto Patronum.”

A mist of bright, silvery light begins emanating from the tip of Daniel’s wand, shifting and turning in the air until it takes the shape of a… Badger?

The animal starts running in circles around them, leaving behind a trail of shivering light. The body is fairly long, but thick-set and broad across the back. Short and sturdy legs, claws and a tiny tail, small and flat head. Yeah, that's a badger. 

Max tries touching it the next time the Patronus runs past his head, and feels unfairly disappointed when his fingers go right through. The badger continues like nothing happened, settling on the floor next to Daniel like it hasn't found any immediate danger and is already bored. Annoyed, even, at being cast without a purpose.

“Up to your expectations?”, Daniel asks, looking intently at him. 

“I thought you were a Gryffindor?”, Max asks instead of complimenting Daniel, and succeeds in making him laugh. 

Daniel dispels the Patronus with a wave of his hand. “The Sorting Hat struggled with me. Maybe there was some Hufflepuff in my heart after all.”

“Show me how to do it. Please.” 

Max already knows the basics of it, but still lets Daniel run through the steps. 1) Think of a happy memory, the happier the better. 2) Perform the correct hand gesture, tight anti-clockwise circles. 3) Say the words. 

“Give it a try”, he says, coming to stand next to Max. 

Max breathes in and out once, focusing. A happy memory. Right.

He recalls last year’s final Quidditch game, when he caught the snitch that won Slytherin the Cup. The sweet victory of it, the cheers and the drinks afterwards. The congratulations from everyone, especially the ones who saw him play. Good job, Max. 

He turns his wrist and chants, “Expecto Patronum.”

Nothing happens. Of course.

Max ignores the embarrassment gripping his stomach and focuses again on the memory. He remembers the wind on his face as he raced after the snitch and the cold feel of the metal in his fingers. 

“Expecto Patronum!”

Still nothing. Not even a little bit of mist. 

Max huffs, bringing his wand down. “Why is it not working?”

“Calm down. That's normal, mate.” That does actually not help Max calm down. “The spell relies heavily on the caster’s mental state. You need to be in the right… Place, to cast it. If that makes sense.”

“I’m thinking a happy memory. Happy place. I don't understand.” Max is distracted from his misery when he catches Daniel biting his lip, arms crossed. 

“It needs to be something peaceful, I think. Something that makes you feel at ease”, he says. “If it helps at all, I usually think of my family.” He stares at Max for a few seconds before nodding to himself, seemingly coming to a decision. “Right. Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” It’s the truth. Daniel smiles with teeth. 

“Close your eyes.” 

Max keeps them open for a second, just because he can. Daniel’s eyes look darker in the candlelight of the classroom, but he knows them to be light brown. His pupils look big and dark like this. 

Daniel chuckles, pressing his thumbs lightly to Max’s eyelids. Max smiles and lets them close under the touch. “Come on, stop messing with my self-worth as a teacher.”

Closing his eyes feels… Vulnerable. Daniel stops touching him, but Max can still hear the faint sound of his breathing, knows him to be close. A shiver runs through his frame, uncontrollable. 

When Daniel speaks he sounds gentle and measured. Intimate. “Listen to my voice, Max. Focus on it. Let everything else fall away.”

Max wonders if this would work on anyone else, or if Max’s crushing want makes him the best test subject for Daniel’s teachings, so willing to attune himself to Daniel. 

“Empty your mind. It’s just me, alright?” 

Just him. Just Daniel, moving slowly to place himself behind Max, his voice in Max’s right ear. He shivers again, and he thinks Daniel can probably feel it. 

“Think of something that makes you happy. Not temporarily – something that makes you feel warm and sated.” One of Daniel’s hands settles on Max’s left shoulder, and the other one finds his hip, over the robes. Max’s breath hitches imperceptibly. 

“Breathe, I’ve got you. Bleed the tension out of your body. Stay in your head.”

He tries relaxing his muscles one by one, in groups. First his feet and legs, his hands, his arms, his back. His face goes last. 

“That's it.”

It’s surprisingly easy to retreat back into himself like this. The warmth he feels in his chest and in his belly, it feels like –

“Make it up in your mind if you have to. It doesn't have to be real, it only has to feel like it.” 

The image is startlingly clear in Max’s head. He’s older in this, a few years at least. His mom is there, making dinner, and a grown-up Victoria is leaning on the kitchen counter and she’s laughing because of something someone said –

And that someone is Daniel, age lines detailing his expression. He’s gesturing wildly with his hands while he tells a story that has Victoria in stitches, and Max smiles as he helps Sophie with the food. 

“You got it?” Max nods. “Now try again.”

Max keeps the image close, pulling it to the forefront of his mind. Then, once more, he lifts his wand and draws a circle with it, then another one and another one. “Expecto Patronum!”

When he opens his eyes, his wand is spilling a warm silvery light, condensing itself in the edges of… A lion. 

The body is big and elegant, with all the coiled strength of a cat. It shakes its mane twice, half-heartedly, seemingly unimpressed with the lack of threats, before it simply plops down on the floor and starts licking its paw. 

Max is too stunned to speak. It’s Daniel’s laugh that finally cuts through the silence, starting in stutters like a chainsaw before it flows in earnest. He switches his hold to grab Max by both shoulders, shaking him back and forth. 

“You did it!”

“I did it. I fucking did it”, Max says. One of his hands searches blindly for Daniel’s bare forearm, holding onto it like a vice. “I did it!”

When he turns around, Daniel is already there waiting for him with a smile that could light up the whole classroom. “You’re a fucking natural, Max.”

Max hugs him. Arms around Daniel’s neck, unthinking, holding on while Daniel gently, slowly, reciprocates by wrapping himself around Max’s ribs. “A lion, though? And right after you made fun of me for my Hufflepuff badger? The nerve.”

Max laughs. He should let go, but Daniel isn't pushing him away. He doesn't want to let go. “I guess I’m a hypocrite.”

“Nah. You just have hidden depths, that's all.”

