Detention wasn't so bad. Especially since he got to spend it with Keith. Again.

Come to think of it, Lance had never, not once, had detention before coming to Hogwarts. He'd been an exemplary student back at Ilvermorny. It wasn't until meeting Keith that Lance had begun building a disciplinary file for himself.

"I'm starting to think you're a bad influence on me," Lance whispered, his head still buried in his arms on the desk. He turned slightly to glimpse Keith out of his periphery.

"What? Me? You're the reason we keep getting detention," Keith countered.

"I don't know about that, the first time it was because you made us late to Alchemy, and this time it's because you got us caught out of bed after lights out."

"WHAT?" Keith gasped in disbelief, his whisper rising just loud enough for Thace to notice.

"Heads down, no speaking!" The Professor scolded.

Both boys complied, muttering apologies under their breath as they resumed their previous posture. After a beat, Keith ventured to continue his objections to Lance's obvious observations.

"You do know we were both late to Alchemy AND we were both caught behind the boathouse?"

"Well, yeah, but I would have been able to sneak by undetected in both of those cases if not for you. You're the reason we were caugh."

"I sooooo am not! You're stupid escalator spell got us caught the first time and your lack of coordination got us caught this time."

"Okay, I'll admit, my brilliant spell was still in its infancy and probably contributed to our punishment. But I will NOT take the blame for this one Keithy-van-yelps-a-lot. If you hadn't screeched like a little baby we could have made it."

"Like a baby? Are you fucking mental? You tripped and pulled me down with you. You bit my bloody lip!"

"Only because you -"

Professor Thace's shadow loomed between their desks. With one in each hand, he squeezed the back of their necks and lifted their heads only to slam them down on the desktops. "NO. SPEAKING." he seethed, "fifteen points each from Slytherin and Gryffindor. If I catch you again it will be another fifteen points."

With a groan Lance rubbed his head against his forearm, a throbbing headache beginning to take root. Keith needed to learn to whisper, honestly, how could anyone be so bad at being sneaky? For someone who was supposed to be a seeker, he was terrible at being silent and stealthy.

The seconds ticked by into minutes, which ticked by into hours and days and weeks and months and years and ughhhhhhhh Lance was never getting out of here. He was going to die here and become a ghost haunting this very classroom, forever stuck in detention with the sexiest pain in the ass he'd ever met. Seriously, if it weren't for Keith he'd never have been in this predicament.

"You really are a bad influence," Lance whispered.

"Fifteen points from Slytherin!" Thace yelled from directly behind him, and Keith snickered.

"Loser," he teased.

"And that's fifteen from Gryffindor."

"WHAT?" Keith screeched.


"Sixty. Bloody. Points." Lotor said in disbelief. "We were in the lead. We were - you've brought us down to second last place in the span of one night! Thanks to you, Slytherin can kiss the house cup goodbye."

"I'm sorry," Lance said, genuinely meaning his apology. "At least Gryffindor is in last though, right?"

Lotor stared down at him, a stern look on his otherwise indifferent face. "Oh, yes, how fortunate," he said with more sarcasm than Lance had ever heard in his tone before. "I don't know how you intend to do it, but you'd best find a way to earn back those points. Slytherin has won the house cup the past four years in a row and I will NOT let some silly little transfer student ruin everything this house has worked hard for."

With that, he calmly walked off towards the steps leading out of the Common Room. Looking around, Lance took in the annoyed stares and glares of irritation. He'd disappointed his house and he'd let them down in the worst way. It was entirely his fault that Slytherin stood to lose everything. He couldn't let that happen, he needed to think of something, anything, that would right his egregious wrong. Mierda! What was he going to do?


Lance stared at the flames as they danced along Keith's arm, snaking their way up the sleeve of his robes. They twisted and curled around him but not a single ribbon of fire dared to singe the fabric of the one that controlled them.

Lance looked around the room at the other pairs as they practiced their elements. Some managed small sparks; flickering light briefly appearing between their fingertips before quickly fizzling out of existence. Others sloshed water in a bucket; small puddles forming on the stone floor around them. Others yet tickled their partner's hair; air lightly brushing past the delicate wisps at the base of their necks. And the earth affinity students were occasionally forced to chase after the odd stone that would roll a little too far off course, cursing as they scrambled between legs to catch the escapee.

Lance watched them, their simple attempts to manipulate the various elements were adorable in comparison to the total and complete control that Keith exhibited. His command of his element was impressive, to say the least. Lance watched with awe (and only a smidge of jealousy) as Keith expertly wove the tendrils of flame through his fingers as if fingering a piano in mid-air. He imagined music coming from the invisible instrument controlled by invisible keys played by Keith's deft fingers.

"Impressive," Lance whispered involuntarily. In fact, the only reason he even knew he'd voiced it was the pretty little blush that spread across Keith's pale cheeks.

"Looks like Kogane's quite the snake charmer," a mocking voice said and Lance whipped around to find a familiar attractive blond sneering in their direction.

"Piss off, Henry," Keith replied as Professor Honerva quickly intervened. She moved Henry away, placing him and his Hufflepuff partner far away from Lance and Keith, but not before Lance got a good taste of the sour, bitter energy radiating off him.

"He's just jealous," Lance said to Keith, keeping his voice low to avoid any further attention. "He either wishes he had your control, or he wishes he had your attention. I'm not entirely sure which one, maybe both to be honest."

