Arthur was sitting in a corner of the corridor, reading Secrets of the Darkest Art. He figured that he should really get out of the corner and go sit in the library or somewhere that wasn't a dingy little crevice, but really, why would he? He didn't particularly want to sit in the library, where that nosy Madam Pince would most definitely screech at him for writing in a book, the common room held His Royal Brattiness Draco Malfoy, and... He had nowhere else to go. Apart from a corner. So that's where he was. In a corner. He was sure he looked odd to the students infrequently passing by, but oh well. This corner was alright.

"Hey, Artie!"

The blonde Brit cried out in shock as a boy rudely shattered the silence and came bounding up to him. Furthermore, he suddenly found himself with an extremely large chocolate bar in his hands, presumably thrust upon him by this boy (which turned out to be none other than Alfred), who was standing in from of him, happily munching on his own slab of chocolate, crumbs falling into Arthur's lap.

"Jeez, I've been looking everywhere for you! I tried the Great Hall, then the library, then I tried to sneak into your common room but failed, then I tried the bathrooms, and I only found you 'cause Padma and Lavender were giggling about Kirkland sitting in the corner next to the broken girls' bathroom, so I ran over here, and why are you here?" Alfred babbled without scarcely drawing breath. He took another bite, and more chocolate fell onto Arthur, and he glowered, putting down his book and quill.

"Alfred, if you're going to devour chocolate close to me, the least you could do is refrain from spraying it everywhere." He muttered in disgust, sweeping the residue off him. Alfred merely shrugged, grinning.

"I'll try." Was what he said, but with a tone that clearly conveyed the fact that Alfred did not give a damn. Narrowing his eyes and scowling, Arthur turned his attention to the chocolate bar given to him, and then turned back to Alfred with a questioning look. The bar didn't seem to come from Honeydukes or from any wizarding brand he knew of (and he knew most of them), so he presumed it to be a muggle brand. Hershey's, apparently.

"Mo'n'da'shen'tf'r'oo." Alfred garbled, his mouth practically stuffed to the brim.

"I'm terribly sorry, but I don't understand stupid." Arthur said coolly, and Alfred swallowed.

"I said, Mom and Dad sent it for you. It's nice. Hershey's is the best chocolate brand in America, so obviously it's the best in the world!" Explained Alfred, stuffing his wrapper in his pocket (which seemed to be rather full with wrappers). Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"Why?"

"Well, America is the best country in the world, so it only stands to reason that-"

"I'm not talking about that! I know you think of America as the Garden of Eden-"

"'Cause it is."

"BUT, I was asking why your parents sent me chocolate!" Arthur finally got out, rolling his eyes as Alfred's mouth became a big 'O' of understanding. God, for all his boasting of how he was the hero, he could be really dense.

"Then why didn't you say so?" Alfred laughed, cutting off Arthur's angry splutter, "I told my mom and dad I was taking you to the Yule Ball, and they sent you chocolate. Apparently they were hoping I'd take you, ever since they heard that there was going to be a ball."

Arthur blinked, dumbfounded. So... Did Alfred's parents want them to be together? Well, that was certainly a strange revelation. He never thought he'd be the 'parent's choice'. It was kind of a nice feeling, actually.

"They really like you, y'know. You're pretty much that kid who the family never stops asking about. Y'know, stuff like 'Are you still friends with Arthur?', 'Do you want to invite Arthur over?', 'How is Arthur doing these days?'," Alfred went on, chuckling.

"Seriously?" Arthur replied. "I didn't realise I was such a model kid."

"I didn't either, but parents think strange, don't they? I have this feeling that they want you as a second son..." Alfred mused, and Arthur felt his face burn. Second son. Son-in-law. Marriage. To Alfred. Arthur Jones. Hm. He liked that. It sounded nice. And friendly. And warm.

"Hey, Earth to Artie!"

Arthur was jolted out of his marriage reverie (never going there again, I liked it too much, he thought) and was staring blankly into round blue eyes, which crinkled with amusement.