Slowly, the Patronus fades, as Max’s mind stops focusing on it enough to sustain it. 

—

The day Max screws up he is just so fucking tired. He’s been spending so much time at the library that even Madam Pince has started to acknowledge him with a modicum of respect. Still not enough to allow Max to eat anywhere near the books, but… Not long now until the Head Librarian folds. 

He’s so fed up with studying and practicing that when Charles asks if he wants to go get shitfaced on daisyroot draught and shitty gin, he says yes, even though he has three research papers due in like, two days.

The whole thing is completely classless. Charles assembles the gang and they just sit in a clearing on the outskirts of the forest, drinking and barely eating and laughing until Max is genuinely afraid he’s about to piss himself. 

But he feels good. Like he’s swimming through water, slow but warm and a little dizzy but good. 

Laying there under the stars he rubs his eyes and groans. He’s so fucking horny he’s actively fighting the instinct to rub himself against the ground like a needy cat.

“Max? Max.” A hand starts pawing at his face where he’s laying on the floor. Max swats it away and groans again, annoyed at having to crack his eyes open. The sky above him is pitch black but someone must’ve turned on a couple lanterns, because he can see. 

Then Charles is in view. “Maaaax…” He flops until he’s half-lying on Max, and the weight of him feels dangerous on his stomach.

“Fucking – Get off, Charles.” He tries pushing Charles away, but his hands feel clumsy and Charles refuses to budge. 

“I wish. I want to get off, but he’s not here.”

Max is conscious enough to understand that Charles just said he. His mind supplies him with a picture of Carlos, who graduated last year, and how he and Charles were attached at the hip for like, four years straight. 

When Max doesn't say anything, Charles continues, “You have your weirdly old girlfriend but I don’t.”

He’s gotta –

Max sits up, dislodging Charles. The movement only makes him want to puke a little. “Go find someone to stick your dick in. I’m leaving.”

“Wh – Max! You can't go by yourself. It’s dark and you're drunk.” Max ignores him and gets up on fairly steady feet. Lando is completely passed out on the grass, and Pierre is discussing something with Oscar and Alex that Max can't be bothered to listen to. 

“I’ll be fine.” He fishes his wand from the waistband of his pants, then closes his eyes and thinks about Daniel. He whispers. “Expecto Patronum.”

Conversation is cut short as all eyes shift to the silvery lion that Max creates, which manifests as bright and wonderful as he remembers. After checking out the perimeter it turns to stare at Max, as if waiting for its purpose. 

“Guide me?” Max doesn't specify where to, but the lion seems to understand. He takes off walking slowly, sauntering back to the castle, and Max follows. 

“Max! What the actual fuck!” It sounds like Pierre. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow! Goodnight!” Max doesn't bother turning around. He wants to be back in the castle, he just – wants. 

He makes his way back as if in a daze, staring at his own feet as they move. One step, then the next, then the next. The hallways are deserted as Max traverses them, most of the portraits asleep in one frame or another. The only one that acknowledges him is the ghost of a woman Max isn't familiar with, who takes a look at him and says, “Youngsters these days. Get yourself to a proper bed, boy!”, before she floats away. Max shushes her. 

The lion walks him all the way to the Defence tower, disappearing into mist when Max tries the door and finds it open. It creaks as it gives way, revealing a shocked Daniel sitting behind his desk at the far end of the classroom. 

“Max?”, he asks, sounding visibly confused and blinking rapidly. “What the – Did I miss our session? What time is it?”

“No. No, you're okay.” They weren't even supposed to have tutoring that day. Max walks forward to the desk as he sees Daniel check the time on his Muggle wristwatch. 

“Fuck me, it’s late”, he mumbles, then looks up at Max with knitted eyebrows. “What are you doing here, mate? You should be asleep.”

Max shakes his head. Carefully, so it won't upset his stomach. “Don’t wanna.” It’s too hot in here, way too hot. Max takes his coat off and throws it over the back of the nearest chair, instantly forgotten. He still feels like he can't breathe. 

“O…kay, Max. If I didn't know better I’d say you were drunk. Are you drunk?” 

“Only a little. I feel good, I’m just… Tired.” Daniel’s expression smooths out a little. 

“Yeah, not surprising. You’re working very hard, mate. No one will blame you for blowing off some steam from time to time, I don't think. That being said.” Daniel gets up from the chair, stretching his arms out. He tilts his torso to one side and then the other, and the movement makes his shirt pull tight where it’s tucked in the waistband of his slacks. He sighs when he brings himself back from the stretch, and Max’s mouth salivates.

You have your weirdly old girlfriend. Max is not thinking about her at all. 

“Right. If you needed academic advice then I’m afraid it’s gonna have to wait until tomorrow. And if you were looking for companionship then I’m also afraid I’m an old man and I’m gonna hit the sack.” When Max doesn't move, it’s Daniel that walks around the desk and gets his coat, offering it back to him. “I’ll walk you to your dorm, come on.” 

There’s still a faint smile on Daniel’s lips despite everything. Max’s eyes zero in on it until it dims a little. 

“Max? Are you o–”

Max kisses him. Well, maybe it can't be considered a kiss kiss. It’s pretty one-sided.

He grabs Daniel by the back of his neck and puts his lips on his, closing his eyes as he goes. He doesn't register much more than the warmth of it and the fact that Daniel’s lips feel dry, and he’ll regret having been drunk for this, afterwards. He thinks Daniel’s hair had been a little tangled under Max’s clumsy fingers, maybe.

When he pulls away Daniel’s eyes are huge. Wide, like they're about to pop out of his face. Scared, even. 

No need to be scared, Max thinks. He’ll be seventeen soon, he’s not a kid anymore. He knows what he wants. They could – They could. 

When Max tries to pull himself closer again he’s stopped by Daniel’s hands on his chest. “Stop”, he says, and his voice sounds so deep and broken – “Max. I said stop.” 

Max stops. His body sinks with the weight of disappointment and shame, heavy in his belly. Maybe he will throw up after all. He allows Daniel to push him away and to disentangle them. 