"Yeah? What makes you so sure?" Keith asked skeptically and Lance simply shrugged.

"Legilimence, remember? I kinda just know things sometimes." Lance moved his hand in the air as if giving the world's slowest wave, a far-off dreamy look in his eyes.

"You can read emotions, not minds. You're not psychic, dummy." Keith snickered, punching his shoulder playfully when Lance feigned offence.

"Hashtag goals though, am I right?" He joked and Keith nearly choked on his own surprise.

"You're a pureblood, how the devil do you know what a "hashtag" is?"

Lance smiled innocently and shrugged. "Tourists," he said, leaving Keith just as puzzled as ever. Keith tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow as he stared at Lance. And Lance decided "confused" was cute on him.


Lance packed his parchment and quill into his bag, tucking away his copy of "Advanced Rune Translation" under his arm as he headed from his seat.

He smiled a polite goodbye to Professor Trigel, one of the growing number of the administration who'd become incredibly impressed with Lance's skills. And why wouldn't they be impressed? Lance was a talented, smart, resourceful, and effective young wizard. Hell, he was impressed with how well he'd adjusted to Hogwarts.

Lance had really hit his stride in several of his classes, leaping to the forefront of his year in a matter of weeks. As he'd expected, Alchemy was one of his favourites while Charms, Transfiguration, and Runes had been a cakewalk. His Professors loved him, and his fellow Slytherins loved him … okay not so much currently, but Lance was working on that! He just needed to find a solution, something big that would allow him to earn a large portion of points all at once.

Like a brick wall, realization smacked Lance in the face.

Of course, it was so easy! The solution had been right there this whole time!

Lance rushed through the halls, heading straight for the one Professor he knew would be more than happy to agree to his plan.

As expected, Professor Smythe was still in his office. Lance calmly walked into the class, casting a knocking charm into the air as he did so.

"Clever boy," the Charms Professor said with a proud smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Sir, is it true that you sometimes offer extra-credit assignments?" Lance asked, dialling up the charisma and smiling brightly, innocently. Lance had changed his manner of speaking, switching to a more respectful, "business-like" tone than he was used to. He knew the difference would appeal to Professor Smythe, someone who believed in due respect and gentleman's conversation as he'd called it.

"Ah, yes, that's true. But Lance, my dear boy, you certainly do not need them, you're top of the class."

"Well, I wasn't sure who to go to. The other Professors, they're not like you, they might misunderstand my intentions." Lance began.

"Go on," Professor Smythe encouraged, though his tone had shifted to something leerier of the direction they were headed. His body language shifted as well and he tensed as Lance walked closer.

"I was wondering if perhaps there was a way to earn extra credit. Only, instead of credit, I was hoping I could earn extra points for my house. See, I got into a bit of trouble with Professor Thace for speaking during one of his detentions. I will admit that I deserved the detention, having been out of bed after hours, though I feel the deduction of points was unfairly excessive."

"I can't simply award Slytherin house points because you feel Professor Thace was too harsh. It doesn't work like that, my boy."

"No, no, I completely understand, which is why I was hoping for an exchange. I was thinking I could do something for you, like an extra credit assignment or cleaning your classroom, in exchange for house points in lieu of extra credit. I want to earn them Professor, fair and square."

Professor Smythe stared at him from behind his desk, assessing Lance and his request. But Lance wasn't too concerned. He wasn't asking for much, just points for his house. And he wasn't asking for them for free either. He stared back at the Professor, meeting his gaze, and felt a strange tingling in his head; like a shiver running down one's spine, only localized beneath the skull instead.

It was a familiar sensation, one he'd felt several times back at Ilvermorny when they'd been studying Occlamency and Legilimency. Lance knew exactly what to do. He filled the forefront of his mind with pleading thoughts, "Please, please, please. Say yes, por favor!". Meanwhile, he filled the back of his mind with the conversation he'd had with Lotor. "Thanks to you Slytherin can kiss the house cup goodbye … I don't know how you intend to do it, but you'd best find a way to earn back those points."

"Alright, my boy, I will help you under one condition,"

"Anything," Lance replied, excitedly springing closer to the Professor's desk.

"I know all too well how strict Thace can be, and I believe your intentions are pure. If you speak of this arrangement to anyone or fail to follow through on your end, I will deduct far more than sixty house points from Slytherin, are we clear?"

"Crystal, sir. It'll be our little secret."

"Right, well, here's what I want you to do …"


Keith grumbled under his breath as he slashed his wand through the air and Lance struggled to hold back a chuckle. He looked so angry and fierce with his furrowed brow and tight scowl, but the childish action stood in sharp contrast. It was like watching a lion blep in its sleep; terrifying and deadly, but just so darn cute.

"Would you stop daydreaming?" Keith snarled, "You said you'd help so you better do something other than just dreaming about … whatever you're dreaming about!" He huffed, flipping his hand angrily. His hand that was holding his wand !

A chunk of stone fell from the ceiling, crashing onto the floor precisely where Lance had been standing.

"DUDE!" he shouted in absolute terror as he struggled to catch his breath while lying in a protective ball on the ground. Lance rose to his feet and rubbed at the sore spot on his elbow. He could totally tell a bruise was already forming from his impressive dive out of the way. "Keith, buddy, you gotta be more careful, man. You can't just go waiving your wand all willy-nilly, especially not with charged emotions. You're lucky I didn't get pancaked."

