You-know-who has returned. All wizards, witches and sentient magical folk are to remain in their homes. Do not open your doors to anyone. Renew your wards. Seal your fireplaces. For the next twenty-four hours all means of magical transportation, including but not limited to apparition, portkeys and/or travel by broom, is strictly forbidden. Aurors are authorised to and will stun on sight. Further information regarding the lockdown of Wizarding Britain to follow. This is not a drill. I repeat. This is not a drill.

8:00 pm

The kitchen radio stutters back into silence.

"This is a fucking joke." Marcus looks at the training schedule in his hand, then up at Wood and then back to the roll of parchment in his hand.

Wood, obviously in shock after the sudden message over the wireless, makes some sort of noise and then hurries out of the kitchen and into another room. Marcus can hear him cast a seal on the fireplace.

"I should have asked for it by owl." He carelessly flings the parchment onto the rackety looking kitchen table and sinks down onto one of the chairs. "Bloody typical." Marcus mutters on. Maybe he can just walk home. "Wood! Where do you live? Can I walk to London from here?" No answer. "Oi, Wood! I asked you a question."

Marcus groans. Why did he suggest to coach Malcom that it'd be a good idea to have his team, the Falmouth Falcons reserves, play a game against the Puddlemere United reserves? Why had coach said 'Oh, yeah, brilliant idea, lad! We just need their training schedule so we can coordinate.' Why had he volunteered to get it?

"Wood! I'm talking to you."

Again, no answer. He sighs deeply. Marcus gets to his feet to venture further into Wood's lair. Okay, maybe not lair. It's a one-bedroom somewhere in England. Maybe Scotland. Hopefully not Scotland. Who knows. So far he's only seen the tiny living room where he flooed in and the kitchen. Not that he wants to see more. He just wanted the sodding training schedule, not a grand tour of chez Wood.

"Wood." Marcus opens to what he can remember is the living room door. "What are you doing? Surely it doesn't take this long to-"

Wood's sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, his legs pulled up all the way towards his chin and his arms tightly wrapped around them. There's sheer panic on his face and his mouth is moving but no words are coming out.

"Wood?" Nothing. Marcus isn't sure what he's meant to do. Obviously the other wizard is having a panic attack. It's probably a normal reaction upon hearing that the darkest wizard of their time has made a return. Or it's the realisation that his arch enemy (namely him) is stuck in his flat for the next twenty-four hours. "Are you alright?"

Wood finally looks at him. "Am I alright?! Are you serious? Did you, by any chance, not hear the fucking Minister for Magic announce just now that you-know-bloody-who is back?"

"Obviously I heard it. But we kind of already knew, didn't we?" Marcus shrugs and lets himself sink onto the small sofa across from the fireplace that's now flickering with a stale blue flame signalling that it's shut off from the floo network. "There was an article in the Quibbler."

"You read the Quib-whatever. I know that we knew. But it's like…it's official now." Wood seems to relax a little, slowly unclenching his arms and letting his long legs stretch out in front of him. "We're at war now."

Marcus supposes he's right. "Do you think they'll stop the games?"

Wood's head snaps up. "Surely not. They can't." He scrambles to his feet and starts pacing the living room. It's a short walk in either direction. "If we're really at war then we'll need Quidditch more than ever."

"We do. Anyway." Marcus watches Wood abandon his pacing for a moment to peek out of the window. "Can I walk to London from here?"

Wood abruptly shuts the curtains. "What?" He starts pacing again.

"Can I walk to London? You heard the announcement. They've banned all magical transportation." Marcus focuses on the coffee table top in front of him, Wood's irate walking is making him dizzy.

"Do you not know where I live?" Wood picks up his wand from the fireplace mantle and mutters a couple of protective enchantments. Marcus can feel the magic seep into the walls around them.

"Why should I?" He briefly considers adding a few wards of his own, but Wood's so jumpy he probably wouldn't take well to Marcus doing any magic just now.

Wood shrugs. "Fair. Well you can't walk to London. It's too far."

"I don't mind a walk." Marcus really doesn't, not if it means he won't have to spend the next twenty-four hours in Wood's tiny flat. "I'd enjoy it, really."

"Alright." Wood smirks at him, his skin is still pale from the shock. He looks ghastly. "Enjoy walking to London from fucking Scotland then."

Marcus groans. Of course Wood lives on the other end of the sodding country. And Marcus can't floo, can't fly and surely can't bloody walk home. Sod the sodding Dark sodding Lord. "Fuck."

"Timed your visit well, haven't you?" Wood mocks, still a tinge of panic in his voice though.

Marcus hears the implications of his words straight away. "What? Do you think I knew that he was going to bloody reveal himself tonight?" He pushes up the sleeve of his left arm. "Oh, would you look at that. The dark mark must have come off in the shower. I better go and get it redone before I lose some house points." He gets to his feet and shoves his arm into Wood's face. "Or worse, before the Dark Lord makes me sit on the naughty step."

Wood swats his arm away. "Alright! Alright. But just because you don't-"

"I am not a fucking Death Eater, Wood." Marcus clenches his hands into fists, he's so tempted to punch the sodding idiot. "I am not one of them."