“This… This is not right. Max, you need to go.”

“But – Daniel, I –”

“Professor, please. If you will.” The words are as definitive as the tone of Daniel's voice. Max wants to cry. Fucking embarrassing. “Go to your dorm and sleep this off. For both our sakes.”

Max goes, stumbling twice on the staircase that leads out of the classroom. It’s only when he makes it all the way down that he realizes he forgot his coat. Damn it. 

He starts crying in the middle of a random hallway. He can't help it. He wants to scream, to kick the head off the nearest marble statue, but all he manages are ugly sobs. At least he’s alone and no one’s there to see it. The stupid portraits can go fuck themselves.

His tears haven’t even begun to dry when he spots something out of the corner of his eye – a Patronus, shaped like a badger. It starts running back and forth, urging Max forwards. Defeated, Max dries his face with the sleeve of his shirt and follows it back to the Slytherin common room. He doesn't sleep.

—

The morning after, Charles comes over to the Slytherin table in the Great Hall and sits down next to Max for breakfast. A few heads turn to stare at him and the red detailing of his robes, but Charles just sneers back. 

“What?”, he taunts, and nobody tries to get him to leave. To Max he says, grabbing a piece of toast, “You look like shit, mate. Even worse than I do.”

Max doesn't have the energy to fight. He’s thinking he’ll hide in the library most of the day. 

Daniel’s not at the teachers' table when Max goes to have breakfast. He wants to see him as much as he doesn't. 

“It’s just the hangover.” By his side, Charles groans, dark circles under his eyes. 

“Fuck. I need to eat something but I really don't want to.” Max pushes a plate of greasy bacon over to him just to spite him. “Stop! Asshole.”

They eat in silence, accompanied by the chatter of the rest of the students. When Max gets up, Charles gestures to follow. 

“I’m gonna swing by the infirmary. Maybe I can convince Madam Pomfrey to give us a couple Pepper-Ups.”

“I can't go to the library with a Pepper-Up. What?”, Max asks when he sees Charles’ expression. He can't have steam coming out of his ears every ten minutes. “I need to study. I have a literal mountain of parchments to go through.”

“Yeah, yeah, mister year ahead. You look like death, but whatever.”

—

An owl delivers the note by midday. Max unwraps it with dread in his stomach, knowing already what he’ll read. 

‘... decided to suspend the N.E.W.T. level tutoring sessions until further notice. As for the regular seventh year curriculum…’

His coat is somehow delivered to his room, neatly folded on top of his bedspread. Max fists the fabric and then puts the whole thing away in his trunk. He’d rather freeze to death than see that coat again. 

It could’ve been worse, he guesses. If Daniel were cruel, he could've told Jos. 

—

“Vane, Emma.” Emma raises her hand and Daniel looks up to acknowledge her, checking her name on the attendance list. “Verstappen, Max.” 

Max doesn't say anything or move at all. Daniel’s eyes stay on the parchment, but he checks his name anyway. 

—

Max passes his N.E.W.T.s. Moreover, he obtains Outstanding grades in six different classes, even though the requirement for Auror training was five. Defence Against the Dark Arts is one of them. 

He gets accepted in the Auror recruitment program as planned, which means three more years of studying and on-the-job training. Jos is happy. 

So are his friends, who throw both him and Pierre a private graduation party. “Congratulations, mate. You earned it”, Charles says as he claps him in the back, and Max knows he’ll join the program as well in a year. Only the best make it, but Charles has what it takes, despite people being thrown off by his good looks. 

Sometimes it feels like Charles and Max were engineered and designed to be enemies. Max is glad that they're not. 

—

Auror Training

Auror training is hard, but that Max expected. The rhythm of classes is familiar though, even if they're taught at a completely different level than he’s used to. 

Jos tries to put himself forward as his mentor, but someone at the Ministry doesn't allow it. Instead, Max ends up with Alonso, who was apparently impressed with Max’s work in Resilience Training. He seems to enjoy fucking other people over for no apparent reason, but Max learns very quickly that, despite appearances or his age, few other wizards in the department are as skilled as him. 

“I just like to entertain myself”, he tells Max once. Max can respect that.

—

He gets two cats, which he purchases in the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley. Victoria insists, looking down at them cuddled up in their cage.

“Look how cute they are! Please, Max. Now that you live by yourself, you have to.” 

They're half-kneazle, which means that they are definitely bigger than your average cat, but since they're not full breeds at least Max doesn't need a license to handle them. Still, they look up at him with eyes that feel more intelligent than most Hogwarts students he ever encountered. 

They bond to Max, magically attuned to him now, his safety and his emotions. During the first year that Max has them, he only sees them hiss at Jos.

—

Victoria visits Hogwarts with the rest of her seventh year Beauxbatons class. They also invite Durmstrang, in an attempt to encourage cross-school collaboration now that the Triwizard Tournament is no longer being held. Max is sad that he misses it, and tells Victoria as much. Had it been a couple years prior Max would've been there to show her around in person. 

She has a blast anyway. They hold their own Yule ball and Victoria tells him all about the dress she wore and the Ravenclaw boy that took her as a date, and the castle and the stairs and Max the Great Hall is beautiful why did you never say –

“Oh, remember that teacher you used to talk about so much? The Defence Against the Dark Arts one?”

Max freezes. He tries to reign in the impulse to run to the Floo. 

“Yeah?”

“I met him! He was chaperoning the ball and I almost spilled punch on him”, she says, completely unaware of his brother’s sudden distress. “He was so nice. No wonder you liked him when you were at school, I wish my teachers were like that.” 

Max doesn't want to hear any of it, to be honest. He gets up from the couch, regretfully displacing one of the cats. “I’m gonna go get a glass of –”

“Oh, he asked about you.”

Max stills. 

“Did he?”

“Yeah. You know, if you were doing well and all that. Maybe you should send him a note or something.” 

“Yeah. Maybe.” 

