Christmas Affairs

A/N and warnings: This is for the Bingo Board Challenge: D3: It's just sex. Post-Hogwarts/Post-War. Slash but no lemon. Just a short not-so-Christmas-y Christmas ficlet I wrote at night. Enjoy.

Summary: Cassius Warrington has met Roger Davies every Christmas since the incident at the party but it never means anything but self-loathing, trouble, and a promise to repeat the same thing next year.

Christmas carols play on the background. A thin layer of snow has covered the ground. Lights twinkle in the windows. It's Christmas time but Cassius can't help to fight against the disgusting, empty feeling in his chest. He dislikes Christmas but it hasn't always been so, just these past years. It's almost eleven. Perhaps he could just go home this time.

He rubs his temples, feeling the headache waking up from its sleep. It's pounding his skull dully but Cassius ignores the feeling. It's not like it was worse than getting a Bludger to his head. He pushes the empty glass away. Alcohol never does any good, he knows it very well, yet there he is, sitting in a small pub in the middle of London and drinking. He receives his umpteenth shot of strong Firewhisky. It doesn't really go to his head; he knows it doesn't. He can still think straight. Too bad there is nothing he wants to think about in particular but leaving the place.

"I knew I would find you here, Cassius."

Cassius flinches when he hears his name being spoken. He looks up and scoffs. "Davies."

The brunette in a suit lets out a small laugh but Cassius' glare doesn't go unnoticed by him. Cassius hates looking up at Roger put he's used to it; after all, the former Ravenclaw had outgrown him during the years between their last year at Hogwarts and their reunion couple years later.

"What? We're not in the first name basis anymore?" Roger asks casually and sat down on an empty barstool. "Cas?"

Cassius doesn't bother to answer and so Roger just shrugs.

They had been colleagues for a while they both had worked at the Ministry of Magic, high up at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. They hadn't actually been anything that could have been called friends. More like acquaintances, if even that, Cassius broods bitterly and silently watches Roger ordering a drink. From what Cassius knew Roger still worked for the Ministry. How many years it had been since he had resigned after the incident at the Christmas party? Five? Six even? Cassius can't remember and he is sure neither can Roger.

Roger takes a particularly long gulp of his pint. "It has been long time," he says and interrupts Cassius' train of thought. "Whole year already. How've you been?"

"I've been better," Cassius snarls and gets up, not intending to share anything that had something to do with his personal life with Roger. He shouldn't be getting involved with Roger in the first place. He teeters a little, the alcohol affecting his balance. Roger swiftly grips his wrist and keeps him from falling which angers him even more.

"You shouldn't be leaving just yet," Roger states with a charming smile. Cassius grits his teeth and looks away. "Just couple drinks," Roger continues, purring. He has warm, big hands; he strokes Cassius' wrist with his thumb. "For the old times' sake. I have a room reserved for this night."

Cassius uncurls himself from the mess of tangled limbs and reaches for his shirt and socks on the hotel room floor. His muscles ache slightly and there's a voice in head, nagging at him. He does his best to ignore it, he really does. His mouth tastes distantly like Ogden's Old Firewhisky and cherry tobaccos Roger loves.

Roger Davies had been a hopeless flirt and a ladies' man extraordinaire when younger. Now at the age of 32 people would say he had changed for the better, being married and having a secure relationship. Rare are the people who know the former Quidditch Captain isn't entirely loyal to his pretty little trophy wife, let alone that he isn't completely straight either. Cassius Warrington knows he's probably the only one who knows the latter with the first hand experience.

In a way Cassius doesn't pity himself; he pities Roger's wife. Cassius ignores the ring on the side table. He ignores knowing about Roger's three years old daughter. And he tries so hard to ignore the man sleeping peacefully on the bed. Cassius pulls his shirt over his head and gets up from the bed to pull on his jeans. Roger doesn't wake up when the mattress moves; he is still fast asleep, snoring softly.

The clock ticks on the wall. Half past five, it's still dark outside. From the open curtains Cassius can see the snow falling down. He walks to the door and opens it, not making a noise. He doesn't allow himself to breath before he's safely on the other side of the door. His blunt fingernails dug on his palms as he curses.

The night was a mistake. It was just sex. It was pointless.

But Cassius is partially responsible for Roger cheating on his wife. And yet he knows they will do it again.

Like every Christmas.