"You look like you've just seen a really hot ghost." He teased. Arthur focused in on the situation, registered Alfred's words, then stared at him in confusion.

"A... Really hot... Ghost?"

"Well, yeah, 'cause your eyes were wide like you'd just seen a ghost, but you were really red, like the ghost had been the hottest thing on no legs." Alfred explained, chortling at his own joke. Arthur blinked, then understood. Oh. Alfred had gone into his muggle-world again.

"Alfred, ghosts are normal in the wizarding world, remember?" Arthur reminded with an exasperated sigh which turned into a yelp as, speak of the devil, a ghost flitted through him, leaving him chilly.

"Oh yeah..." Alfred said, grinning sheepishly. "Muggle phrases are hard to let go of, you know?"

"Not really, considering I've only known wizarding idioms." Arthur answered, smiling in spite of himself. Really, he knew no other person who forgot they were magical. Alfred was seriously a precious idiot.

"Anyway, forgetting the topic of majorly-hot ghosts, what I asked you when you were spacing out was," He did a little spin then flashed a winning smile, and you could practically see a twinkle at the corner of his mouth, "What do your parents think of me?"

Arthur blanched.

His fingers curled around the chocolate bar, clenching it.

His gaze fell from Alfred's earnest face, hiding the panic in them.

"Artie?" Alfred's voice was slightly muffled, as if there was glass between them.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't hurt Alfred like that.

Alfred's family was full of kind people.

He couldn't open Alfred to the world of imperfect families.

He couldn't tell Alfred about how much the Kirkland family loathed him.

"Arthur!"

"My parents think you're fine. Nothing special. Sorry." He attempted a smile, or a smirk, whatever worked. But all it ended up being was a grimace. "I guess being amazing at Quidditch doesn't warrant admiration from the Kirklands."

"You're lying."

Arthur flinched.

He turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Alfred.

"Seriously?" He laughed, attempting to 'do an Alfred' and make the atmosphere lighter. But it seemed Alfred was immune to his own tricks, and he held Arthur's gaze carefully through his rectangular glasses. He sank down to join Arthur in his corner.

"Please, Artie. You may think I'm stupid, but I can tell when you're hiding something. I can tell when you're sad." Alfred said, his voice a little quieter than normal. Arthur let out a short laugh. Alfred couldn't read the atmosphere to save his life, and yet here he was, sussing out Arthur's emotions like a pro. This was at the bottom of his 'What I Expect Will Happen During My Lifetime' list, for sure.

"Artie. What's the matter?" Alfred asked softly. Arthur hung his head, avoiding Alfred's gaze. He didn't want to say anything. It was too close a topic, too personal. He couldn't just let Alfred know. It hurt too much. It hurt like hell.

"Nothing's the matter. Apart from the fact that you're invading my personal space." Diversion tactics. They'd work. Alfred was an easily distracted boy.

"I've sat on the same chair as you before, I don't think this matters." He pointed out. "But seriously, Artie, just tell me. I don't want you upset."

It seemed Alfred wasn't to be deterred.

Sighing, Arthur replied quietly, "And what on Earth could you do to make the problem go away? Bloody nothing, that's what."

"I'd do whatever I could. I'll always do whatever I can to make you happy. You have my word."

Arthur slowly tilted his head up, and his viridescent eyes locked with Alfred's azure ones. Alfred's eyes showed nothing but care and love, and Arthur realised that if he didn't tell Alfred, he'd tell nobody, and his predicament would slowly eat him alive, alone. Maybe Alfred would be able to prevent it. Maybe.

He sighed in resignation, now looking at the chocolate in his lap. What a nice gesture. Simply because he had said yes.

"You do believe me, don't you?" Alfred. Pure, wonderful Alfred. Really, what else could he even ask for? The best thing in the universe had already willingly handed itself over to him.

"Yes." Arthur whispered, and steeled himself. It was now, or never.