Wood scowls at him. "Well, I won't apologise for assuming. It's not like it'd be farfetched." The keeper sinks into one of the armchairs.

Marcus takes a deep breath. "Fuck you, Wood."

9:00 pm

The grandfather clock in the corner chimes on the full hour and both of them flinch. Marcus ignores the pang of hunger in his stomach. He dares another look at Wood who's been staring at the blue flame in the fireplace for the past hour.

"You can't unlock the floo." Marcus says, just in case Wood's planning on ignoring the Ministry message and send him through the floo anyway.

"I am not going to." Wood grumbles, his eyes still on the blue flame. "I'm just wondering whether the fire's strong enough to burn myself to death with."

Marcus huffs. "Don't be so bloody dramatic, Wood."

He doesn't know what the other wizard's problem is. It's obviously not an ideal situation but surely Marcus is the one worse off. He could be spending this lockdown in his Chelsea townhouse, being waited on hand and foot by his house elf Ninny and not stuck in a tiny flat somewhere in sodding Scotland.

"I just want to know what is going on. I hate being out of the loop." Wood jumps to his feet, only to sink back into the armchair instantly. "Pins and needles." He groans and starts massaging his left thigh.

Marcus watches Wood's hand going up and down his thigh in short, clipped movements. What were they talking about again? Oh, yeah. "Obviously the Dark Lord has shown up in the Ministry. Fudge must have seen him with his own eyes or he'd never admitted that you-know-who is back." Wood's letting go of his thigh and Marcus finds thinking a little easier now. "And now they are trying to catch him. Hence the ban on magical transportation."

"So the aurors are tracing all movement across the nation hoping to just stumble on you-know-who?" Wood stretches his left leg out, then pulls it back towards him. He repeats the movement a couple of times before attempting to stand up again.

"I suppose they are. Makes sense that they wouldn't want everyone and their kitchen sink on the move." Wood has now started stretching his arms over his head. "Announcing it by highjacking radios, gramophones and other audio equipment around wizarding folk is probably the fastest-what the fuck are you doing now?"

Wood is bending over, his long fingers touching the very tips of his toes. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm stretching. We've been sitting still for an hour."

Marcus huffs. Wood moving around is highly distracting. It's making him nervous. "Stop it. You look like a twat."

"Shut up, Flint. This is my flat. I can do what I want." Wood bends down to touch his toes again.

"Sure. You can do what you want and look like a twat doing it." Marcus looks away from him. "I'm hungry." Wood pauses mid-bend and Marcus' eyes flicker towards him again. Oh, Merlin. "Can you stop that now? Please."

Wood raises an eyebrow but uprights himself. "If it bothers you that much." He walks towards the door, leaning against its frame. "You coming, or what?"

"Coming?" He splutters and clears his throat. "Where?"

"The kitchen, knobhead." The former Gryffindor captain disappears through the door.

Marcus takes a moment to breathe. One hour in and he's already losing it. When he gets to the kitchen, Wood's half-hidden behind the door to the muggle icebox. Fridgerator. Something like that. Marcus studies the strong lines of the other wizards' back.

"What do you fancy?"

Heat rushes to his face. "Pardon?"

Wood turns around to look at him. " . ."

Marcus scowls. " . .Kettle."

"Just answer my question, Flint." Wood crosses his arms in front of him. "Unless that's what you fancy?"

"What?" Marcus retreats to the kitchen table. "Arse?"

They stare at each other for a moment until Wood half-disappears back into the fridgerator. Marcus doesn't know why he said that. Now all he can think about is-

"I've got cheese on toast. Or toast with cheese. Alternatively, also cheese and toast." Wood's mumbling voice comes out of the ice box.

"Sure. Whatever." Marcus is just glad about the change of topic.

Wood retrieves a block of cheese, butter and then a loaf of bread from a different cupboard. "You just relax while I do all the work."

Marcus leans back on his chair. "Alright."

"Seriously?" Wood lobs the loaf of bread at him. "I'm not your sodding house elf."

The bread is saved from an unhygienic meeting with Wood's floor by Marcus' superb reflexes. "If you were my house elf you'd be ironing your fingers for all the swearing you've been doing."

Wood looks at him incredulously. "Please tell me you are joking."

"Where do you keep your knives?" Marcus starts riffling through the kitchen drawers.

"Flint. Do you make your house elf iron its hands?" Wood shoves the knife block towards him.

Marcus extracts a bread knife and then opens some more drawers to find a chopping board. "Of course not." Wood squints his eyes at him but then points him towards a cupboard over the sink. "Ironing fingers is so last year. It's all about heads down the loo now."

"Flint!" Wood says and then laughs. Only briefly and they both look at each other in shock when he stops. "Merlin. Did I…did I just laugh at something you said?"

Marcus starts slicing the bread. "Let's forget about it."

Wood makes some agreeable noises while he fishes a frying pan out of yet another cupboard. "Yeah. Whatever happens in government imposed lockdown stays in government imposed lockdown."