" Hmpf ," Keith huffed, "more like you're lucky you didn't get pancaked," he muttered in reply and Lance gasped. He gasped as loudly and flamboyantly as possible, making a big show of his over-the-top surprise.

"How DARE you suggest such things! Keithy-boy, my dear sweet mullet, I will have you know that my death by squishing would be an absolute tragedy."

"Mhm," Keith hummed as he looked down at the place where he was supposed to have conjured a purple juniberry flower, smirking to himself at Lance's dramatics. And you know what? Lance would count that as a win. In fact, any time he got Keith to smile (no matter how small) Lance would count it as a win because Keith had a fierce scowl but his whole face softened when he smiled.

"LANCE! Bloody hell, pay attention," Keith said, back to grumbling.

Lance sighed and shook his head. "Alright, alright, alright, you have my full undivided attention," he said, making a point to stare wide-eyed and deliberately. Keith's scowl cracked again, the corners of his lips quirking up as he watched Lance's eyes begin to tear. But Lance refused to blink, he would hold his eyes wide until Keith either told him to knock it off or broke and began laughing.

Luckily for Lance's eyeballs, it was both.


Lance had Potions, Charms, Runes, Alchemy, and Apparation practice on Mondays, followed by private tutoring with Nadia before dinner and then Eric and Jonathan after dinner. It was a lot.

Eric was nice. He was a quiet Hufflepuff boy a few years younger than Lance who needed the help to prepare for his O.W.L.s the next year. He'd been super nervous when Lance walked in, noting that he was surprised a Slytherin was helping him "on account of being a muggle-born and all," as he put it. But Lance had merely given him a confused scowl, why wouldn't he help? He was trying to earn back the house points he'd lost and Professor Smythe had sent Eric to him for that exact reason.

Keith had also been apprehensive of Lance when they'd had to clean the trophies together, also noting Lance's blood status in relation to his. This whole country was weird if you asked Lance, why did everyone care so much? He'd voiced this to Eric who did not look convinced.

Nevertheless, they practiced and practiced for his entire allotted hour and by the end of it he had fully warmed up to his presence. Lance helped him with the wand movements, pronunciation, and most important of all: intention. By the end of their session, he was just able to complete the relatively basic spell they'd been working on. It wasn't much, but it was a substantial improvement from his previous skill level.

Jonathan, on the other hand, was a Ravenclaw in Lance's year who was absolutely LIVID that he needed help. He'd made a point of being as rude to Lance as possible and talking to him as if he were stupid, despite the fact Lance was there to help him ! Lance just kept reminding himself that he was doing it for the house points and he only had to put up with it for a few weeks. He hoped.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he didn't really know how long Professor Smythe expected this to go on for. Huh, maybe he should have worked out more of the logistics before blindly agreeing. Dios Mios , that was dumb!

Speaking of dumb, Lance had made the mistake of thinking that their time together meant he and Jonathan were friends, or at the very least friendly acquaintances. But that was not the case.

Jonathan made a point of ignoring Lance in the corridors and in their shared classes and even when he was supposed to be tutoring him. He wouldn't make eye contact with Lance, holding his head high and refusing to acknowledge Lance's existence even when he'd follow his advice. It was infuriating. So Lance had taken to calling him Johnny, a name he knew arrogant, uptight, stick-in-the-mud Jonathan absolutely despised.

"You know, I don't think Baker likes you all that much," Keith whispered between them, picking up on Johnny's animosity, and Lance snickered. Keith didn't know the half of it.

Professor Honerva droned on about things Lance already knew and he instead turned his attention to Keith who was grinning mischievously at him.

"Oh, I know, but it's fun to torture him," he replied with a wink and Keith snickered. He actually snickered! Lance stared at him in surprise, mesmerized by the sparkle in Keith's beautiful purple eyes.

"Mr. Kogane, you cannot afford to be distracted in this class. Please pay attention. And Mr. McClain, stop distracting your peers or I will deduct points from Slytherin house. Consider this your one, and only warning."

"Yes, ma'am," they replied in unison.

Lance focused for the remainder of class, not letting Keith's embarrassed blush or cute smile or shaggy black hair or rich smokey smell or close proximity distract him … much.

He did love this class, and he had much to learn, but today they were covering the fundamentals of elemental transfiguration again and Lance already knew this. He knew it like the back of his hand. He knew it so well he could recite the theories in his sleep. Speaking of sleep, today was Thursday which meant he had History of Magic with the Ravenclaws. Which meant he had to spend the first half of his afternoon with Johnny, which meant contemptuous glares being aimed in Lance's direction, which meant Lance was going to be swimming in a sea of frustrated emotions being channelled his way.

Sometimes being a legilimence was more of a nuisance than anything.

Monday meant Nadia, Eric, and Johnny. But Thursday, Thursday meant Priya, Evan, and KEITH!


"What are these?" Keith asked, popping candy corn into his mouth without hesitation. Lance watched as he pulled a face, scrunching up his nose and curling his lip in disgust. "Ughh, dreadful, that's what they are."