Victoria frowns, noticing how one of the cats has raised its hackles. “I thought you'd be happy? I mean, he was your favorite teacher, right?”

Max breathes and composes himself. He smiles. “He was. Sorry, I was just thinking about something else. I’m happy to hear the professor is doing well too.”

He walks over to the kitchen to get that glass of water that he doesn't need. 

—

He participates in the All-England Wizarding Duelling Competition because Charles does as well, and a part of him will never be able to just stop competing against him. 

“What kind of name is this for a tournament anyway, Max? It’s so long.”

They don't actually duel each other, which is sad because Max was looking forward to kicking Charles’ ass. Anyway, Charles loses in the quarter finals, losing his balance for a split second before being hit with a Blasting Curse. 

Max loses the final against Hamilton. The roaring applause as Max lies on the ground, defeated, and Hamilton bows to the spectators makes him want to rip his own skin off. 

“You should be proud, my boy. Your form was excellent and your footwork quick. You were only missing a little bit of luck.” Flitwick is one of the judges for the tournament, and actually takes the time to find Max afterwards, still sitting in the Healing tent.

“Thank you, professor.”

“I mean it”, he says. “How about this: a few other Hogwarts professors are here as well to watch the tournament. Let us take you out for a celebratory drink!”

Other Hogwarts professors. Right after Max just took a public beating. 

He makes himself smile and bow his head to Flitwick. “My apologies, professor, but I’m afraid my freshly dislocated shoulder is still bothering me a bit. Thank you for your kindness, though.”

When Charles shows up to collect him, Max flees before anyone else can show up. 

—

Auror Service

When Alonso calls him in instead of sending written word, Max knows something's up. 

“A friend is cashing in a favor”, he explains. “Apparently they’re having a little trouble at Hogwarts with something confidential.” 

“What kind of problem? And how confidential?”

Alonso makes a face. “Probably a curse. And not super confidential, but it’s best if the students don't find out.” He hands Max a letter filled with crispy, elegant handwriting. The Headmistress’. “Basically, a room’s been sealed. A couple of teachers have tried opening it up and then been blown up in the process.”

Max’s stomach sinks. Surely – “The teachers. They’re alright?”

Alonso waves his hand. “They're okay. All stitched back up”, he says. Max feels like he can breathe again. “I want you to go check on it.”

Max stares, making an effort to reign in his tongue. “Why me, sir? It could be a good opportunity for a trainee”, he tries, but Alonso shakes his head. 

“If Hogwarts is requesting an Auror then it means the spell is tough. I trust you to handle it.” He smiles, then claps Max’s back. “Plus, you were there not that long ago. I bet a few people will be happy to see you. Think of it as a reward, yes? For your hard work.” 

Max doesn't. He’s an Auror now, truly. No pending learning or exams, four years of experience under his belt. He specialized in the Dark Arts, and he’s good at it – a faulty magic room in school isn't exactly his purview. 

But he swallows the words. “Yes, sir.”

—

When the day comes, Max is appalled to find himself nervous. Which is stupid. He’s twenty one years old, he graduated four years ago. He’s arguably the best duelist in Britain right now, well-versed in counteracting the Dark Arts. He’s got this. 

No one can Apparate into Hogwarts, so Max is granted permission to Floo directly into the Headmistress' office. She receives him with all of the warmth of a Scottswoman, just short of pinching his cheek. “My dear, welcome back”, she says, and Max can't help but smile. “It is always good to see a former student flourishing.”

Max feels a little… Loud in his red Auror robes, next to her gray ones. The Headmistress eyes them like she too agrees. “If you don't mind, dear, and I know this might be a rude request, would you mind wearing something a little less… Distinctive? We don't want the students to be alarmed.”

“Of course.” Max takes out his wand and charms his robes black instead of red. He does, however, leave the golden details and the badge intact. The badge is impervious to enchantments anyway, pure goblin gold. “Better?”

“Much, my dear.” 

And that's when Daniel walks in. Max turns to look at him, feeling like the air just got sucked out of the room, and their eyes lock.

“Madam?”

“Come in, Daniel.”

He looks good, is Max’s first thought. A little older of course, laughter lines more pronounced. His hair is shorter. Otherwise, he looks exactly the same he did on the day of Max’s graduation, the last time they saw each other. 

Daniel looks at Max too, eyes moving over him up and down and back up – but he doesn't seem surprised. He must’ve already known who they were sending. 

“Max”, he greets, and his face is a little strained but he’s smiling. He walks over to shake Max’s hand. It’s firm. Warm. “It is good to see you.”

“Likewise.” 

“Daniel will show you.” The Headmistress takes Max’s hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. “Anything you need, love, you let me know.”

“Thank you, Madam.”

Daniel holds the door open for Max. There's a quick awkward moment after he closes it back up in which he looks at Max, and Max looks back, and neither of them says anything. 

Max is a little taller now. Broader too, more than Daniel. That's something that's different now.

He clears his throat. “Can you show me what we’re dealing with?”

Daniel blinks as if shaking himself awake. “Right. Of course. Come with me.”

He directs Max through the hallways, as familiar as they were the day Max left. Nothing seems to really change in Hogwarts, except for maybe the students. Although he doesn't remember ever being that small or that loud. 

“So, uhm. How’s life as an Auror? Everything you expected and more?”

“It’s fine”, Max says. Then that feels like saying too little so he adds, “I got pretty good at dueling, I guess.” 

“I heard. Talk of the Ministry, yeah? Star pupil.”

Max shrugs. Meanwhile, Daniel leads him to the left corridor on the seventh floor. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you made it”, Daniel says, and Max’s heart stutters. “I always knew you would.”

They stop in front of a tapestry. It depicts a wizard trying to… Teach ballet to a group of trolls? 

“Who’s this great fellow?” Daniel takes a look at the tapestry and laughs. The sound of it rattles Max’s bones. 

“I always forget he’s there. That, my friend, is the great Barnabas The Barmy. A most interesting wizard. I think he was clubbed for that.” Before explaining anything else, Daniel adds, “Just give me a moment.”

