Surprise! Chapter 4 happened! Hope you enjoy the remorseless fluff~
Yukine rushes along the abandoned corridor, slinging his Hufflepuff scarf haphazardly around his neck. His designated meeting spot with Yato is beneath one of the gargoyles—affectionately and accurately nicknamed "One-Eyed Carl."
He turns a corner, sees Yato waiting under One-Eyed Carl, and lets out a yelp.
"Merlin's beard, did you sleep?"
The older boy's eyes are sunken pools of exhaustion, but he nods. His mouth promptly stretches in a yawn big enough to swallow the castle and most of the lake along with it. Yukine shakes his head.
"Good thing Hiyori already knows you're mental," he observes. Yato groans, turning to fall face-first against the stone wall.
"Why—did—I—think—this—was—smart," he moans, punctuating each word with a thump of his forehead against the wall. Yukine hauls him away before he can bruise himself.
"Don't be daft. If we're this late, she's going to think we're not coming."
As they walk quickly through the corridors and toward the castle's entrance, Yukine does not find Yato's dead stare to be the least bit encouraging. He finds himself pondering if a good slap would be efficient.
"I can't believe I have to pep talk you," he grumbles, flicking a speck of gargoyle dust from Yato's shoulder. "After you've been going on about this for weeks."
Yato sighs impressively.
"Yes…but I kind of thought the castle would catch fire before that, and I could rescue her from a flaming death instead."
Yukine snorts.
"You can save her life, but you can't go with her on a"—he lifts his fingers to heavily air-quote— "'date'?"
Yato nods again, his expression somehow both contemplative and miserable. Yukine huffs, tugging Yato along behind him as they approach the castle's front door.
: : :
Hiyori first spots them through the crowd of students making their way past Professor Tsuyu. Yukine seems to have Yato leashed by the front of his robes, and Yato himself has the demeanor of someone being marched into Azkaban for a life sentence. The pits of deep gray under his eyes suggest he hasn't seen sleep since the weekend.
Hiyori ignores these discouraging observations, elbowing her way forward to greet them.
"Hi, Yukine!"
She gives him a short hug, then turns to his companion. Up close, Yato's skin has an unfortunate greenish tinge, and he looks like he might be ill all over his clean robes.
"Hello Yato," Hiyori says dubiously.
She doesn't approach him for a hug, but offers her hand instead. Yato casts a panicked glance at Yukine, who has found something very important to stare at in the rafters. At last, he gingerly takes Hiyori's hand, handling it like he would an easily startled reptile.
Tsuyu gives them a meaningful glance. Nearly everyone else has already passed through the front door and had their names cleared for the Hogsmeade visit.
Yukine elbows Yato, and he drops Hiyori's hand quickly. Swallowing the pang of hurt at the back of her throat, she lines up in front of him to exit the castle.
After they make their way past Tsuyu and her checklist, Hiyori pretends not to notice the vicious and completely silent argument Yato and Yukine are having behind her. After appearing to lose, Yato shrinks deeper into his robes, snuggling the Slythern scarf up over his nose. He lags behind them on the snow-packed road.
Yukine trots ahead to keep up with Hiyori's longer strides.
"So, where do you usually go first in Hogsmeade?" he asks in a too-bright voice.
"Yama always makes us take her to Madam Puddifoot's tea shop," Hiyori says, and bestows a smile upon Yukine for his valiant effort at conversation. At the smile, Yukine promptly turns the rich, luminous orange of a ripe pumpkin. Behind them, Yato gives an obscene snort.
"But," Hiyori continues, maintaining perfect composure, "I'd like to try the Three Broomsticks this time, if that's all right with you."
"You've never been to the Three Broomsticks?!" Yukine asks in shock.
Hiyori gives a wry smile and shakes her head, thinking him fortunate for being spared Yama's obsession with Madame Puddifoot and her overwhelmingly pink tea shop. From behind them, Yato makes a small noise that sounds like a cat being stepped on. Hiyori turns her head.
"Something wrong?"
She catches the flash of panic in his eyes before he returns them to his toes, and the ill, suspicious feeling in the pit of her stomach yawns wider.