With an amused laugh, he plucked the bag out of Keith's hand. "They're called 'candy corn' and they aren't that bad. Here, try these, they're my favourite chips," he offered, passing the bag of dill pickle.

With a blank stare, Keith looked into Lance's eyes as if questioning his sanity. "These are crisps." He finally said, taking the bag and fishing one out. He popped it into his mouth and immediately soured his face. "Ughh, America has the worst snacks. Honestly, who decided pickles would be an appropriate flavour for crisps."

"First of all, they're CHIPS. Second of all, they're delicious. Third of all, who decided prawn cocktail was a good idea?" Lance countered, raising a finger for each tick on his list. "I'm sorry, Keith, but seafood has no business being in my potato chips. NO BUSINESS!"

They laughed, shared snacks Keith claimed to hate but didn't stop eating, and argued back and forth about who pronounced things correctly. Keith insisted it was "aluminium" while Lance stuck with "aluminum". Keith claimed they were "chips and crisps", while Lance held to "fries and chips". Keith scoffed at his pronunciation of schedule, and Lance snickered at garage and vitamins.

"You know," Lance said, his mouth full of flamboyantly yellow marshmallow baby chickens, "it's funny how you all sound so different, ya know? Like, you and James sound nothing alike, but you're both from London. It's weird."

Keith placed the half-eaten moonpie in his lap as he swallowed. "Not really," he said, "We're from different sides of the track if you know what I mean. James' family has money, a lot of money. His parents work for the Ministry, some big wig's in the Department of Justice I think. My dad was in the fire service."

"He was a firefighter?" Lance asked and Keith nodded, taking another bite of the moonpie. "What about your mom? What happened to her?"

Keith stilled. After a beat, he calmly said "I don't know, she left when I was three." But Lance picked up a serious spike in Keith's anxiety. He felt the rise in Keith's heart rate, the change in his energy, and the faint sensation of nausea as Keith's swirling thoughts swept over Lance. He couldn't pick out exactly what he was thinking, but the overall sensation was one of a deep and shameful secret. Lance wondered what Keith could possibly be hiding.

He studied Keith closely as the boy cleared his throat and quickly got to his feet. He picked up his robe, hastily throwing it on and leaving it slightly off-kilter, then stuffed his wand into the inside pocket. He grabbed the rest of his moonpie and offered Lance an awkward goodbye, stating that he needed to get back to Gryffindor tower and work on his Astronomy homework.

It was such an abrupt shift in demeanour that Lance just let it slide. He didn't know how else to handle the situation other than just bidding Keith adieu and puzzling about it all later. In his hurry, Keith left his quidditch gloves behind.

They were softer than Lance expected, and the stitching was starting to give around the seem of the thumb. The worn leather had seen better days and the paint covering the metal snaps on the back had been completely worn off with time. Lance wondered just how long Keith had had these gloves, or if he just never took them off. Thinking about it, he'd never seen Keith without them. In fact, the only reason he'd even taken them off in the first place was to avoid getting marshmallow on them after he saw the state of Lance's fingers post peeps.

Lance knew the classroom they were sitting in was empty but he still did a sweep of the area, swivelling his head around to check for any watchful eyes. With no one in sight, he slipped one of Keith's beloved gloves onto his hand. Even though his fingers were longer and skinnier than Keith's, the fingerless leather gloves fit snugly on his palm. Lance made a tight fist, feeling the leather constrict like a second skin.

He should probably give them back.


Keith was sitting on a bench with a group of students in the courtyard, all of them Gryffindors. His back was facing Lance and, based on the looks he was getting from the others, Lance didn't bother stopping to say hi.

Keith had a quidditch match against Slytherin after classes today and Lance knew he'd be needing his gloves. He didn't want to just walk up and hand them over, the others would question how he'd gotten them in the first place. But he knew how important the gloves were to Keith and how he wouldn't be playing his best game without them. Slytherin would likely win if Lance held onto Keith's gloves, but what kind of a win would that be? Hollow, that's what.

No, Lance wasn't a cheater and he would never do that to Keith. He would just have to return them quietly.

"LANCE!" a cheery voice called from across the way, "LANCE!" He looked up to find Imogen running toward him, calling his name as she excitedly waved her hand. She looked cute, her strawberry blonde braid swaying back and forth with a pink bow tied in it. He smiled as she approached. He could see the rose blush on her cheeks and nose from the crisp air, and the way she doubled over to gasp for breath when she finally reached him was so adorable it made Lance snicker.

"You good?" he asked, chuckling as he held her up. She collapsed against his chest and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. She really was pretty, her big doe eyes pleading for a kiss as he supported her weight.

Imogen giggled in reply, "Better now," she smiled innocently, batting her eyelashes as she stared at him. She lifted herself onto her tippy-toes and soft, pouty lips connected with his cheek. "Walk me to class?" her voice bubbled in his ear. She slid from his grasp and twirled away, snagging his tie as she did so and pulling him along behind her like a puppy. "Come along, Lance," she cooed over her shoulder.

They crossed the courtyard, heading back in the direction Lance had just come. Guys winked conspiratorially at him, girls giggled between themselves, and a shaggy-haired Gryffindor glared daggers over his shoulder at him. No, not at him, at her.

But what was Lance to do? Imogen paraded around as if she were his girlfriend, even though he'd been clear she wasn't. The problem was, she could be two different people depending on who she was interacting with, Lance genuinely liked the person she was around him. As long as he was around she was nice to everyone, sometimes a little underhanded or passive-aggressive, but mostly friendly.