Their eyes meet for a moment. The rest of the cooking is done in silence.

We urge the wizards and witches of Britain to remain indoors. This is not the time to take your crup for a walk. Visiting your great-cousin Herbert is not a priority in these trying times. Aurors have already stunned and fined twenty-five wizards and witches. Any wizarding folk found traipsing around the country will be taken to Azkaban for the remainder of the lockdown period. This is not a drill. I repeat. This is NOT a drill.

10:00 pm

"There is no way they are going to cancel the European championship. They can't." Marcus shoves the now empty plate towards the middle of the table. "It's in Italy. Who cares if Britain's at war?"

Wood wets his index finger with his tongue and runs it across his plate. "I don't know. They might cancel it because of some international solidarity bollocks." He licks the crumbs off his finger. "Why didn't you-know-who wait until after the cup?"

Marcus' eyes follow Wood's finger searching for crumbs again. "It's very inconsiderate."

There it is again. Another amused snort. "Since when are you funny?"

"Always have been. You've just always been too offended to appreciate my wit." Marcus takes a sip from his butterbeer. It's lukewarm by now but he doesn't mind.

Wood regards him for a moment. "Do you want something harder?"

The butterbeer goes down the wrong way and Marcus coughs. "What the fuck, Wood?! Stop it with the..the…just stop it."

"I don't know what you mean." Wood smirks and deposits the two empty plates in the sink. "I've got some Glenfiddich?"

"What's that?" Marcus abandons his beer just in case Wood says something inappropriate again.

"Scotch. Muggle whisky." Wood opens a cupboard and gets out two tumblers and a tall bottle filled with amber liquid. "Less bite than firewhiskey but all the better for it."

They retire to the living room, Wood taking the armchair again and Marcus sitting down on the chintzy sofa. "Why is everything so minuscule in your flat?"

Wood unscrews the bottle and fills the glasses with about two inches of muggle liquor. "It used to be my gran's." He contemplates his pouring and then adds another good inch.

"So you didn't pick this lovely floral pattern?" Marcus gestures at the sofa below him.

"Well, I don't hate it." Wood hands him one of the glasses.

Marcus snorts. "Must go down well with the ladies." He takes the tumbler.

Wood clears his throat. "Yeah. They..erm.. yeah. The ladies." He raises the glass. "To British emergency protocols?"

"Sure." Marcus clinks his tumbler against Wood's. They share another look that Marcus still can't quite read but that always feels like Wood is assessing him and then drain their glasses. The whisky is smooth and goes down way too easily. "That's actually alright."

"Told you." Wood fills their glasses up again and holds one out towards Marcus. "Mum got me a crate of it for my birthday."

Marcus accepts the proffered drink. "I don't even know when your birthday is."

Wood frowns. "Do you want to know?"

"I'm not sure." Marcus twirls the amber liquid. "Okay. Why not. When is your birthday, Wood?"

"Twelfth of March." Wood leans back onto his chair.

Marcus snorts. "I should have known you're a pisces."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You cry all the time."

"I do not!" Wood winces when he spills a little of his drink. "When is your birthday then?"

"Fifteenth of November."

Wood worries his lip. Marcus focuses back on his drink. "Okay, I don't know my star signs."

"Scorpio." Marcus leans forward and raises his glass. "To water signs."

Wood softly touches his glass against his. "Two things we've got in common then. Quidditch and astrology."

"That's it?" Marcus drains his glass. It really does go down too easily. "And people wonder why we never got on."

"Did they?" Wood studies his drink but then also empties the tumbler in one go.

"Well, I don't know. It's just a turn of phrase."

"Is it?"

Marcus fills up the glasses this time. "Fuck knows. I want to prove them wrong though. I'm sure we've got more in common than two sodding things."

"Right. Mhm. So I didn't fail my N.E.W.T.s."

"Fuck off, Wood. I did pass eventually."

Wood laughs and then ducks when Marcus throws one of the flowery cushions at his face. "Alright, sorry. Okay. Favourite colour?"

"Green."

"Of course it is."

"Well, what is yours then?"

"Purple."

"Purple?" Marcus pulls a face. "Really?"

Wood shrugs. "Yeah. Like heather. I don't know. I just like to go for hikes in the Highlands. It's pretty."

"Alright. Food?"

"Quite like cheese toasties." Wood grins. "Simple pleasures and whatnot."

Marcus stops his brain from running wild at Wood saying 'pleasure'. "I think it's simple tastes. Not pleasures."

Wood goes a bit pink at that. "Right. Sure. Don't know why I said that. To simple tastes then?"

"No." Marcus raises his glass. "Let's go for pleasures."

"Not simple pleasures?"

Another long and unreadable exchange of looks. "They're never simple though, are they?"

Wood breaks eye contact first. "Definitely not."

They empty their glasses. Marcus can feel the comfortable warmth of the alcohol settling in his bones. He knows he's going to be more than a little drunk very soon but he doesn't stop Wood from filling up their glasses once more.

"We both like to drink." Marcus says as he accepts the whisky.

Wood nods. "Three."