Max watches him walk back to the start of the hallway and pull out his wand, whispering Protego Maxima, Fianto Duri, Repello Inimicum. Creating a barrier. He then repeats the process on the opposite side and charms a glowing Do not enter sign for good measure. 

Back with Max, he says, “Not a lot of foot traffic up here, but just in case. Hopefully no one will bang their heads against it.”

“What is so important that no one can see?”

“Okay, so. Bear with me.” Max watches as Daniel stands in front of the wall opposite the dancing trolls and closes his eyes. Then he starts walking back and forth. 

When Max is about to ask What the fuck are you doing the wall starts morphing, changing itself brick by brick into a… Door. 

Daniel gestures towards it with both hands, showing it off. “This is the Room of Requirement. Basically, it shows up when you need it and it transforms itself to help you with those needs.”

Max examines the making of the wooden doors, the stone arches that appeared out of nowhere. He does not touch them. “I didn't know about it.” He won’t deny this makes him kind of irritated. Max thought he knew most of Hogwarts’ puzzles. 

“Don’t beat yourself up, it’s one of the castle’s best guarded secrets. I only learned about it because I made friends with a few house elves.” Daniel turns to him, and Max knows he’s about to engage his teacher voice. “Mostly people stumble across it when they truly need it and then never find it again. They don't know that the room is always here, waiting to be called into service.”

Fascinating. “And why don't you want the students finding out about it? Afraid of the shenanigans they might pull?”

“Basically, yes. Let's just say: if someone truly needs it, the room will be there for them. Otherwise, let’s maybe try to avoid a hypothetically incorrect use of it.”

Max nods. Fair enough. “So I’m guessing we’re not dealing with just a locking spell.”

“More like a locking spell on steroids.” Then Daniel starts rolling up the right sleeve of his robes, and then the shirt underneath, showing off a vertical, fresh, scar on the underside of his forearm. “Blew my arm open when I tried to pry it off.”

Max takes Daniel’s forearm in his left hand, using the right one to run a finger over the scar. Daniel’s skin is surprisingly soft. “Does it hurt?” Daniel shakes his head. “I know someone at St. Mungo’s who could probably help with the scar. If you want to.”

“I’d be much obliged, Max.” Daniel smiles, and Max feels himself regressing to his sixteen year-old self, shaky and desperate. He nods and averts his eyes, letting go of Daniel, who pulls his clothes back down. 

Right. The door. Max pulls his wand out and starts running diagnostics. 

“What is that spell?” Suddenly Daniel is getting all in Max’s space, trying to examine his wand more closely. 

“A modified version of Revelio. Hopefully it’ll show me what the fuck this is.” 

The spell materializes itself in a shower of blue sparks, forming a curtain over the door. It reveals something that looks like vines sprouting from the edges of the door and twisting all over the surface. 

“That's dope”, Daniel mutters. Max gets closer to the door to inspect the vines. There's… fuck, dozens of them, wired to explode. Daniel got away with a salvageable injury, but Max wagers that only because his training kicked in in time. Another less skilled wizard would’ve been blown to bits. 

“What do you need?”, he asks. Next to him, Daniel shuffles.

“What?”

“You said the room presents itself when someone needs something. What did you need from it?”

“Oh. I’ve been using the room for a while to practice spells”, Daniel says. “Nothing shady or anything, I promise.”

“By yourself?” Daniel nods. “And did anybody else know that you were doing this?”

A frown appears in Daniel’s face. Max watches him put the pieces together, following the same line of thought. “I mean, some other teachers know, yeah. Seb knows. Jenson too”, he explains, now clearly uncomfortable. “Are you suggesting someone did this on purpose? To hurt me?”

“I don't know. But I wouldn't rule the possibility out, Daniel.” 

Daniel. The last time Max called him by his first name was probably when… Well. He thinks Daniel’s stare probably confirms it.

“Can you fix it?”

Of course. “I think so, although it’s going to take a while. If I don't want to blow up then I’m going to have to disarm the vines one by one.”

“Can I help?”

Max looks at Daniel’s earnest face and feels the pull he hasn't had to deal with in four years. That same pull that urges him to say yes, always. 

He says yes. 

—

It’s tough work. Delicate, more like, and repetitive. 

Each vine has to be pulled away carefully and be cut off at its base. Max takes the right side of the door and Daniel the left one. They work mostly in silence, and it is only a little awkward.

There's something almost – familiar, about the magic imbued in the vines. Something Max can't place but itches uncomfortably in the back of his head. There's something he’s missing.

By the time the sun goes down his neck hurts and cracks every time he moves it, and his right arm is sore from being held up for so long. Judging by the noises Daniel makes as he stretches, he’s in the same boat.

“Come on. Let me take you to dinner.” A grimace passes through Daniel’s face right after he says it. Max just tries to swallow the burst of resentment he feels building in his stomach. “Shit. Sorry, let’s just – go.”

“Right.” They go. 

—

Maybe Victoria was right. The Great Hall is beautiful. 

It’s Max’s first time sitting at the teachers' table, which is an odd feeling. Not not nice, just… Odd. Unsettling in the way that it changes the balance of something that was fundamental to Max’s life for years – the Slytherin table.

Most of the professors he knew are still teaching, and receive Max with what feels like genuine affection. After greeting everyone, Daniel directs him to sit in an empty chair by his side. 

It’s fine. Max spends most of the time talking to the Divination professor, even though he fucking hated Divination and he still thinks it’s stupid as shit. Even so, he can't shake the constant awareness he has of every inch of space that Daniel occupies to his right. 

The Headmistress catches him before she retires for the night. “I’ve asked the house elves to ready a room for you, dear. Do please stay and rest up, will you?”

There’s an excuse poised at the tip of Max’s tongue the second she starts talking. My cats –, he almost starts to say, but then he remembers that they have a charmed feeder, and really, it’s hard to argue with the Headmistress. So he's apparently staying the night. 