He walked Imogen to her Divination elective and kissed her cheek goodbye. She gave a tinkling wave and disappeared into the classroom and Lance headed down the tower steps he wove through the students destined for their respective classrooms, and returned to the first floor for Transfiguration.

Heavy books slammed down aggressively on the desk behind him, causing Lance to startle slightly. Keith plopped down in the chair and a wave of irritation washed over him.

"Hey," Lance greeted cheerfully, turning in his seat to face the scowl waiting for him. On the desk he dropped Keith's gloves, placing them on the stack of books. Lance lowered his voice and whispered "thought you might want these for the game tonight," as he smiled sheepishly. Slowly, Keith's fist closed tightly around them.

"Thanks," he said back and quickly removed what looked to be a knitted pair of palm warmers, switching them for his beloved fingerless gloves. He sighed in relief as the palms of his hands were covered by familiar soft leather.

"No problem," Lance smiled. He watched Keith's brow furrow as he stared.

"You have pink lipstick on your cheek," Keith grumbled and Lance frantically moved his hand to rub at the spot as Professor Trigel started the day's lesson.


Class ended and Lance began packing up his books and parchment. He took his time, seeing as he had a spare period, and prepared to head to the library to work on his History of Magic report about the Galra clans.

It was the first time that Lance had ever been excited to work on something for History of Magic, arguably the most boring of all classes. But the Galra were crazy interesting. They dabbled in dark magic Lance hadn't even heard of; things the library at Ilvermorny didn't cover. But Hogwarts wasn't Ilvermorny. The Scottish school was ancient and the old stone walls held secrets the younger school couldn't begin to fathom. Legends passed down through the years held merit. Even worse were the ones that turned out to be completely true, regardless of how dark they sounded.

Legends such as the very real Chamber of Secrets, now a whos-who elite clubhouse for Slytherin students. Parseltongue was not common, even amongst those who were most likely to carry the skill. In fact, Lotor and Simon were the only students in all of Hogwarts who had the gift, and Professor Thace was the only Parselmouth in the administration.

THAT was something Lance had found fascinating, and the more he dug into the Galra clans the more he respected and feared his Defense against the Dark Arts Professor.

In his research, Lance stumbled upon a list of Clan names; the various families whose bloodlines made up the collective Galra. Of those names, he recognized a select few. They were Daibazaal, Lotor's surname, and Marmora, Professor Thace's surname. Which begged the question, had Professor Thace been a member of the dark, twisted, pure evil Galra? Logic said no or he would be in Azkaban prison, not teaching at Hogwarts. But the evidence was overwhelming.

Even stranger was how this blood member of the Marmora family had ended up in Gryffindor of all houses. From what Lance could find, the whole family tended to end up in Slytherin with a few stragglers in Ravenclaw, but a Gryffindor? His family probably hated that.

Speaking of family, the more research Lance did, the more intriguing he found this particular lineage and decided to focus his report on them. His peers had primarily chosen the Daibazaals, considering them to be the most interesting. After all, they were the leaders of the clans. Lance had considered them too, especially since Lotor Daibazaal was in his house and he could ask him questions about his dad and Uncles. But the other sixth-year Slytherins were already hounding him and, though Lotor seemed to drink up the attention, Lance didn't want to have a near identical report to everyone else.

No, Lance was going to focus his energy on the Marmora family and their fascinatingly contradictory existence. Were they active members of the Galra as everyone claimed? Or were they working for the Ministry all along like some suspected? Who knew? Not Lance! But he was going to find out.

"Now THAT is a look of concentration worthy of a Ravenclaw. Respect," Pidge said as she settled in at the table, taking the empty seat across from Lance, "or constipation. Could go either way," she added, smirking up at him.

"Hardy, har, har,"

"Wow, even your sarcastic laughter sounds incredibly American," she replied dryly and Lance gasped, genuinely offended.

"I'm Cuban!" He objected, " Soy Cubano, Pidge! ¿Qué quieres?" ("I'm Cuban, Pidge! What do you want?")

"Yup, no idea what you said, but move your stack of books, I'm joining you." She didn't wait for any response, immediately pushing his research books to the sides to make room for her parchment and ink pot. "Bullocks! My pot is empty, can I borrow some of your ink?"

"How have you gone through an entire pot of ink already? It's barely Christmas!" he asked, sliding his ink pot between them.

"Some of us actually do first, second, and final drafts of our assignments before submitting them. You should try it," Pidge joked, a grin on her tiny face that caused her eyes to vanish behind oversized glasses.

"Nah, then I'd need to buy more ink," he winked and Pidge laughed.

"Valid. So, whatcha doing for the Holidays? Going home or staying at the school?"

"Ughhhhhhh," Lance groaned dramatically. And you know what? He didn't care. Sure it was an exaggerated response to a simple question but it was something that annoyed him. He wanted to go home and to Lance home was Cuba. Home was celebrating Christmas together as a family, then going to the beach with Miguel to scam tourists and swim and surf and sunbathe.

This year he'd be going "home" to their new house in London and Lance did. not. want. to. go!