Yato is not himself today—and Hiyori suspects it is her fault.
She turns back to Yukine, asking him some mindless questions about his classes. He answers her with enthusiasm, and as a result she is required to do very little talking until they arrive in the town.
Once the lopsided rooftops and smoky chimneys of Hogsmeade emerge among the snowbanks, Yukine immediately drags Yato and Hiyori into an ancient, swaybacked bookshop before either of them can protest. He comes out with seven new texts on Herbology, all of them dirt-cheap and colossally dusty. Yukine staggers under the books' weight as the three of them walk along the town's thoroughfare.
"I guess Yama isn't the only one who prefers Madam Puddifoot's," Hiyori observes, watching Kofuku's pink head bouncing toward the tea shop, a resigned Daikoku in tow.
Neither Yato nor Yukine hear her, as they are too busy bickering about the wisdom of spending all one's money on extra textbooks.
"Oh, do shut up," urges Yukine. "You can criticize my choices once you stop begging me for help on all your homework."
Yato grits his teeth. "We have. A library," he growls.
"Which has none of these. Look, Yato—The Herbologist's Grimoire, First Edition. This isn't even in the restricted section."
Yato grunts. "Since when do you like magical plants so much, Yukine?"
Yukine stutters on his response, fumbles, and drops three of the books. Hiyori bends down to help pick them up and notices the tip of his nose has gone very pink.
"Shall we go somewhere warm?" she asks kindly, and Yukine gives her a grateful glance as she hands him the last book. He nods once, saying:
"Yeah, I think we should all warm up."
Hiyori looks up at Yato. He avoids her eyes, rubbing his gloved hands together and breathing into them.
"Sure," he says morosely. "Whatever you two want."
Hiyori's heart sinks into the tips of her boots. When she returns her gaze to the busy snow-covered road, the whole town of Hogsmeade starts to blur in front of her eyes. She blinks ferociously to clear her vision.
"Hey." Yukine tugs on her elbow.
Hiyori dashes her knuckles across her eyes, still trying to blink tears away as Yukine points toward the door of the Three Broomsticks.
"Kazuma's going in there—maybe we could catch up with him!"
Hiyori forces a smile. "That sounds good," she says. "I am looking forward to trying the butterbeer."
Yukine gives a generous sigh. "It's amazing."
Hiyori can feel Yato's silence, but she doesn't look back at him. The trio follows Kazuma's disappearing form into the pub.
: : :
As soon as they're inside, Yukine seizes the sleeve of Yato's robe and drags him behind the door.
"What in the bloody hell are you doing?!" he whispers fiercely. There is little need to lower his voice in the loud pub—but Hiyori isn't too far away.
Yato collapses against the wall in despair, the back of his head colliding with a dull thump against the wood.
"My best," he groans.
Yukine yanks him back by his collar, showing no remorse as Yato claws at his throat.
"Your 'best' is pathetic," he hisses. "By now Hiyori probably thinks you hate her! If you can't share an innocent butterbeer with her without falling apart, then I'm giving up on you entirely."
Yukine watches the last vestiges of hope drain from Yato's eyes at his cruel words.
"You're—you're leaving?" he whispers, his voice quavering in desperation.
"I told Suzuha I'd meet up with him today."
Yato's mouth levers open and shut.
"Y-you did what?"
"Yato, I can't chaperone you constantly!"
"Why not?!"
Yukine frantically shushes Yato's agonized wail. He peeks around the door at Hiyori, who is turning around and around in the middle of the pub—presumably searching for them.
"Listen," he says. He ducks behind the door again to take Yato by the shoulders and give him a gentle shake. "Just talk to her. Wasn't it fun when the two of you took care of Buckbeak?"
Yato gives a single nod, his expression forlorn.
"That was different, though," he moans.
"How, exactly?" Yukine growls. His patience can only take so much.
"I don't know," Yato says, his pitch creeping up into a whine. "Maybe that was back when I thought she was less—less cu—"
"There you are!"