"We both think that Quidditch places too much emphasis on seekers and they are the only fault in an otherwise flawless sport."

"Four." Wood tightens the screw on the now almost empty bottle. "We don't actually hate each other?"

Marcus smirks. "I'll deny it outside these four walls, but yes, we don't hate each other."

"Lockdown rules: Nothing leaves the confinements of my home." Wood raises his glass towards Marcus.

"I'll drink to that." They clink glasses and down them in one. "So, any dark secrets you want to share?"

Wood's cheeks turn rosy again. "I couldn't get it up the first time."

"For fucks sake, Wood! You are doing this on purpose!" Marcus puts his glass down with much more force than necessary.

The other wizard laughs. "Sorry, couldn't resist. But really. I think Hooch thought I was a complete moron. Took me forever to summon my broom."

Marcus fills their glasses again, emptying the bottle by doing so. "You showed her though. Didn't you make the team in your second year?"

Wood nods. "Yeah. Charlie Weasley was brave for leaving a lanky thirteen year old in charge of the hoops."

"Mhm." Marcus visualises the red-headed Gryffindor. "Charlie Weasley was..erm. Very competent. He was a very competent player."

Wood raises an eyebrow at him. "Yeah. Very competent." He worries his lip for a moment, a calculating look in his eyes. "Good looking, as well. For a bloke."

Marcus' eyes linger on Wood's lips for maybe a second too long."I suppose. For a bloke." He clears his throat. "But he was a seeker."

"Yeah. And we don't like seekers, do we."

Marcus raises his glass. "To not liking seekers."

11:00 pm

"He did not say that!" Wood laughs, no he is giggling, as he fills their glasses from their second bottle of Glenfiddich.

Marcus stretches across the length of the sofa, his long legs hanging off the other side. "He did. And Hooch told him that if she'd wanted to hear a bitch moan about overly girthy objects she would have stayed with her ex-girlfriend."

Wood snorts and quite a bit of the whisky misses its destination and lands on the coffee table instead. "Merlin, I do not want to think about Hooch and her sex life."

"Trust me. The visual is haunting me to this day. I'd have always pegged Hooch for a power bottom though."

"Pegged? And you dare complain about me saying inappropriate things? Honestly, Flint." He picks up both of the glasses and sways over to the sofa. "Scoot over."

Marcus gets back into a sitting position, his head only spinning a little. "Shit." Okay, maybe a lot. "I'm so pissed." And still he accepts the glass.

"Same. Well, it's not like we can do much else in this sodding lockdown." Wood raises his glass. "What haven't we drunk to yet?"

"Fuck knows. But let's not drink to Hooch's girthy strap-ons."

Wood pulls a face. "Let's not." He leans back against the sofa, his shoulder pressing against Marcus'. "It's not so bad though, is it? The lockdown?"

Marcus studies the liquid in his glass. "Mhm. Definitely not so bad now compared to how it felt three hours ago."

"Merlin, I thought I was going to have a panic attack when Fudge's voice came out of that bloody radio."

"Was going to have? Mate, you had one." Marcus shifts his legs a little and then his thigh is leaning against Woods.

"Maybe a little." Wood stretches his legs out. "Probably more about you being stuck here for twenty-four hours though."

"Knew it!" Marcus turns his upper body towards Wood so he can face him properly. "I knew you were devastated about me not being able to leave."

Wood smiles at him. "Well, devastated is a little harsh."

"Shattered. Crushed. Traumatised. Ravaged."

"Alright, thesaurus." Wood rolls his eyes. "Ravaged? You're such a ponce."

Marcus can't help but return his smile. "You're just jealous that I can speak proper English."

"Oi. I speak proper English."

"The Queen would take offence to you saying that."

"The Queen bloody loves Scotland."

"Well, I suppose there's a certain charm to it."

Wood is grinning now. "Oh yeah? Have you fallen for it then?"

Marcus' head feels a little funny. Before he can think too much about it he leans forward and presses his lips against Wood's. There's a moment where neither of them is moving and then their glasses tumble to the floor and Wood's pulling him closer. Marcus doesn't quite know what to do with his hands and somehow they end up in Wood's hair. His hair is soft and so are his lips and there's a tongue on Marcus' bottom lip and then Wood's tongue is in his mouth. Wood's pulling him closer but Marcus doesn't want to be the one that's sitting in the other one's lap so he just presses the other wizard down and after some grappling, he's got Wood under him, and he's kneeling between his legs. Wood's got his hands on his shirt, pulling him even closer and then Marcus can definitely feel Wood's erection pressing against his stomach. He flinches back.

"Fuck." He somehow manages to get out. Wood looks absolutely wrecked below him.

"Erm. So about those dark secrets." Wood clears his throat. "I'm gay."

Marcus leans back onto his calves. "Right."

Wood's eyes wander down and Marcus is very aware of his own erection straining against the fabric of his trousers. "So is this something we can add to the list of things we have in common or…?"

Marcus groans and buries his face in his hands. "I…I don't bloody know, okay?"