He tries to excuse himself to look for an elf that will tell him which room is his, he really does, but Daniel catches him by the wrist before he can make his grand escape. “Listen, Max. Can we – talk? In private.”

Nobody’s paying attention to them, and yet it still feels illegal to have Daniel’s fingers wrapped around any part of Max, in public. His eyes are huge looking up at him. 

“Please.”

He lets go of Max. 

“Okay.”

—

Max is not sure what exactly he expected the teacher's living quarters to look like. He never thought much about it when he was little, but he would've guessed something grand, for sure. 

In reality the room he’s given is basically just a tiny apartment, decorated in very much the same old-timey British style that the rest of the castle follows. It doesn't have a kitchen, but it does have a bedroom, bathroom and living space. 

“You can decorate it”, Daniel points out when he watches Max inspect the place. “As long as all the modifications you make are reversible, so they can put the room back the way it was if you leave. Or get sacked, you know.”

Pulling out his wand, Max runs a quick detection spell, just to make sure everything's alright – a habit quickly formed after becoming an Auror. The results come clean except for the castle’s usual wards, so he stuffs his wand back in his pants.

He can, however, feel Daniel’s jitteriness like a physical itch on his skin. 

“What did you want to talk about, Daniel?” Max watches as he takes a breath, clearly nervous. The tables used to be turned the other way around. 

“Right. I just – I wanted to apologize for what happened when you were in seventh grade. You know.”

Max knows. How could he ever forget?

“I was the one that tried to kiss you. No need to apologize.” He almost adds for a mistake at the end of the sentence, but the words just won’t come out of his mouth. 

“No. I mean, yes, you tried to kiss me, but I –”, Daniel stutters, coming to stand in front of Max. His breathing betrays him. “I knew you had a crush on me. For the longest time, I knew, and I didn't do anything to discourage it. For that, I am sorry.”

So you kept me going for years only to then break me apart. Sure. 

But Daniel continues. “I was a terrible mentor, fuck. Just awful. I took advantage of you.”

Despite all of the resentment and self-hatred and normal hatred that Max has brewed in his belly for four years, he finds himself rushing to defend Daniel from himself. “No, you were good. You were a good teacher, and I always liked you for that.” Loved. “And as for the kiss, you did what was expected of you. You pushed me away. No hard feelings.”

“No, Max. The problem is –”, he starts, then stops. His eyes keep fleeting away, then back to Max, before he takes a big breath and says, “The problem is that I considered it.”

Silence falls on the room like a stone. What?

“What?”

“When you kissed me, in that split second… Fuck, this is bad. I need to be fucking kicked out, I –”

“Daniel.” Max gets in closer, just a step’s distance between him and Daniel. “When I kissed you, what?”

“I considered it. Reciprocating. I – A part of me wanted to.”

Max didn't know reality could be shattered like this. Like throwing a rock at a glass wall, when it turns out you were using that wall as your eyes. 

Daniel buries his face in his hands, rubbing it roughly. “You were a fucking kid, and I… Shit. I freaked out so bad.”

“You wanted me?” Max just needs to – he needs to make sure. “Back then, you wanted me?”, he asks, while Daniel looks like someone is pulling out all of his teeth, one by one. 

“Fuck. I did.”

Something’s happening to Max’s body. He’s overheating, senses focusing on Daniel like a predator spotting prey. It’s like his magic is boiling inside of him, suddenly hard to keep contained. 

“And now?” Daniel looks at him with surprise etched into his features, like he expected another kind of reaction from Max. 

“Max. I just told you I’m a fucking creep, why are you –”

“Has this happened with any other students, ever?”

Daniel doesn't blink. “No.” Max nods. Only me.  

“And do you still want me? As I am now?” 

The seconds spent waiting for Daniel’s answer are the longest Max has ever experienced. If he had a time-turner –

“Yeah. Yes, Max. Still.” 

For the second time in his life, Max grabs Daniel by the back of his neck and kisses him. 

It starts pretty much the same as their first kiss, with Max dying to get closer and Daniel too shocked to do much else other than stay still and take it. Except this time Max pulls away for air, and when he goes back in, Daniel’s mouth is kissing back with a groan.

It’s – glorious. Literal magic running slow and molten in his veins, condensed in the feeling of Daniel’s hands on him and his mouth open and hot and willing. They're wearing so many fucking clothes, why?

Max wants to push Daniel back onto the nearest flat surface, spread him open like a pinned butterfly and take the time to examine every single inch on him. Wants to learn what makes him writhe and what makes him ask for more. Wants Daniel to do exactly the same to him.

“Max. Fuck.” Max almost whines at the way Daniel pronounces his name, all shocked and crazy like he can't believe this is happening, hands on Max’s hips and then his neck, feeling the wild beating pulse under it. But Max can't bring himself to be embarrassed, not with the way Daniel opens up under him. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” 

Max’s brain is reduced to simple commands and small words. He feels – insane, more caveman than wizard. Flat surface. Daniel. Pin. Fuck. More. Lick. More. He feels every tiny hiccup in Daniel’s voice in his dick. Before he realizes, he’s started walking him backwards.

“Daniel.” 

The back of Daniel’s knees hits the bed. Instead of going down on it like Max wants though, Daniel pulls away, leaving Max to chase after his mouth, unsuccessfully. “Max. Hey, slow down, slow down.”

More. More, more, more. 

Daniel’s hand on Max’s jaw stops him. It’s a gentle touch, caressing his cheek and allowing Max to feel the calluses on his palm, his fingers. It should calm Max down – surely, it's intended to. But he doesn't know if he’s physically capable of winding down. 

He just – needs. So bad. 

Daniel’s breath hitches when Max moves his head to the side and catches his thumb in his mouth, swallowing around it and swirling his tongue, just a hint of teeth. He looks as crazy as Max feels, mouth swollen and curls all over the place.

“God, Max. I don't know if this is a good idea.”

Max has to let go of Daniel’s thumb to reply. “If you leave me hanging again Daniel, I swear –”

“What? What will you do?”