"Ever since my first year at Hogwarts, my own parents have made summers the worst times ever." Arthur revealed, his voice carefully deadpanned so as not to reveal any of the emotional turmoil bubbling inside of him. He waited for Alfred to say something, but there was merely silence. He was waiting for Arthur to go on. So he swallowed, and continued.

"My family... They're pretty much the equivalent of the Malfoys. Rich, socially superior, and evil. They were Death Eaters, Alfred. My parents were Death Eaters. Even after the Dark Lord's fall, they held onto their ways, although they outwardly renounced him. It was actually quite darkly funny sometimes. They'd be having tea with Ministry officials in a room full of the darkest artefacts, and they were never found out." Arthur chuckled lowly. "They love fooling the Ministry, my parents." He heaved a reminiscent sigh. However evil his parents were, the laughs that they had after the tea parties finished were pure gold.

"I was brought up in this dark household, and I grew up learning the ways of Dark wizards. I was taught that 'mudbloods' were nothing but filth and garbage, not worthy of my attention." He felt Alfred tense next to him, and Arthur felt a rush of sympathy. Alfred had unfortunately gotten more than his fair share of 'mudblood' insults, and to learn that his best friend was taught to partake in this must have been hard. But nevertheless, he said nothing, silently telling Arthur that it was alright, he should continue.

"I came to Hogwarts with this mindset. I was to be in the noble house Slytherin, and was not to consort with any 'mudblood' or 'blood traitor'. They were simply disgusting things at the bottom on my shoe, annoying and to be discarded of immediately. In essence, I came to Hogwarts with the mindset of Draco Malfoy."

"So how come you're not like that now?" Alfred asked, both softly and curiously. Arthur smirked ruefully, lowly laughing. This was going to sound so clichéd, and yet, it was the truth. He flicked his head to the side and let his eyes meet with Alfred's, amusement bright in them.

"It's so stupidly simple." Would he ever stop marvelling at those big blue eyes, trained on Arthur and giving him the courtesy of having undivided attention?

"I met you."

Arthur let the words sink in. He watched as Alfred went from normal to dusty pink in less than five seconds, and cleared his throat loudly, trying his best to ignore the light blush.

"Wh-What d'ya mean?" He questioned hastily.

"Do you remember the first words I said to you?" Arthur asked. He knew Alfred would. The gryffindor didn't remember much, but sure enough, Alfred nodded.

"Get out of my way, worthless... Idiot." Alfred recited in a very fake British accent, putting the pause in the right place. Arthur nodded.

"And there you have it." He said simply.

"...Have what?"

"I was going to call you a worthless mudblood. But when I actually got a look at you, I just... Couldn't." Arthur shook his head. God, he had made a vow to himself that Alfred would never know about this, but it seemed that the vow was now broken. Everything was coming out, and if Arthur wanted to stop it, he couldn't. The words that he had kept to himself for four years were flowing out as easily as liquid, and he knew that they wouldn't stop. He realised that he needed to talk about this, and therefore his own self wouldn't let him stop. "You looked too innocently cheery to be called a mudblood. I found that for some reason, I'd never forgive myself, or anyone else, for calling you something so cruel." Arthur elaborated, now slightly erubescent as well. Why, oh why did Alfred have to be the reason for Arthur's change?

"So that's why you randomly punched Malfoy when he called me that." Alfred breathed, realisation just striking him. "I always wondered why you did that. I mean, we weren't even friends then."

"I just saw your face fall and I... I couldn't take it. I wasn't your friend, but I was your classfellow, and I did see you quite a lot. You were always incessantly energetic and happy, and it should have irritated me. I mean, it did - it does - but an annoyingly-cheery Alfred was better than an upset Alfred; an Alfred upset because of slurs I was brought up to make. I suppose hitting Malfoy was my turning point. I also suppose it was then that... That I made the decision that no one has the right to hurt you, and I'd break their fucking necks if they tried." Arthur snarled at the burning memory of two days ago, in the common room with Malfoy. Alfred was quiet for a moment, and Arthur presumed he was taking all this in. It must have been quite the revelation; sarcastic, critical Arthur was saved from the cruel traditions of the Kirkland family by the dorky self-proclaimed hero sitting next to him.