"Right. Okay. That's fine." There's some shuffling and then Wood's upright again. "Have you ever erm done this with another guy?"

"Of course not." Marcus snarls. He looks at Wood through his fingers. "Have you?"

Wood clears his throat. "Well, yes. The me being gay kind of presumes that I, on occasion, snog other men."

There's a stab of something in his chest at the thought of Wood kissing somebody else. "I don't know why I kissed you."

Wood manages to somehow procure his wand and cleans up the mess from the spilled whisky. He fills the glasses with the last drags of their second bottle. "Maybe because you wanted to?" He asks gently and hands Marcus one of the glasses.

Marcus takes it and drains it in one. "I'm very drunk."

"Okay. You are drunk." Wood just looks at his glass. "Maybe we should just go to sleep." He puts the whisky down without drinking any of it. "We should go to sleep and forget about it."

Marcus can tell that Wood is angry now. Or hurt. Or maybe both. He sets his glass down. "I'm…Merlin, okay, I'm drunk but not so drunk that I don't know what I'm doing."

"So you know what you are doing but not why you are doing it?" Wood faces him again.

"I…" Marcus meets Wood's eyes and they are warm and kind and he wants to kiss him again. "I wanted to."

Wood's tongue dips out briefly to wet his lips. Marcus wants to jump him. "Okay. We erm we can do that again. If you want to."

"Do I…" Marcus takes a deep breath. It's incredibly difficult to focus with Wood this close. "Do I have to be gay to want to kiss you?"

"You don't have to be anything you don't want to be." Wood reaches out and gently cups Marcus' cheek with his hand. "You can just want to kiss me."

Marcus reflects on that for a moment. That definitely makes sense. It doesn't require any life changing admissions on his part. "Alright."

Wood leans towards him and ever so softly brushes his lips against Marcus'. "That okay?"

The sound of the radio in Wood's kitchen going off makes them jolt apart.

Death Eaters have been apprehended in Scotland, the South of England and the Isle of Wight. There are reports of attacks on muggles all over Britain. If you are able to extend your protective wards over the muggle dwellings in your immediate vicinity please do so. The lockdown is going to be lifted for twenty minutes to give you the opportunity to protect your muggle neighbours. If you have been caught elsewhere due to the ban on magical transportation you may use this time to return home. Stay safe.

Midnight

"Are you sure?" Wood asks him as they douse each other in disillusionment charms. "I can do it on my own."

Marcus flinches at the cracked egg over your head feeling from the spell. "I know you can. I'm just going to watch your back."

"I'll hurry so you'll be left with enough time to go home." Wood leads the way out of his small flat. "I think we best go all the way outside."

They make their way downstairs, and only now does Marcus notice that they aren't in a block of flats as he thought but in a converted end of terrace. There's nobody around but Wood has told him that he's the only wizard in the house so Marcus hadn't really expected to see anyone else anyway.

"How many flats are there?" Marcus whispers as they go out into the back garden. It's pitch dark, the night sky covered in clouds.

"Four. There are Mrs Connelly and the Kirby family in the downstairs flats. Siobhan lives in the other first floor one. She's a nurse." Wood retrieves his wand from his trouser pocket.

"That's like a mediwitch, right?" Marcus is already holding on to his wand tightly.

"Yeah." Wood waves his other wandless hand around. "Where are you?"

"I'm just behind you, I think." Marcus puts his hand out and it lands against the small of Wood's back. The other wizard eases against his touch. "Are there any wizarding folk on your street?"

"Just Hamish. He's a retired auror though so I don't know whether he'll be home or out there chasing Death Eaters." There's the light static in the air of magic being cast. "Can't be helped, I suppose."

Marcus worries his lip as he feels Wood moving a little and putting an additional layer of protection over the end of terrace. The air shimmers for a moment. "It doesn't take too long." Wood turns around at his words and Marcus loses the feeling of the other wizard's jumper against his hand. "We can do the whole street in under twenty minutes. Especially if we work back to back."

He knows that Wood can't really make him out under the disillusionment charm but it still feels like they are looking into each other's eyes. "That won't leave you enough time to get home. We'd never make it to the end of the street and then back to my floo in time. And you'd have to make quite a few jumps apparating from here all the way down to London."

"You're not meant to apparate drunk anyway." Marcus says although he doesn't feel drunk at all anymore.

"Alright." Wood's calloused hand finds his and they walk through the front gate out into the dimly lit street. "Let's get started then."

They hold hands, purely so they don't lose each other, and work their way down the street. There are no words exchanged, only the muttered incantations of protective wards. By the time they get to the end of the street the disillusionment charm has worn off.

"Four minutes left." Wood says after casting a quick tempus charm. "If we apparate into my flat you could still use the floo."

Marcus tries to think of an excuse and keeps landing on the truth. "I'd like to stay. If that's alright with you."

Wood pulls him close. "Definitely. That's definitely alright with me." With a sharp crack they're gone.

Wood's bedroom is hauntingly burgundy and gold. Marcus thinks it must look just like the Gryffindor dorm except that there's no four poster but a slightly larger than a single bed instead. Wood's kicking his shoes off and Marcus doesn't know what else to do but copy him.