A hand lands heavily on Yukine's arm, and he lets go of Yato's shoulders. Whirling around, he finds himself confronted by a pink-cheeked and very aggravated Hiyori.
"Excellent to know you two are such reliable guides," she says, injecting venom into the last two words.
"I'm so sorry, Hiyori," Yukine says in all sincerity. "But I need to…er…run somewhere for a moment. Yato will stay here with you though. Right?"
He gives Yato a loaded look, and Yato returns him a stricken one. Without waiting for a response, Yukine ducks between the two of them and escapes outside into the bracing cold.
Suzuha is already there, leaning against the weathered outside wall and holding a package close to his chest. Seeing Yukine come out the door, he turns and smiles.
"Yukine!"
"Hey," Yukine says. His cheeks begin to turn cherry-red in the cold, and pulls his scarf up over his nose. "Sorry, that took a bit longer than I thought."
Suzuha shrugs. "I didn't mind waiting."
The two of them stand in awkward silence for a few moments before Suzuha clears his throat.
"I, erm, got you something," he says, holding the package out toward Yukine.
Yukine stares from Suzuha to the package and back again. He says: "Oh."
A rush of heat floods his face, making it easy to forget he's standing outside in midwinter.
Yukine slowly takes the package, tucking his new books under his arm in order to open it. Once he removes the lid, he sees inside a hibernating pygmy puff: snug and warmly nestled within several layers of fabric.
"I know you couldn't bring a cat with you to school," says Suzuha. "So I thought…maybe…"
"It's so cute," Yukine murmurs. He tickles the pygmy puff with one finger. It squeaks, burrowing deeper into its nest.
Yukine looks up, beaming.
"I love it."
: : :
Meanwhile, Hiyori fast approaches a disappointing realization: the talkative, entertaining Yato of their hippogriff adventure is a completely different person from the morose, tight-lipped Yato who sits across from her. If she weren't so bloody uncomfortable, she might be tempted to feel sorry for him.
"So," she begins. "Yukine's taking quite a while in the bathroom, isn't he?"
Yato jerks his head up at the sound of her voice. He glances over to the bathroom's entrance. Floating serenely next to it, a jar shaped like a turnip has been enchanted to shout scathing insults at anyone caught trying to bypass the requisite three-Knut fee.
"Probably ate something weird," he mutters.
Hiyori nods sagely, then does her utmost to avoid thinking about Yukine's gastrointestinal tribulations. Fortunately, she finds a distraction in the table nearest them, where three Ravenclaws and a Hufflepuff have just sat down with enormous mugs of something foaming and honey-colored. Her mouth waters.
"We don't have to wait for him," she points out. Yato does not respond.
Seconds pass. Then minutes. Hiyori's skin crawls with discomfort. She spares Yato another glance, and immediately wishes she hadn't. Going by the look on his face, he would rather be anywhere else than here, or possibly dead.
Hiyori's elevated seat on a barstool gives her a good view of the rest of the rest of the pub, so she turns her attention away from her dour companion. For a few moments, she occupies herself by observing the rest of the room. Across the large, loud pub, she spots Professors Tenjin and Tsuyu sharing an amiable gillywater. Next to their table is a group of uncomfortable Slytherin sixth-years who are obviously hiding shots of firewhisky in their laps. Hiyori's eyes keep traveling across the room, eventually landing on a sight that twists her stomach in knots.
Kazuma and Bishamon share a small table in the very corner of the pub. As Hiyori watches, Bishamon bashfully twirls a lock of her hair around her fingers—rather shocking behavior for the notoriously un-bashful captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Kazuma leans forward to listen, his face rapt, completely captivated more with each word. On top of the scratched wooden tabletop, their hands rest half an inch apart.
Hiyori swallows the enormous lump in her throat, and hops down from the barstool.
"I'm leaving," she says tersely. She doesn't look at Yato. "Tell Yukine I hope he feels better."
As soon as she turns to go, one of the many servers carrying wide trays of drinks walks by, blocking her path.
In the bare moment she's stuck there against the table, a screeching of chair legs makes her jump. Someone seizes her wrist.
"Hiyori, wait."
