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The hospital is Piers' idea. It's a run-down building that is more crumble and dust than solid structure. Dean wonders sometimes how it's still standing, and why the city hasn't torn it down yet. He's heard Piers' stories about how he and his little gang of friends would sneak off, hide in the abandoned place, and pass around stolen liquor and cigarettes. The place is too dangerous.
"There's nothing wrong with being scared," Piers assures him, coming to a stop where the wall has fallen, and it leaves him bathed in moonlight. He grins, tucking his cigarette between his lips. "It isn't really haunted."
Dean snorts because that's the least of his concerns. Ghosts are harmless; even the Bloody Baron, as scary as he may be, doesn't actually want to hurt anyone. No, he's more concerned with what sort of diseases he might contract if he scratches himself on a nail or piece of glass.
"I'm not scared of ghosts, you dork," he says, rolling his eyes and waving a dismissive hand. "Hogwarts has plenty of them. A poltergeist too."
Piers' eyes widen. Dean can't tell his skin grows a shade paler, or if it's just the milky glow of the moonlight on his skin. "You're having me on!" he insists. "There were ghosts at your bloody school?"
Dean shrugs, chuckling. "Well, yeah. I mean, it's a school for witches and wizards. Are ghosts really that surprising?"
Piers lights his cigarette and takes a deep drag, exhaling a puff of white-grey smoke. "Next you'll tell me werewolves are real too."
"One of my professors was a werewolf. Good man."
Piers rolls his eyes, and Dean has the sneaking suspicion his boyfriend still doesn't believe him. Oh well. He doesn't really feel like listing all the strange and wonderful creatures that exist anyway.
"So, this is your little spot?" Dean says, nose wrinkling when he looks around. "Have you had your tetanus jab recently?"
"Funny. You're hilarious, Dean," Piers says dryly. "This place is important to me."
Dean offers him a small smile. "Sorry."
Sometimes it's strange that the fact that Dean is a wizard and Piers is a Muggle isn't their biggest difference. Even growing up as neighbors, it's like they're from two different worlds some days. Still, it doesn't stop Dean from loving Piers with every fiber of his being.
"So, this is where you used to go whenever you needed to escape?" Dean asks.
Piers relaxes, nodding. He moves closer, taking Dean's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Max was always great. Never anything like my parents, thank God," he answers, and the faintest smile tugs at his lips. "But I still sometimes just… being loved was something I struggled with, so I'd run."
"You don't want to run anymore, do you?"
Piers pulls him close, wrapping Dean in a warm hug. "No," he whispers, kissing Dean's cheek. "I finally found my home."