Max’s jaw tightens. What could Max even do? Talk to the Headmistress? Leave the castle and not finish undoing the curse on the door?

Daniel crowds against him even more if possible, to the point where they're breathing the same air. “If we do this is because we both want it. Because we both like… it”, he says, and Max hears the unspoken words. 

Because we like each other. 

“Do you like me, Daniel?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Max”, he starts, but his thumb begins tracing a path over Max’s cheekbone. “I’ve always liked you.”

This time, Max does whine. 

“Fuck me.” That being said, he pushes on Daniel’s chest. Daniel resists in place, coming out to grip Max’s shoulder to keep balance. 

“God, wait. Wait. Our fucking – clothes.” And oh, yeah. Stupid clothes. 

Daniel’s robes go first, discarded without any kind of regard. Then he’s working on loosening the tie while Max unbuttons the vest, then the shirt, and then Max is revealing ink and Daniel’s torso is finally visible. 

He needs a fucking moment. “You're beautiful.” Even more than Max had imagined, golden skin splattered with magical tattoos. They move almost lazily, travelling up and down Daniel like they're happy to be displayed and observed. 

“You should see my thighs then.” So Max falls on his knees. 

Daniel laughs when Max tries to get him to step on one foot so he can remove his shoe. “I’m gonna fucking fall, mate.” He grabs onto the bedpost, looking down at Max as he takes the other shoe off, the socks, and then finally starts working on the belt. 

Max slows down when Daniel is down to his briefs. There are more tattoos on his thigh, an intricate, moving puzzle of them that somehow never seems to overlap. Max runs the pads of his fingers over them, tracing the voluble lines until Daniel makes a strained sound. 

“Sorry. It tickles, when they move.” Max keeps going, moving upwards until he reaches the edge of Daniel’s briefs. They're bright yellow. 

“Maybe you should’ve been a Hufflepuff after all”, Max says, staring at the big bulge of Daniel in his underwear. It earns him another breathy laugh, which becomes strangled as Max presses his mouth to him, over the fabric.

“Max, wait. You too. Come on.”

It takes less time to undress Max, simply because he doesn't bother to dress up that much under his Auror robes. No one’s gonna see his clothes. Usually. 

He feels paper thin when Daniel’s hands start touching him, a little cool on Max’s overheated, pale body. His magic sizzles underneath. “Look at you”, Daniel whispers, touching and squeezing Max’s pecs like they're – Like they're –

“Daniel. Fuck me.”

“God. Right. Bed.” 

Max goes first, discarding his own underwear and then starfishing on his back. He’s hard, ridiculously so, hips trying to twitch upwards. He thinks about touching himself to take the edge off, but then decides against it. It won't take him too much to come like this.

“Come on.” Hurry. But Daniel’s just staring at Max, still standing at the foot of the bed. Max kicks out, trying to hook his toes on the back of Daniel’s knees. “Daniel.” 

Don't make me beg. 

Daniel shakes his head like he’s waking up from a dream, and then, finally, crawls on the bed and lays himself over Max, slotting himself in the cradle of his body. “Sorry, sorry.” Max catches his mouth because he misses it already. 

His fingers find the edge of Daniel’s briefs and pull them down and off, with Daniel himself making a commendable effort to not let go of Max in the process. And then it’s skin on skin, Daniel’s mouth moving down Max’s jaw, neck and then fixating on his chest in a way that has him gasping against his will. 

He kisses and licks and bites until Max feels puffy red and wet all over, both on his chest and on his dick, and the sight of Daniel huge and obscene between his legs is making him salivate.

“Daniel. I told you already, I want you to.”

He pulls off, eyes dark like Max has never seen them before. “Is that right, Maxy? Do you want me to fuck you?” Max makes a strangled noise in his chest. 

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll give you what you need, baby.” Baby, baby, baby. 

Suddenly Daniel pulls away, and Max is already about to complain when he realizes what he’s looking for. His wand. 

It’s such a beautiful piece of work. A more manageable size than Max’s, the color of the wood a shade darker. It’s kept Daniel safe all of this time, and for that Max is thankful. 

“I’ll prepare you? If that's, uhm. Alright?”

Max groans. “Yes, fuck, Daniel. Get on with it.”

He doesn't need to say it twice. Daniel murmurs something Max can't quite catch and points his wand towards Max, and suddenly he feels it. A trickle of warm wet inside him, a pressure, like – fingers reaching in, stretching him. 

Max gasps, his dick twitching. It’s over as quickly as it started, but fuck. 

“Was that okay?”, Daniel asks, dropping his wand on the floor and reaching out to touch Max’s face. And Max feels like he’s going to blow already. 

“It’s fine, just. Fuck me.”

“I need to check you first, sometimes the spell is not… Enough. I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, Daniel croaks, two fingers prodding at Max and making his thighs fall wide open. They go in easily, twisting inside and teasing right there –

Max moans, one hand gripping the bedspread and the other one reaching for Daniel’s shoulder. For a moment he wishes his fingernails were longer, so he could leave scratches behind, mark Daniel all over. 

“Just a little more, yeah? You’re doing so good, Max.” A little more, he says, before adding a third finger. It burns, but Max doesn't mind. 

Daniel starts cursing, and it’s only then that Max realizes he’s started rocking against his fingers, unconsciously trying to find a good rhythm and pull Daniel in. 

“Fuck, you're just… A natural, Max. Effortlessly good. You wanna get fucked that bad?”

Max does, but the words won’t come out. He makes a noise instead, something that sounds more animal than human. 

“Holy shit, Max. Okay, okay. I’ve got you.” Finally, finally, Daniel pulls his fingers out and instead presses the head of his cock in, making Max’s breath stutter. Then he starts pushing in. 

Max’s thighs wrap around Daniel’s hips instinctively, encouragingly. “Fuck. Look at you, Max. Taking it so well.” Daniel sounds ragged, as much as Max feels when he bottoms out, their bodies pressed flush.