"Going to my parent's new house in London," he grumbled. Sure the adventure of a new place, new people, and new customs was exciting and Lance loved the opportunity to shine and thrive in new environments. But Christmas was about tradition and London was NOT part of that. Stupid cold, dreary, English-speaking London was not his warm, sunny Varadero beach where Lance could comfortably slip into his native Spanish.

"Touchy subject?" Pidge ventured and Lance shrugged, feeling his mood take a dip. "Well, if you give it a chance I think London may surprise you. It's actually really pretty at Christmas time. Just keep an open mind, Lance."

"Where will you be?" He asked, migrating the subject away from himself, something Lance very rarely did.

"Matt and I are going home to Cardiff." Pidge said, adding "that's in Wales," when she noticed Lance's blank stare. He nodded as if that meant anything to him but, honestly, Lance had no idea where anything was in relation to anywhere else. If he was being completely honest, he didn't even really know where Hogwarts was other than "in Scotland" which he assumed was north of London at the very least.

"Hunk and I are doing Christmas with his family in Nottingham this year," Shay added, quietly taking a seat next to Pidge. "But Rax is staying at Hogwarts since my parents always work over the holidays."

"What do they do?" Lance asked, happy to change the subject and bring her fully into the conversation.

"Oh, they have a small little restaurant, but they are always one of the only places open for Christmas so they're very busy. We've never really celebrated it much so it's not something I'm missing out on. But Hunk's family goes all out," Shay continued, rambling about all the food Hunk's mother would make and all the goodies his grandmother would bring and Lance was starting to salivate. He wanted some of these treats, they sounded incredible!

"How far away is Nottingham from London? Can I get in on some of these snacks?"

By the time Lance left the library, he had a much better feeling about spending Christmas in London, still not excited, but better than the utter dread he'd had before.


Lance waited on the train platform, sitting on his small trunk as he waited for the train to arrive. He'd packed only the essentials: his face wash, face cream, body cream, favourite slippers, and a few of his coziest sweaters. Beside him was Blue's Voltron lunch box habitat, and Lance was tempted to open it and climb inside to wait for the train in the warmth and comfort of her beach room.

All of a sudden, Lance found himself rolling backwards over his trunk as it fell out from beneath him. He somersaulted ass over head onto the hard, unforgiving platform with a very manly yelp of surprise. Had some asshat seriously just kicked his trunk out from under him?

"Coño!" ("fuck!") Lance grumbled as he struggled to gain his bearings.

"Oh, shit, sorry! I didn't expect you to fall," Keith laughed, reaching out a hand to help Lance back up. "Sorry, Lance."

He looked genuinely apologetic despite the laughter and Lance's anger fizzled away at the soft look in Keith's eyes and the embarrassed blush creeping across his cheeks. He took the outstretched hand and mumbled "'it's fine" as he dusted off his robes. "Heading home?" he asked, aware that the answer was clearly a yes.

In Keith's hand was a small, worn leather suitcase. Kosmo was curled up in the hood of Keith's robes, bringing the collar up tightly around his neck from the weight of him as he snoozed.

"Yeah," Keith shrugged, "the Shiroganes always go big for Christmas, something about assimilating into British culture and whatnot. What about your family? Big plans? Hitting the beach?"

"No, stuck going to the new house in London," Lance pouted but Keith perked up some.

"Oh? A new house sounds cool. I'll be in London too, you know if you want a tour guide or -"

"He's got one, thanks." James jumped in, cutting Keith off. "Besides, you'll just take him to see all the shitty muggle tourist traps. Wouldn't it be better to have a real wizard tour guide to show you all the Wizarding history and sights?"

"There's a lot of overlap," Keith seethed, not acknowledging the "real wizard" comment but shooting clear daggers at James.

Before the conflict could go any further, Shiro sauntered up to their little trio. James' entire personality changed, he stood taller and smiled brightly as he looked up at Shiro, completely enamoured by the older man. Shiro greeted them, smiling at both Lance and James just as warmly as he did Keith. He passed along a message to James from Simon that caused him to run off in the direction of the Slytherin quidditch team, then pulled Keith aside. They didn't go far which left Lance able to hear the majority of their conversation and he watched Keith deflate under Shiro's words.

"What did I tell you about staying away from the Slytherin students? Remember what happened the last time you got into with James? Keith, you need to keep your distance."

"I know, but Lance isn't like them."

"Maybe not, but you need to be careful nonetheless. You know the risks and he's already gotten you into enough trouble as is. I don't want to be the one handing you more detentions." Lance wanted to listen to more, it was rude and an incredible breach of privacy, but he was so curious about what Shiro was saying. Unfortunately, the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station at that moment, hissing loudly and blocking the remainder of their conversation.


Row after row of semi-detached homes, all nearly identical and lightly dusted in a fine coating of freshly fallen white snow, lined the streets. The rows of houses on their new street created a wall of yellow brick and white wood, a far cry from the brightly coloured homes he was used to seeing back in Cuba. Outside was cold, but Lance was nice and warm standing in the entry.

His new house, though it looked cookie-cutter and basic on the outside, was anything but on the inside. His parents had transformed it into a near replica of their old home, complete with colourfully painted walls, plants hanging in every window, and copious amounts of family photos. But that was just the aesthetic and Lance could live without it, what he couldn't live without was the feel of the home. Thankfully, that hadn't changed.