"Are those kittens on your socks, Wood?"

"No." Wood reaches down and pulls them off. "They're lions."

Marcus snorts. "Of course they are. Because it doesn't feel like a Gryffindor dorm enough already."

"It's a great colour scheme." Wood shuffles around a bit and tries to discreetly hide something in his bedside drawer. Marcus is pretty sure it was a picture of McGonagall. "And there's nothing wrong with house pride. As if your flat isn't Slytherin through and through."

Marcus thinks of the emerald greens and hints of silver in his townhouse. "Whatever. Can you lend me some night clothes?"

Wood's mouth quirks to the side. "Night clothes? Like what a Victorian orphan wears?"

"Fuck off, Wood. You know what I mean." Marcus turns away from him. There's a large walnut coloured wardrobe on the other end of the bedroom. "I'll just help myself."

Wood doesn't say anything so Marcus opens the wardrobe doors to dig through his clothes. There are mainly jumpers and casual t-shirts. Marcus pulls a t-shirt out at random. It's dark blue and looks just about big enough to fit him. Trying not to feel awkward Marcus pulls his own shirt over his head and replaces it with Wood's. He unzips his trousers. None of Wood's bottoms would fit him so Marcus doesn't even try.

"I feel like I should be throwing dollar bills at you." Wood says and Marcus turns back towards him.

"Was a shit strip though." Marcus feels his mouth going a little dry. He desperately wishes his boxer briefs weren't as tight as they are. "Do you have some spare bedding?"

Wood looks like he's trying very hard not to let his eyes leave Marcus' face. "Not really. I don't mind sharing. If you don't."

"I…Shall I sleep on the sofa?" Marcus thinks he should at least offer to.

"It's erm well it's a little small. I don't…Sharing is fine. If it's fine with you?" Wood extracts some pyjamas from under his pillow. Marcus nods. "Okay. Right. Let me show you the bathroom."

The bathroom is just next to the bedroom and very beige. "I take it you've only gotten as far as your bedroom with the Gryffindor theme?"

Wood opens a cupboard and hands Marcus a spare toothbrush. "Just brush your teeth and shut up." He disappears again and Marcus does as he's been told.

1:00 am

They should have slept top and tail. Marcus is on his side, the bed not really wide enough for both of them to lie on their backs. Although it's dark in the room, he can see Wood staring at the ceiling. He moves, his knees awkwardly knocking against Wood.

"Sorry." Marcus mumbles. How did they go from snogging in the living room to this? Somehow admitting that he wanted to stay had been a lot easier than actually staying.

"No worries." Wood's still staring at the ceiling. "Do you want to…do you want to talk about it?"

Marcus does not. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Wood's moving and then they're facing each other. "I feel like we should."

"You're bloody annoying." There's no bite in his words and Marcus' eyes are focussed on the other wizard's lips.

Wood smiles. "I know. So have you ever wanted to kiss another bloke before?"

"Urgh definitely not." Marcus is not interested in men.

"But you find some of them attractive? Like Charlie Weasley?"

Marcus flips himself onto his back. He's not having this conversation with Wood looking so sodding kissable. "I suppose so."

"So was kissing me something you wanted to do because you had a drink and were curious or because…because you maybe think I'm attractive too?" Wood's trying to sound nonchalant but it's not working.

"I am not going to feed your ego." Marcus says in, what he hopes, neutral tones. "I just wanted to. Isn't that enough?"

"Sure." Wood sighs. "For what it's worth, I think you're attractive. Possibly a contributing factor to me having a bit of a panic attack after the announcement."

"Alright. Yes, I think you're attractive. And maybe I thought about it before. What it might be like to kiss you." Marcus keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling. "So what does your psycho analysis make of that? Am I gay now?"

"You keep saying that as if it's something bad." There's some shuffling and jostling of shoulders when Wood tries to roll onto his back too. They somehow manage but now the lines of their bodies are tightly pressed against each other. "Being gay is okay."

"I know it is. But have you maybe considered that I'm not actually worried about being gay but about the fact that I'm apparently gay for you? It's a little concerning to suddenly like your childhood enemy."

"You like me?"

Marcus huffs. "Really? That's what you take from all of that?"

"Marcus."

Well, that is just bizarre. Marcus sighs and turns back onto his side. "What?"

Wood copies him. "Yes, that is what I take from that. Because I like you too. Maybe always have, even back at school. Whatever. Anyway. I like you and I want to kiss you. A lot. And I don't care what you are. But can I please kiss you again now?"

He's halfway through a nod when Wood's already cupping his face in his hands and pulling him close. Wood tastes of toothpaste and, ever so faintly, of the whisky they've had. Again, Marcus is at a loss as to what to do with his hands but he eventually manages to squeeze one arm underneath Wood and urges him closer still. His other lands on the other man's waist. When Wood presses his crotch against his, Marcus can see stars behind his eyes. Merlin, he is definitely very gay for Wood.