"That's sweet and all, and I really appreciate it, Artie, but I think we were talking about your problem?" Alfred reminded. Arthur scowled down at his hands. Even that didn't deter Alfred. God, he hated this topic. But Alfred wasn't going to relent, so he went on. It wasn't as if it was hard now, anyway.

"So after meeting you, I changed. I mean, I still love the Dark Arts, but I don't plan to use them on innocents. I stopped referring to muggle-borns as mudbloods though, and I don't even believe in blood-traitors anymore. I made friends in those of statuses other than pureblood, and ditched the friends whose aspirations were probably to become future Death Eaters."

"Needless to say, when I came home in the summer and told my parents that I had renounced their ways, they were furious. They couldn't believe it, really. I had always been the model pureblood. They asked me why, but I couldn't tell them. I don't actually know how they would've interfered if I had told them it was because of a single stupid muggle-born."

Arthur grimaced, feeling his eyes become hot. The memory of that first night back home still hurt him terribly; he had been yelled at and insulted by his own family, who had loved him dearly for years, just for being good. The event had shaken him; that was the day he realised that his family didn't love him like a family should; they simply loved the fact that he had been looking like a worthy heir to the Kirkland name. They didn't love Arthur Kirkland. They loved Arthur Kirkland's value.

"They found out anyway, after a whole month of carefully not mentioning you at all." Arthur continued. His hands were clenched into fists now, his blunt fingernails pressing into his skin, probably leaving angry red crescents. "They read your letter. Managed to deduce that you're a muggle-born." Blood oozed out of the crescent slits left by his nails. He muttered bitterly, "They burnt it. Ripped it up and tossed it into the fire. Hence you got no letter back from me. I didn't know your address."

"Hang on," Alfred interrupted. "You said that you couldn't be bothered replying."

"I lied." Arthur said curtly. "I decided that having you whine and whinge at me was better than telling you the truth."

"But don't you see?!" Alfred blurted out suddenly, grabbing Arthur by the shoulders and forcing him to face the taller blonde. "If you had told me, I could've done something sooner! I could've helped you, I could've made you happier, I could've done something!"

"Alfred, like I said, what the hell could you possibly do? Write to my parents saying 'PLEASE let Artie be my best friend!'?" Arthur said sardonically.

"I could've told my parents, or maybe a Howler, or something! For God's sake Artie, stop being so damn stubborn!" Alfred yelled, his voice filled with emotion, and then pulled a startled Arthur into his strong arms, one hand just below his shoulder blades, and the other on the middle of his back. His chin rested on the American's shoulder, and it was all he could do to stop himself from burying his face in the crook of his neck, letting go of his pride. He resigned himself to simply closing his eyes, finding comfort in the warmth and care of Alfred's protective embrace. His home life was a wreck; a wreck he had to return to every summer. But if Alfred was here, at Hogwarts, with his friendly grin and infectious laugh, then he could endure those visits back to the Kirkland Mansion.

Alfred pulled away, and Arthur felt cold again. He avoided Alfred's eyes and instead stared down at his lap, appearing intensely interested in playing around with his fingers. He wouldn't ever admit to anyone but himself that Alfred's embrace was one of the best things he'd ever felt, and he'd never tire of the feel. It made him feel like everything was okay. That every aspect of his life was sunshine and rainbows.

"Artie... I don't get it." Alfred spoke, breaking the silence.

"Get what?" Arthur replied.

"You've been to my house before. Every summer you come round. How?"

Arthur grinned. "I made portkeys. I couldn't stay in the house, so I portkeyed to your house every summer. I knew you wouldn't mind."

"I bet your parents didn't like that."