He’s so… Full. But it’s not enough. Not enough, not until –

“Daniel, please. Move.” There. He begged. 

Instead of listening, Daniel kisses him. His mouth, his cheek, his eyelids, his neck, seemingly everywhere his lips can reach. Meanwhile, Max tries to rock himself on his cock, which provides little relief. He’s so hard, so far gone already. He won't need much. He just needs Daniel to –

“I got you, Max”, Daniel whispers, before he starts fucking into him. 

Max kind of loses control. There's no rational thought behind his eyes anymore, just More, and There, please, and I can come, I know I can, please let me. He can feel his magic burning just under his skin, trying to reach Daniel and frustrated with the lack of an outlet. 

Daniel talks him through it, which probably shouldn't come as a surprise. “Is this what you wanted, when you were my student? Did you imagine this?”, he groans into Max’s skin, and Max did. He moans in response. “Yeah? Me, fucking you over the desk?”

“Yes.” And so much more. 

“Fuck, Max.” Daniel changes the angle then, and he finds Max’s prostate, and Max is gone. In the next thrust his thighs contract and his hips twitch and he’s coming. “Holy shit.” 

He moans through it, a staccato interrupted by Daniel fucking into him in erratic bursts. Max is twitching around him, he knows, his body trying to make Daniel follow. 

When he feels like he can move again, Max tries tightening up, even through the sensitivity. Daniel whines at the feeling. “Fuck, Max, you’re so good, you're so –”

It feels like victory when Daniel comes inside of him. Better than catching the snitch, than winning a duel. It’s the completion of everything he wanted for years and that he’s already craving again. 

Daniel lets his weight fall on Max theatrically, and it makes Max laugh. But the laughter is cut short when Daniel pulls out, and then kisses Max again. 

There's no hurry this time, no great sin hanging over their heads. They kiss, and when Daniel pulls apart, they're both smiling. 

Then Daniel says, “I feel like they're gonna break the door any time now. Take me to Azkaban.”

“Who? The Aurors?”, Max replies. “Don't worry, I can pull a few strings.” Daniel swats him in the arm, and Max laughs. 

—

Vettel looks at them an awful lot during breakfast, like he knows something he shouldn't. Max ignores the stares, fighting the phantom feeling of ants crawling over his arms and the butterflies in his stomach. It gets better when Daniel puts his hand on his back as they get up to leave the table. It’s only for a moment, a touch briefly come and gone, but. It makes him warm and tingly inside. 

“Let’s go, Maxy.”

Max’s mind wanders as they walk back to the dancing troll tapestry on the seventh floor, which has quickly become his favorite. “Don't you have classes to teach?” Daniel shrugs. 

“Yeah, but the Headmistress wants this curse gone like, at all costs. And quickly. So Seb is covering up for me today”, he says. “I mean, imagine if one of the children had opened the door, Max. They could've died.”

They could've, and yet the chances of the Room of Requirement showing up by actual need are quite low, if Max understood correctly. As far as they know, Daniel was the only person making frequent use of it. 

The itch is back, settled somewhere deep in the back of his head. He can almost picture Alonso’s smirk if he was here. There's something that he’s missing. Something that Max should be realizing.

Daniel opens up the hallway barrier for them, then spells it back up. “No blood anywhere, so hopefully no broken noses”, he mutters. “Here we go. I’ll call the door.” Max watches as Daniel performs his little ritual, walking back and forth three times.

The room shows up exactly as it did the day before, looking regal and magical and Hogwarts. A secret well-kept, probably only known by old families and the lucky wizard or witch who stumbles upon it. 

“Daniel. I was told someone else tried to open the door unsuccessfully.”

Daniel turns to look at him. “Yeah, Jenson did. He was ready for it though, after what happened to me, so he wasn't hurt.”

Professor Button. Is there anything special about him? About Daniel?

And then it clicks. 

They were both born into Muggle families. 

Max pulls out his wand and runs the diagnostics spell again, revealing the tangle of magical vines still twined over the door. 

“Max? Max, you just made that face you make when you figure something out. What is it?”

If Max’s theory is correct, then –

“Don't freak out.”

He doesn't give Daniel any time to think about what he should freak out about. Instead, he walks up to the door and grabs the doorknob. 

“Max, wait –”

He doesn't blow up. The door opens just fine, creaking only a little as it reveals the Room of Requirement itself. It’s big on the inside, bigger than Max would've imagined, lined up with mats and practice dummies and all the types of things one would need to try spells or dueling. 

Behind him, Daniel mutters, “What the fuck. How did you –”

Max stops him with a hand to the chest. “Don't touch the door. Please.” Daniel listens and stays put, thankfully. “If my theory is correct, then you’ll get hurt again if you try.”

“What are you implying, Max?”

Max swallows, then closes the door. Again, nothing happens. “I think the curse didn't react to me because it’s wired to detect Muggle-borns”, he says, and watches as Daniel's face goes blank. “We should probably test it again to make sure, but. So far, it seems plausible.”

Daniel takes a step back, away from the Room. “There was an accident last month with a Hufflepuff girl. Something to do with a potion she was brewing that went wrong. She also came from a Muggle family.”

“We need to talk to the Headmistress, see if there have been more incidents like this.” The wires start sparking in Max’s brain, neurons firing into action. “I’ll talk to the Ministry.” He can pop back into the office and get a couple trainees as reinforcements, perform a full swipe of the castle. 

“God, fucking – assholes.” Daniel’s expression is pinched in anger and worry. Right now though, it looks more like anger. “Max, if what you’re saying it’s true, then we need to do something. They're targeting kids, for fuck’s sake.”

“Hey.” Daniel's cheek is beard-rough under Max’s palm. But it’s also warm. “I know the kind of people capable of doing this. We’ll take care of it.” He feels it as Daniel bleeds the tension out of his shoulders little by little, relaxing under Max’s touch. 

“Alright. I trust the dashing, young Aurors of the Ministry.”

Max pictures Alonso, the vivid image of dashing and young. He smiles. 

“We won't disappoint you.”