"You…Tell me if I'm doing something that's too much, okay?" Wood says and then tilts Marcus' head to its side so he can kiss a soft path down his cheek and neck. When Wood gets to the soft spot just under his jawline Marcus bucks his hips and Wood groans against his neck. "Merlin."

Marcus takes a deep breath and then slips his hand under Wood's pyjama bottoms. Wood stills against him. "Is…is that okay?"

Wood nods. "Yes. Definitely. Very okay. Go on." He leans his face upwards and their lips meet again. Their kiss is much softer than the urgent, heated ones in the living room but Marcus doesn't mind, he almost prefers this. It's both, more and less daunting, at the same time.

Marcus brushes his fingers over the swell of Wood's arse and Wood moans into his mouth. Encouraged by the other wizard's noises, he squeezes it gently. And then a little more roughly. Wood slots his hips against Marcus' and, yeah, there is definitely a very hard cock rubbing against his own.

"Right. Erm. Too many clothes. Yeah?" Wood says against his mouth, and Marcus just about has the brain capacity to nod.

Wood gets to his knees and then shrugs out of his t-shirt. He's more tanned than Marcus had thought and the lines of his lithe upper body are doing all sorts of things to his head. And groin. Marcus uprights himself and tugs at his own shirt. He can see Wood's adam's apple bopping when the other wizard swallows deeply.

"Merlin. I knew you'd be ripped." Wood says and then runs gentle fingers across Marcus' chest. He glances down at Marcus' boxer briefs. "Will you freak out again if I take them off?"

"No. I think I'll be okay." Marcus lets Wood push him back against the mattress. He lifts his bum when Wood pulls off his underwear.

"I really want to…" Wood says and slides down the bed and now Marcus thinks he might freak out but then Wood takes him into his mouth.

"Oh fuck." Marcus groans and Wood pauses.

"Too much?"

"No. It's…no. Definitely not too much." Marcus says and Wood's back to doing all sorts of magical things to his cock and, really, it's embarrassing how quickly Marcus gets to being close. "Erm… Wood, I am going to…" He pulls his hips back but Wood holds onto his waist and doesn't let go until Marcus is seeing stars again and comes into his mouth. "Fuck."

Wood leans back onto his heels, looking like the literal cat who got the cream, and languidly wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. "You good?"

Marcus takes a couple of deep breaths. "Yes. Very." He reaches up until Wood's flush against his chest and kisses the other wizard deeply, minty toothpaste and whisky replaced by his own tangy taste. "Keep in mind that I've not done this before."

"Wha-" Wood starts but then Marcus has already turned them around and is pulling his pyjama bottoms down. Marcus places himself between Wood's thighs and, Merlin, this is a little intimidating and definitely something he should be freaking out over. "Marcus, you don't have to."

"Shut up, Wood." He places a tentative kiss on Wood's lower abdomen. It tastes a little salty. "I want to."

Wood doesn't say anything after that, just runs his hands through Marcus' hair as Marcus maps out his groin with his tongue. Only when he finally runs a flat tongue up the underside of Wood's cock, the other wizard swears softly. Marcus knows that he hasn't got a clue about giving blowjobs but if he's anything then it's competitive. And he will not have Wood beat him at giving great head. So he sucks and licks and nibbles and soon enough Wood is bucking up against him, his warm come filling Marcus' mouth.

"Shit." Wood swears and sheepishly smiles at him. "Sorry, I should have warned you."

Marcus licks his lips and Wood swears again at the sight of it. "It's fine. I don't…It's not as bad as I thought."

Wood's smile widens. "Good. And you're feeling okay, still?"

Marcus mulls that over for a moment. "Yeah." He lowers himself to Wood's side. "Maybe I'm a little gay."

Wood snorts. "Alright." He drapes himself over Marcus' chest and it should be uncomfortable but it's really not. "I kind of preferred it when you were just gay for me though."

"Don't be selfish, Wood." Marcus places a kiss on the top of Wood's head. "I can be both."

Dear wizarding community of Great Britain, this is your Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge speaking. Last night has not been easy for anyone. There has been an attack on the Department of Mysteries. As a consequence, a team of dedicated aurors has made several arrests in London and across the nation. Although the situation has been notably deescalated, I still urge you to remain vigilant. If you do not need to leave your home, I urge you to remain indoors. If you do not have pressing business in public magical places such as Diagon Alley, I urge you to stay away. The lockdown is over. I repeat. The lockdown is over. Stay safe, wizarding Britain!

10:00 am

"Just…yeah…" Wood lifts his hips beneath him. "Okay. You can…"

Marcus lines himself up, trying not to come apart by the sheer image in front of him. Wood looks absolutely wrecked, his hair standing off his head every which way, his face flushed, numerous love bites down his neck and, yeah, that's definitely a bite mark on his right shoulder.

"You sure-"

"Merlin and Morgana both, just fuck me, Marcus!"

Afterwards Marcus is sure that he's never going to want to sleep with anyone else ever again. His stomach is sticky from where Wood has come against him, and Marcus is struggling to catch his breath. Wood's breathing heavily next to him.