"They don't. But it's pretty hard to stop me making portkeys. I mean, they could've taken my wand, but that's like turning me into a Squib, and no 'self-respecting' family wants a Squib, it seems." Arthur said, grimacing. There was silence for a couple of minutes, each student absorbed in their own thoughts.

"... I think I hate your family. Sorry, dude." Alfred said finally, barely a hint of sheepishness in his voice. Arthur shrugged.

"So do I. And I know that the feeling's reciprocated." He said simply, nonchalantly.

"So there you have it. The very reason that my parents don't like you, and by extension the reason I haven't told them that I'm going with you to the Ball." Said Arthur, a note of finality in his voice. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. It was done.

But, to Arthur's dismay, it seemed Alfred wasn't having it. Stupid caring git.

The American started frantically rummaging in his pockets and other nooks and crannies of his clothes for something or the other, muttering to himself as he did so. A piece of parchment was finally pulled out, and Alfred gave a happy gasp when he saw it. Then he thrust it into Arthur's hands.

"Write to your parents." Alfred instructed, a wide smirk upon his face. "Tell them you're taking Alfred F. Jones, your muggle-born friend, to the Yule Ball, a historical magical tradition. That'll give them a hissy fit! They can't even tell you off or hurt you; you're at Hogwarts!"

Arthur's virescent eyes dilated, and he shook his head frantically, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. He couldn't do that. Tell his parents? No. No no no. Stupid idea. Summers would be even more nightmarish, and he couldn't deal with that. Failure and dishonour and shame reverberated off the walls of his mind and he couldn't shut it out, couldn't get rid of it, but he needed to, he really needed to, for fuck's sake he could hear his parents' mocking scorns as easily as if they were there, and that fact was horrifying, and-

"Arthur."

Alfred's warm hands were covering his own, encasing them in tenderness. He was brought out of his self-destructive thought process, and his vision became clearer, more focused.

"Writing to them like this will make you feel better. It's in all the movies and everything; telling the ones who bring you down that you're doing the very thing that they wouldn't want you to do is seriously one of the best things you could do! So, write. I'll help, if you want." Alfred insisted, his eyes earnestly shining like the stars in the sky. Arthur closed his eyes, scoffing. Really, how could he even say no to such enthusiasm? He'd regret this decision for the rest of his life. But maybe, just maybe, Alfred's right...

So he nodded. "I'll do it."

"That's the spirit!" Alfred said encouragingly, his face breaking into a wide smile.

"If this backfires, I'm blaming you. No Chocolate Frogs at Christmas." Arthur joked.

"Hey, no fair!" Alfred pouted, putting his hands on his hips crossly. Arthur merely laughed, then turned to the parchment and quill in his hands. He had to write it now, when the resolve was still strong.

Dear Mother and Father, Arthur scribed, the quill scratching being the only sound he could hear. Then he faltered. What was he supposed to write? He hadn't written a letter to his parents since the start of his second year. Granted, this wasn't an ordinary letter, but still.

"I'm happy to say that I'm taking the stunningly-handsome hero Alfred F. Jones to the Yule Ball. And yeah, he's a muggle-born, so SUCK IT LOSERS!" Alfred dictated proudly.

"I can't send something like that to my parents!" Arthur yelled, though he couldn't help thinking of their rather humourous expressions if he let Alfred write. However, he didn't, so he mulled over what to write for a little longer, then finally put quill to parchment. His clammy hand shook as he wrote the words, but his writing was legible and looked mostly normal, if a bit more wobbly.

How are you? It's been a while since I have written. I am fine, as is Flying Mint Bunny. I'm writing to tell you about my plans for the upcoming Yule Ball, an event which you obviously know all about. First of all, I've changed those lime-green robes you gave me to dark, bottle green. Lime-green is just hideous.

"When did you change them?" Alfred asked. "'Cause you told me, like, a week ago, that they were lime-green..."

"It was the day you asked me, when I realised that I was actually going to the Ball. I didn't care about their colour before, as I intended to skip it. But seeing as how I am going, I needed to do something about the terrible colour choice." Arthur explained. "You know what, my parents probably picked the worst colour for dress robes on purpose..."