She turns back, shocked. Yato has leapt down from his stool and grabbed her hand in both of his. His eyes are blown wide, desperation written all over his features. In Hiyori's ears, the noise level in the pub drops drastically.
"Stay a bit longer?" he asks quietly. "Please?"
The tips of his ears start to turn dark red. Hiyori gives her trapped wrist a feeble tug.
"Yato, I'm tired. I want to go back." She pauses. "I'm not…having a good time."
Her words have an unprecedented effect on him. His face crumples and he releases her wrist.
"I know," he says wretchedly. "I'm sorry."
Hiyori doesn't move, even though her hand is free once again.
"What's been going on with you?" she asks. "You've been…well, dreadful today, and Yukine was trying so hard to make this a nice day for us all. And now he's ill—"
Hiyori cuts off, surprised at how quickly her misery has transformed into aggravation. This could have been such a wonderful time. It should have been such a wonderful time.
It's all Yato's fault.
"No," Hiyori insists, though Yato has said nothing. Her voice climbs to an unpleasantly shrill note. "I'm going now. I hope you have a lovely time all by yourself, Yato."
His look of mute horror drops a boulder of guilt into her gut, but she stands straight, deepening her frown. After a split second of silence, she whirls away from him and in the direction of the bathrooms.
Yato calls after her: "Wh—Hiyori, where are you—"
"To check on Yukine, of course!" she hurls back at him. "Since I'm the only one who seems to care."
"No—wait a minute—Hiyori, please."
Yato trips over a stool in his rush to catch up with her, and manages to catch her by the elbow as she is about to enter the bathrooms.
"He's not inside," Yato says breathlessly. "He's not even here anymore."
He makes an abstract, interpretive gesture toward the rest of the pub, indicating that Yukine is indeed nowhere to be seen.
During her moment of bewildered silence, the turnip jar floats gently up to them. When it becomes obvious that Yato and Hiyori are not about to pay the three-Knut fee, its toothy mouth opens wide, unleashing a volley of unrepeatable obscenities. They quickly scoot off to the side, which appeases the irate little turnip.
"What do you mean?" Hiyori asks, once the turnip's insults have stopped echoing in her ears. Her brow furrows. "You said he was—"
"I know," Yato interrupts. "I know. I, erm…lied." His mouth twists downward in a guilty frown.
Then, he massages his temples, muttering: "He's probably off talking about Venomous Tentacula, or picking shrivelfigs, or whatever he and that herby little friend of his do for fun."
Hiyori's brow furrows still further, adding this interaction to the long, long list of things Yato says that make exactly as much sense as the existence of Wrackspurts.
Yato gives his head a quick shake. Taking her other elbow, he pulls her slightly toward him, out of the path of a group of girls headed for the bathrooms. Yato seems numb to their stares and giggles, but Hiyori feels their eyes on her like needles in the back of her neck.
He holds her close to his chest as the group passes through the doorway, and Hiyori burns bright pink all the way from her collarbones to the top of her scalp. When the coast is clear, she pushes him away from her with enough force that he actually stumbles backward a step.
"Hiyori?" he asks with a stricken face.
To her utter dismay, moisture prickles the corners of her eyes. She scrubs her sleeve over her face and gives a short, harsh laugh.
"Sorry," she blurts. "I'll just—I'll just go. I wouldn't want you to feel—obligated to spend time with me, or anything."
A single drop trembles at the corner of her eyelid, sliding down her cheek before she can catch it with her sleeve.
"No!" Yato shouts, covered from head to toe in mortification. "Merlin's beard—no, Hiyori, that's not it at all!"
Hiyori tries to keep her nose covered with the sleeve of her robe as she sniffles determinedly, but Yato pulls her arm away from her face.
"I did everything wrong," he groans. "I'm so sorry. I wanted Yukine here because I was, erm—"
He chokes off, a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw. Fascinated, Hiyori lets a second tear go unwiped in favor of watching his face grow steadily darker.
"I was scared," Yato says. His voice is so quiet Hiyori can hardly hear it.
"Scared…" she repeats in disbelief.