When he stepped through the doors Lance found his Mamá in the kitchen prepping tamales with Veronica. Luis was running around the living room trying to catch Silvio who had smeared an entire container of glitter-goo in Nadia's hair, the small girl balling her eyes out in the corner as Lisa resorted to cutting it. Lance hung up his coat and a loud bang sounded from somewhere in the house, startling him. Lance's Pop-pop came stumbling around the corner coughing, a still smouldering Marco laughing his ass off as he left sooty handprints on the walls. Not two seconds later Lance's Abuela was yelling at the both of them to clean up their mess.

Ahh , the familiar chaos of home. Lance wouldn't have it any other way.

"¿Lance? ¡Mi hermoso nieto! Te extrañé tanto. Ven a darle un beso a tu abuela." ("Lance? My beautiful grandson! I missed you so much. Come give your grandmother a kiss")

Lance didn't miss a beat, he dropped his trunk where he stood and rushed over to hug his Abuela, after all, one was never too old for such things. He felt her still-strong arms wrap around his lanky body, enveloping him in a warm hug he had missed so much since being away.

""Rachel, hermosa. Ven a abrazar a tu abuela." ("Rachel, beautiful girl. Come hug your grandmother.")

"¡ABRAZO GRUPAL!" ("GROUP HUG!") , Silvio yelled. He slipped his way out of Luis' grip and rushed for Rachel, Lance, and their Abuela, popping his head between their legs as he placed himself in the center of the hug.

Pidge was right, maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bad.


This Christmas was terrible.

It was freezing cold outside and the frigid air kept finding new and creative ways of sneaking into the house. The windows were drafty, the doors creaked, the floors creaked, the neighbours were terrible singers and their voices occasionally carried through the shared walls, there was no eggnog, the Christmas music on the radio was sooooo slow, and the sound of dogs barking kept Lance up at night.

Lance cast muffling spells to keep out unwanted noise from the street but it didn't change the fact that Lance's routine was broken. Normally he'd wake up in the morning, wash his face, brush his teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast, then go with Miguel to the beach. But there was no beach to go to. In fact, the closest body of water was the Thames river which was … not something Lance wanted to go swimming in. Nope, no way. Especially not when he was this cold.

The days passed and Lance found Christmas to be lacking the same, comfortable sparkle it usually had. He went through the motions, genuinely enjoying their family's festivities and the time spent together, but his heart just wasn't in it. He hadn't heard from his friends, not Miguel, Sam, and Tyler, he heard from them several times over the holidays, but James and Simon.

James lived in London in some suburb called Belgravia, which was apparently home to all the fancy people. Simon lived in Canterbury which wasn't very far, only a few hours away at most. But they were Wizards, they had the floo network putting James and Simon only a handful of powder away. Still, Lance didn't know where and couldn't exactly just tell the fireplace to take him to James. This was England, there were probably a billion guys named James in London alone!

Which left Lance stuck in his new house day after day after frigid day.

Until a small owl showed up early one morning to peck at Lance's bedroom window, a little note in its beak.

Confused, Lance groaned as he climbed out of bed to open the window and snatch the letter, a cold burst of air rushing in and making him shiver. This wasn't Mordesquito, which meant the letter likely wasn't from Miguel. But who else would send him mail? Excitedly, Lance opened the envelope.

Lance, heading into the city tomorrow. Care to see some "shitty muggle tourist traps"?

Keith

Immediately, Lance rushed through the house, still in his green and red Christmas pyjamas in search of a quill and some ink.


London was a big city.

Okay, Lance knew London would be big, but he didn't realize how big until he was standing on a platform underground for something called a tube. He didn't know what he'd expected a NoMaj tube to be, but it definitely wasn't a train. A very slick-looking train with automatic doors that made a cool whooshing sound when they opened and closed!

Keith had paid for Lance's ticket, saying something about Oysters and muggle pounds, but Lance had literally no idea what he was talking about so he just thanked Keith and offered to pay him back.

"It's no biggie, you're helping me with my Charms and Transfiguration so it's the least I can do." Keith had replied and Lance should have been thankful but really he felt like shit.

He absolutely would have helped Keith with his classes for nothing in return, purely out of the goodness of his heart. But he wasn't doing that, was he? No, Lance was helping him because Professor Coran had added Keith to his docket, and Lance was definitely getting something out of it. He hated this feeling settling in his gut and was immensely grateful that he was the legilimence, not Keith.

Keith smiled obliviously at Lance from the seat next to him as they rode to their destination and Lance smiled back, trying his best to look innocent and cheerful despite his growing guilt.

When they stepped out of the station, Lance found himself in an entirely different setting. Downtown London looked so different from the tree-lined streets of East Finchley where his family's house was located. The buildings here were a strange mix of ancient and modern; large glass offices towering above old stone masterpieces.

"Come on," Keith said, dragging Lance by his wrist along the packed sidewalks. "You can't come to London and not ride a double-decker bus."

Again, Keith bought Lance's ticket, using his card to do so. They sat on the top level, side by side on a bench, and Keith pointed out interesting landmarks as they passed. Most were ancient buildings, architectural marvels, or famous locations. But occasionally he'd whisper in Lance's ear about a Wizarding landmark such as The Leaky Cauldron and the secret entrance to the Ministry for Magic. Both cool sights for sure!

