Chapter 6: Honesty

Later that night, after his guests had made their way to their own homes for food and comfort, Mr Wesley hummed quietly as he wiped the benches in kitchen and dining room. Not having much of an ability for music, he knew his tuneless offering would grate on most people's ears, though most people would offer polite platitudes. However, he also knew how rare it was for a soul to visit after five, and felt safe in his quiet expression of seeming content.

As he moved to the sink, wherein he began to wash the various dishes and trays - having long since decided against the use of magic, however timesaving it may be - he heard the incongruous sound of the front door being opened. "Good god, what is that horrible sound?" came the voice from the dining room, and Mr Wesley quickly quietened, before poking his head through the door to see the source of the comment.

"Mallory," he said, torn between amusement and annoyance, as he glared distastefully at the soap bubbles dripping from his hands. "Always such a pleasure to see you."

Mr Wesley tensed in anticipation of the simpering politeness... but it didn't come. Instead, Mallory seemed to be looking around his dining room for something, though Mr Wesley could not fathom what.

"Aha! Here it is!" Mallory exclaimed, and turned on the battered old radio, which had sat unused on that shelf since the day Mr Wesley arrived. "If we must have music, even this is better to that horrible drivel you were uttering," he said, his distaste for the 'pop' music now playing very clear. "What are you, a lawnmower? A bumblebee?"

Mr Wesley couldn't help but laugh at the last remark. "Ah, Mallory, it's a rare treat to have honesty in this proper england village. You know, you remind me a bit of one of my old teachers," he added with a smirk.

"Oh," Mallaory replied with a raised eyebrow. "Was he devilishly handsome and unspeakably witty, not to mention stunningly intelligent?"

Mr Wesley snickered. "No, he was a sarcastic and petty old bat who probably never had a girlfriend in his life. Always hated him as a child, but he could be funny when he wanted to."

Feigning a hurt look, Mallory turned his face away, before making his way over to the now sopping kitchen floor. He stood there for several seconds as Mr Wesley mopped up the mess, looking superior, before Mr Wesley threw an old tea towel at his chest. "If you're going to come in here and disturb me, you may as well help."

"Well, then," Mallory replied in seeming pain, though he could not keep the amusement from his eyes. "Here I was, coming over to invite you to dinner, and what do you do? Attack me with linen, and treat me like a common servant!"

Mr Wesley blinked, before turning his face up to Mallory from where he knelt on the floor, a pose that left him feeling somewhat awkward. "What do you mean, invite me for dinner?" he asked, confused.

Mallory rolled his eyes, before kneeling down next to the other man and helping him wipe up, before giving him a hand to his feet. "I meant what I said. Invite you for dinner. You obviously don't have time to cook yourself a proper meal, slaving away as you do for those ungrateful peasants. Therefore, I feel it my duty as your friend to make sure you eat. Now, let's finish these dishes, and we can be over at my cousin's place before the food comes out."

"Err... thankyou," Mr Wesley replied hesitantly, before returning to the dishes, Mallory now working by his side. With the added help, the dishes were cleaned faster than he'd ever seen, and soon he found himself walking through the village by Mallory's side, without his usual feelings of guilt or duty. It was a nice change.

Mallory, Mr Wesley, and Mrs McElroy ate in relative silence, apart from the occasional request to "Pass the potatoes" or "Borrow the salt". Later, after they had each eaten their fill, Mallory's aunt retreated to her chambers, leaving the two men alone as they adjourned to the cozy study.

After several minutes of companionable silence, with Mallory sipping at some expensive french wine and Mr Wesley holding a warm cup of tea, Mallory decided to make the first move. "So, Mr Wesley... out there on the rocks - which, by the way, was a truly beautiful spot, thank you - you mentioned that you knew rich kids. But you seem so at home here...?"

Mr Wesley winced, wanting nothing less than to talk about his past, but acquiesced. "Well, I grew up in a very different sort of neighbourhood - middleclass kids, some slightly richer, but I was always a bit of an outcast. I guess I never really fit in there, so it makes sense that I'd fit in somewhere else, I guess. Always did love peace and quiet..." Well, not really, he amended, but by the end of the war... "Anyway, you never did tell me what you teach?"

"Err..." Mallory stalled for a moment, trying to think of a convincing lie. "Defence, really."

Curious, Mr Wesley leaned forward. "Like, physical defence? Judo, Karate, that kind of stuff? I didn't realise they taught that at schools... I learnt a bit of that in my senior years, but it was more extra-curricular."

"Yeah, well, it's really just my specialty," Mallory dissembled, and Mr Wesley seemed taken in. "I'm mostly just the sports instructer, but we each have our little favourites, you know?"

Mr Wesley nodded, and Mallory almost sighed in relief, before subtly turning the conversation back on Mr Wesley. "So you were a bit of a fitness freak, then?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Mr Wesley replied, with a strangely sad tone to his voice, before seeming to drift off into memories. Mallory coughed once, then louder, with no effect, before eventually leaning over to prod the other man on the arm.

"Oh, sorry," Mr Wesley said, blushing. "Drifted off there for a moment."

"I noticed," Mallory replied dryly, making Mr Wesley blush in shame. He was tempted to taunt the other man for his lapse, but made a conscious decision to leave it and move on. He had ruined enough friendships in his years, he didn't want to do it again. Even though this man was nothing more than a muggle.

"So..." Mr Wesley continued awkwardly, trying to think of something to say. "Err... so do you enjoy being a teacher?" Urgh, what a stupid thing to ask...

Mallory rolled his eyes at the unsubtle move, but responded anyway. "It's alright, there are the good students and the bad students. One of my colleagues absolutely despises it... but then, he has to teach science to the dunderheads. And you should see the messes some of them make!"

Mr Wesley frowned for a second, then shook it off. "He reminds me of that old chem teacher... of course, I have to admit, I was one of the worst of the dunderheads. Never could understand science, only thing worse than that was maths."

Mallory laughed in agreement, before yawning slightly.

Frowning, Mr Wesley looked at the clock, only to see that it was nearing eleven. How time flies, and he hadn't fed Romulus since the morning. Stretching slightly as he stood, he said that it was probably time to go. "After all," he added, "I have to be up with the sun tomorrow."

Groaning at the very thought, Mallory raised himself from the chair, bones cracking in a way one would more expect of his friend. "I still can't comprehend how anyone could willingly wake up that early," he muttered as he walked the other gentleman to the door.

"Well, we all have our little quirks." Smiling at the other man, though making no motion towards physical contact, having never been exposed to much of it, he began to walk down the green path towards the quiet village.

As Mallory began to close the door, however, Mr Wesley walked back up to it, looking the other man in the eyes. "Mallory," he asked, almost hesitantly, "Would you consider us friends?"

"Yes..." the other man replied, slightly confused. If he didn't consider Mr Wesley a friend, why would he have invited him to his house?

"Then... well, it feels a bit odd, you calling me Mr Wesley, especially when I'm not really any older than you, so... call me Blake."

"Alright... Blake," Mallory replied, feeling a little stunned at the level of trust just shown. From what he'd gathered, Mr Wesley didn't allow anyone to use his first name. "Goodnight, Blake," he called out softly, but Blake had already moved from earshot.

Wait a minute, he thought as he turned to reenter his house, Mr W- Blake is no older than me? Stunned to stillness, he uttered a very unsophisticated "What the fuck!" before continuing to make his way inside. Certainly, he had many questions to ask Mr- Blake when next they met...