"But that was a mistake," he says quickly. His hand tightens around hers. "I shouldn't have dragged Yukine into this, especially when—"
Once more, his voice suddenly chokes off. He tries again:
"When—when…"
Beads of sweat are actually forming on his forehead. One of his eyelids has started twitching spastically.
"Yato—" Hiyori begins, but he holds up one finger, determined to either finish his declaration or perish in the attempt. He lets go of her hand.
"When I…sort of…fancy you," he mumbles, his eyes fixed on the tips of her shoes.
The racket in the pub suddenly melts away, leaving nothing but the sound of Hiyori's heart thudding arrhythmically at the bottom of her throat.
"Oh," she says at last, her voice squeaking.
Both her ears and Yato's burn a matching shade of lobster red. Despite the silence, an unspeakable weight has lifted off Hiyori's chest. She feels light enough to float right off the ground.
Slowly—very slowly—a smile sneaks onto her lips.
"I'm rather thirsty," she says suddenly. She twists her fingers together, pressing her hands against each other to stop them trembling.
Yato's eyes snap from her shoes to her face. When he sees the smile she wears, his shoulders sag in relief.
"Yeah?" he asks hopefully.
"I've heard some good things about the butterbeer here," Hiyori says, feigning a casual tone. In a wave of shyness, her eyes dip away from Yato's, down to the messy knot of his tie. His Adam's apple bobs.
"It's all right," he says. Hiyori looks up again, only to see that his grin mirrors hers. "Although I'm partial to the tea at Madame Puddifoot's."
: : :
Several of the remaining customers at the Three Broomsticks glance upward in pleased surprise when a girl's sunny laughter chimes above the clamor.
The familiar sound captures Bishamon's attention, and she looks for its source. As soon as she finds it, her blood curdles in her veins.
Across the room, Hiyori Iki—Bishamon's friend and protegé (and future Quidditch champion, if she has anything to do with it)—is sharing a table with that insufferable Slytherin seeker.
And they are fraternizing.
Bishamon watches in increasing anxiety as the seeker's hand begins to creep along the tabletop, closer and closer to where Iki's rests.
"Kazuma," she hisses, jerking her head in their direction. Kazuma turns slightly in his seat, enough for him to see what has Bishamon so upset. His eyes widen.
"We have to do something," she insists, half-rising from her seat. Kazuma swivels his seat back, catching her wrist before she can storm over and snap Yato's neck.
"Maybe give it a few more minutes before you hex him through a wall?" he suggests mildly. Clenching her teeth, Bishamon sits back down.
Now that she looks a bit closer, Yato isn't behaving at all like the arrogant boy she knows from the Quidditch pitch. He leans over the table, completely engrossed in whatever Iki is telling him. His eyes never break away from her face.
With a jolt, Bishamon recognizes the intense, almost hungry expression on his face. It's exactly the same as the one he wears when he's chasing the Snitch.
Kazuma notices she's still staring behind him, and once more he turns around—just in time to see Yato close the last crucial distance between his hand and Iki's. When his hand covers hers, Iki's face turns an instant and furious shade of pink.
Kazuma returns to his butterbeer with a chuckle. He mutters something under his breath that Bishamon doesn't catch.
"What was that?" she asks.
His eyes, crinkled with amusement behind thick glasses, flicker up to hers. There is something deep and yearning in them. Flustered, Bishamon drops her gaze to her own empty drink.
"Nothing, Viina," he says quietly. "Nothing important."
: : :
Yato keeps a firm hold on Hiyori's elbow as the two of them trundle through the unpacked snow. Ahead of them, the Shrieking Shack's sharp angles and jutting beams appear among the snowdrifts. The haunted building is a black gash in the landscape of sprawling white.
"Yato, I've seen this place before," Hiyori points out. "And it's not exactly, erm—a dynamic view."
"But you've never seen it in the snow!" Yato exclaims, his face alight with childlike glee. Hiyori stumbles along next to him, trying to keep pace with his longer legs.
Suddenly, her foot encounters a particularly stubborn snowdrift, and she cries out, toppling into Yato's side. He catches her around the waist, holding her upright as she works her leg out of its snowy depths.