"Can we do that again?" Marcus says and grins at Wood, who's rolling his eyes.

"Well, not straight away. Give me a minute." Wood digs around for his wand and then Marcus can feel the cool feeling of a cleaning charm over his body.

"Oliver?" A female voice calls from the hallway. "Your floo's still locked so I let myself in with my spare key. Where are you?"

"Shit." Wood scrambles for his pyjama bottoms. "That's Angelina."

Marcus freezes. However much he's come to the realisation that maybe he is more than just a little gay, he definitely does not want to share that with nosy Gryffindors just yet. Or ever. "Fuck."

He's halfway back into his shirt when sodding Angelina Johnson bursts into the bedroom. Her eyes grow as wide as saucers. "Oh."

Wood gets up awkwardly, still shirtless, his pyjama bottoms hanging low on his narrow waist. "Good morning, Angelina."

Marcus pulls the blanket up, very aware that he's got no clue where his briefs are. "Johnson."

"Oh." The witch says again. She looks at Wood, who's shrugging into an old Gryffindor Quidditch jersey. "Oh."

"Just give us a minute, will you, Angelina?" Wood says and pushes her out of the room, the door quietly shutting behind him.

Marcus gets out of the bed, he's finally spotted his briefs. "Fuck."

"She won't say anything." He looks a little green around the edges. "I swear. Please don't freak out again."

Marcus steps into his underwear. "I'm not freaking out." He picks up his trousers next. "Definitely not freaking out. I'm very past that. Freaking out is not covering what I'm doing in the slightest."

"Marcus." Wood comes up to him and gently touches his shoulder. "I'll just tell her that you got stuck here last night. Because of the lockdown. There doesn't have to be anything else to it."

Marcus closes the buttons of his trousers. "She's not an idiot, Wood." He gestures over the bed. "You can't talk your way out of this."

"Alright. Okay. But she won't say anything. She wouldn't do that." Wood takes another tentative step towards him. "Please don't leave."

Marcus takes a deep breath. He doesn't want to leave. But he can't stay either. "Can I disapparate from here?"

There's a flicker of something across Wood's face but then he nods. Marcus grabs his shirt and spins in place.

11:00 am

The shower is hot against his back. Now that he's left Wood's flat everything that's happened feels a lot more real. A lot more serious. But Marcus can deal with that. Surely.

"It was just the aftershock of the Dark Lord returning." Marcus mumbles, the hot water spilling into his mouth. "All the alcohol." He turns the shower off. "Curiosity." Marcus groans. He's screwed.

1:00 pm

Marcus tumbles out of the fireplace and into a living room filled with not only Angelina Johnson but also the two Weasley twins. Wood's sitting in the armchair again, Johnson's on the sofa with one of the twins by her side and the other on the floor between them. They're all nursing a cup of tea but Marcus can smell the whisky in the air.

"Erm." He says intelligently.

Johnson's the first to react. "Right. We better go. Fred. George."

One of them, Marcus thinks it's probably Fred, pulls a face. "Now? It's just about to get inter-"

"Yes, now." The former chaser hisses and she grabs ahold of his arm before disapparating. The other twin nods at Flint and then disappears as well.

"You came back." Wood says, his fingers maybe wound a little too tightly around his mug.

Marcus doesn't quite know how to position himself so he just remains awkwardly in front of the fireplace. "Yes. The training schedule…" He did have a little speech prepared but it has left his head because all he wanted to say, that it's been a mistake and curiosity and alcohol and the sodding Dark Lord returning, just isn't really true now that he's looking at Oliver sodding Wood again.

"Sure. I'll fetch it for you." Wood places his tea on the table in front of him, a defeated look on his face.

"No. Wait." Marcus takes a step closer. "I did come back for the schedule. But now that I'm here. It's…" Why can't he ever find the right words to say? "I don't want that to be the reason why I've come back."

Wood just watches him, clearly waiting for Marcus to say what he's got to say first. It'd be really useful if Marcus actually knew what he wants to say.

"I don't think I'm gay. Not just gay, anyway. I think I like both. If that's a thing."

"It is." Wood concedes.

"Okay. That's what I am then. After last night…and this morning…" Marcus takes another step towards the other wizard. "But that doesn't matter, because I want you. Not just now. And not just here in your tiny flat with the even tinier furniture. I want you all the time and everywhere. Properly. And I don't want you snogging other people. Not even on occasion."

"You don't do things by halves, now do you?" Wood says, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. "Very scorpio of you." Marcus raises an impressed eyebrow. "Yes, I have read up on my astrology."

"So what do you say?" Marcus isn't sure he understood himself what he's been asking but Wood seems to have.

"Alright. Let's do this properly then."

Marcus closes the remaining space between them, his hands, finally knowing where they are meant to go, landing on the other wizard's waist. "I don't think I'd ever say this but I'm actually glad that you-know-"

"No! Do not thank you-know-who for us dating. This is not the story I am going to tell our grandchildren."

"Our grandchildren? Merlin, Wood. I thought I was supposed to be the one not doing things by halves?"

"Just shut up Marcus and let me kiss you."