I've also found someone to take to the Ball. He was about to write 'date', but he felt himself get embarrassed at the thought. He's a friend of mine. Alfred F. Jones. You know him. He's the muggle-born I portkey to every summer.

"... What else?" Arthur asked. Alfred merely shrugged.

"I say keep it small. It shows that you're only interested in annoying them!" Alfred suggested.

"I suppose I'll do that, then."

I hope you have a good Christmas.

Arthur.

He sank in relief after dotting the last dot. He had done it. He had written the letter.

"Now we need to post it!" Alfred declared, pulling Arthur up by the hand and running with him all the way to the Owlery.

"We'll use Freedom." Alfred decided once they got there, Arthur panting as he climbed the last few stairs.

"Where the hell do you get all that energy?!" Arthur wheezed.

"It came as a freebie when I was born." Alfred laughed, then started whistling for his owl which gave a screeching hoot as it landed on Alfred's shoulder.

"Hey there, buddy!" Alfred greeted, scratching the majestic eagle owl on the neck. Freedom gave a happy hoot in return. "I need you to post this for me, okay?" He held up Arthur's brief letter for Freedom to take in his beak. "It's for Artie's parents. You know where they live, don't ya dude?"

Freedom hooted once again, nipped Alfred's finger playfully, then set off through the large, circular window, away from Hogwarts and to the Kirkland Mansion.

Arthur felt weak at the knees.

He had done it.

"You alright, dude? You look a little shaky." Alfred commented, stuffing his hands in his pockets and grinning. Arthur stared at Alfred through his lashes.

This wanker.

This stupid, idiotic wanker had helped him lift a huge weight within his chest. Alfred, with his cheery grin and beautiful blue eyes had aided him in dispelling his demons. Alfred, with his buoyant and dynamic personality had made sure he felt better about life as a whole. All with a caring smile.

God, he had fallen hard.

"Artie, you wanna-"

Whatever he was going to say, he was cut off as Arthur ran at Alfred and wrapped his arms around him tightly, needily. The shorter blonde buried his face in the crook of the American's shoulder, and breathed in Alfred's familiar scent. He smelt of coffee, cocoa, and fizzy drinks. Three jarring fragrances, but mixing perfectly to create a scent that Arthur couldn't live without. He smiled contently when Alfred reciprocated his hug enthusiastically.

"Thank you." Arthur whispered into Alfred's neck, just loud enough for him to hear. Alfred placed his hand on Arthur's head and gently ran his fingers through the Brit's hair, and Arthur relaxed at the touch. He needn't worry about anything at home. He had Alfred.

"No problem, Artie."

And really, he couldn't ask for anything, or anyone, better.

A/N- Have some more filler! Oh, you'd like some actual plot with that? Sorry, we've run out. A new shipment will be coming in sometime in the future!

As for when, I have no idea.

Y'know, this story wasn't meant to exceed three chapters. And look. FML.

So, I have no idea why the hell I wrote this. I didn't need to. I suppose it gives some not-really-needed backstory... And we can't have one of MY stories being 100% happy! Pfft, the idea is laughable!

I've written the Yule Ball chapter about three times, each version slightly different. Only thing is, they were all written on my phone, and... My phone's pretty broken. So I'm internally screaming right now =n= Luckily, I remember the gist of it XP

Oh, and about the lime-green robes. I searched up the colour, and I thought 'Why the hell did I write lime-green?!' So I quickly rectified that wardrobe malfunction here XD

On a side note, I went to see the Cursed Child the other day! :D And let me tell you, it is MORE THAN PHENOMENAL. And the actors knew it; they came for three curtain calls XD Everything about it is brilliant; you can't appreciate it fully with merely the script. But, uhm, if you haven't got tickets already, good luck getting some for like, soon. You'll be able to see it in 2018 at the earliest!

Well, that's all from me. Hasta la pasta! :D