"Thanks," Hiyori says, breathing heavily from the effort of freeing herself. To keep her balance, she had grabbed Yato around the neck, clinging to him as the fresh, powdery snow nearly dragged her to the ground.
Now that she's free, she should probably let go.
"Are you all right?" Yato asks. Hiyori's fingers brush against the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands are against her waist and back, still holding her close to him.
"I'm fine," she breathes.
Between the winter sky and Yato's eyes, there is almost too much blue for Hiyori to think straight. Her breath turns to mist in the frigid air, crystallizing like microscopic diamonds.
"D-did I ask you if you were all right?" Yato asks after a few seconds, his voice shaking. Hiyori nods once, unable to unlock her gaze from his.
Suddenly, Yato's head snaps forward, nearly cracking their foreheads together. He swears—a prolonged and creative series of words, most of which Hiyori has never heard before—while shaking a great deal of snow out of his dark hair. The remains of a firmly packed snowball slide down the back of his robes and plop into the snow.
Behind Yato, Hiyori sees two heads—one blond and one dark—disappear behind a tall snowdrift.
"Who the hell would hit me with a snowball?" Yato asks in irritation, stomping around and shaking his robes to get the last of the snow out of them.
"Maybe it was someone else you hit with a Firebolt," Hiyori innocently suggests.
"H-hey! Not fair!"
"Well then, maybe it's someone who lives around here." She grins wickedly, sliding her wand out of her sleeve. "Or maybe…something."
Yato glares at her, his eyes narrowing to cold slits. "You're not suggesting…"
While Yato's attention is diverted by Hiyori, another snowball zooms from behind the snowdrift. Flicking her wand, Hiyori skillfully misdirects it. It still hits him, but this time it comes from the direction of the Shrieking Shack. Yato yelps, dancing around in the snow and patting himself down in search of his wand.
"I am not being snowballed by a ghost!" he shouts, even as his gaze flits nervously toward the abandoned building. Loud laughter erupts from behind the snowdrift, and Hiyori manages to cover it with an authentic-sounding coughing fit.
"I'm sure it was just the wind," she assures him after both the laughing and coughing have subsided. Yato sidles away from the fence that divides them from the Shrieking Shack, edging closer to Hiyori.
The next time she looks toward the giggling snowdrift, Hiyori's jaw drops. A small mountain of powdery snow now levitates seven feet off the ground, and as she watches, thunderstruck, it begins meandering through the air toward her and Yato.
"Um, Yato." She tugs on his robe, but he is still regarding the Shrieking Shack through skeptically narrowed eyes.
"I could beat some ghosts," he mutters, starting to roll up his sleeves.
Meanwhile, the floating snow-mountain steadily approaches.
"Yato!" Hiyori grabs his chin, jerking his face around to look where she's pointing.
He takes one look at the floating snow-mountain, then lets out an earsplitting shriek. Seizing Hiyori's hand, he makes a break for it, and once more she is dragged along behind him.
: : :
Behind the snowdrift, Yukine and Suzuha collapse into hysteria. The pile of snow they had both been struggling to levitate crashes heavily to the ground. In the distance, they both hear Hiyori trying to pacify Yato, who—from the sound of it—seems to be sobbing gently into her shoulder.
"That wasn't exactly the plan," Suzuha wheezes, holding his aching ribs with one hand and wiping away tears with the other.
Next to him, Yukine snorts.
"I should have known Yato would run away screaming rather than manage to look cool in front of a girl."
"Is he gonna be mad?" Suzuha asks.
"Nah," Yukine says offhandedly, chancing another look around the edge of the snowdrift. "If anything, he should probably thank me."
With his escape hindered by the deep snow, Yato has indeed resorted to burying his face in Hiyori's robes. As she pats his back in resignation, Yukine catches her throwing reproachful looks in the direction of their snowdrift.
He scrambles back into hiding and looks over at Suzuha. A sunny grin splits his face.
"Yeah," Yukine says, bursting into laughter again. "He should definitely be thanking me."