"Are we going to see London Bridge?" Lance asked, excited about potentially seeing something he'd actually heard of before.

"Nah, it's pretty shite. Got torn down ages ago and replaced with a boring modern bridge. Tower Bridge is the one every bloody tourist thinks is London Bridge." Keith answered, watching intently out the window for what must be their stop. "Besides, we only have so much time in the day and I had a few spots planned. HERE! Get up, get up."

Abruptly shuffled out of the seat, Lance followed Keith down the steps and off the bus. He found himself standing on the chilly sidewalk amongst a million other tourists all staring with awe at the same sight. A row of trees had been lit up spectacularly with twinkling Christmas lights, lining either side of the walkway leading up to a gigantic Ferris wheel. It was utterly breathtaking.

"It's prettier at night, but there's somewhere else I wanted to take you a little later." Keith shrugged but Lance's eyes were sparkling under the lights, too impressed to imagine it being any more beautiful than it was now.

If Lance thought the view from the ground was impressive, he had no words to describe the sight that greeted him from the top. All of London lay at his feet, twinkling in the fading light as a magnificent orange sunset lit up the horizon. This was - wow. Lance didn't know how to describe the sensation in his chest but it felt as though he could fly. Every time he looked at Keith's smiling face in that pod, he wanted to kiss him.

So he did. In a moment of overwhelming emotion, Lance grabbed Keith by his black leather jacket and pulled him in, crashing their lips together as the London Eye began to circle around.

It was their first kiss since the "incident" and Lance savoured the moment. He pressed himself closer to Keith and wrapped his arms around Keith's neck as strong hands pressed into his back. Keith's lips parted, allowing Lance to press the kiss further.

A throat cleared beside them and Lance remembered that they were not actually alone, despite how private the little pod felt. "Lo sentimos mucho" ("We're very sorry") Lance said as Keith pulled away with an absolutely delicious blush on his face. Honestly, if they hadn't just been called out, Lance would totally kiss him again.

"Sorry," Keith mumbled.

The rest of the ride back down was mildly awkward.

"Is that the Palace?" Lance asked, staring at the large stone building behind the ice rink.

"What?" Keith replied, bewildered. "This is the Queen's House."

"Yea, so the Palace, right? That's where the Queen lives."

Someone snickered behind him in the line and Keith stared, puzzled for a moment before he started laughing. "No, you numpty, that's Buckingham Palace. This is "the Queen's House", it's like a museum, sort of. Besides, it doesn't matter because we're not going in."

For a fourth time that night, Keith bought Lance's ticket. Nothing they had done was overly expensive, but Lance felt bad nonetheless.

"Keith," he nervously said, his voice coming out as a shaky whisper as Keith pulled him towards the ice rink's entry. "Keith, I've never gone skating before. I don't know how."

Abruptly, Keith stopped in his tracks, an excited grin spreading across his handsome face. "Guess it's my turn to teach you something," he winked.

They found a spot away from the crowd and Keith told Lance to pull out his wand, giving him the spell "Glacius Acies" to create ice on the soles of their boots. Lance complied and perfectly sculpted ice blades formed, a razor-sharp edge glinting in the artificial lights.

Keith smiled warmly up at him from where he'd been kneeling and took Lance's hand, carefully directing him towards the open ice. He gracefully skated backwards as he tightly held Lance's hands, keeping the both of them on their feet and guiding Lance gently around the rink.

"You're doing great," he encouraged, smiling softly. His breath fogged as he spoke and the tip of his nose had turned pink, as had his cheeks. Large snowflakes started falling from the sky, landing delicately on the ice and Keith's long eyelashes. Couples all around them pulled each other close as they slowly skated past. But Lance wasn't watching them, he was watching the tiny white flakes melt into Keith's lashes, causing him to blink the water away. His purple eyes sparkled in the overhead lights and Lance could no longer tell if his shaking was from his poor footing, the cold, or nerves.

"Let's get a hot drink," Keith whispered and Lance nodded. Unfortunately, the motion caused him to lose his balance and he wiped out, falling on his ass and spinning in a circle. "You okay?" Keith laughed.

"I'm good," Lance replied, trying to save face as he struggled to stand. Naturally, he wiped out again, this time landing on his stomach in a spectacularly ungraceful starfish. Keith cackled with laughter, doubling over as Lance rose onto all fours and promptly slipped yet again.

"Ah, bless," Keith laughed, "let me help," he offered, extending a hand to Lance through his continued laughter.

"Gee, thanks, Keith," Lance said sarcastically.

Eventually, they made it to Benugo café inside the skate exchange and Lance was eternally grateful to get out of the cold wind. He ordered a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows, and Keith ordered a boring old tea. Lance offered to pay this time and when he was told the price he asked how many Cuban Pesos that would equal. The man behind the counter had laughed at him. Like, actually laughed and Keith said a few choice words to the guy before paying for the both of them. Again.

"I'll pay you back when I get British money," Lance promised but Keith merely shrugged him off.

"It's only a couple quid, no biggie."

"Well, why don't you stay for some food at my place then, I'm sure mi mamá would love to make you some tostones. No joke, Keith, she would seriously love that!"

Keith laughed at Lance's enthusiasm. "We'll see, Lance."

"Pfft," Lance snorted at the non-committal answer, "we'll see indeed." Keith had no idea how persuasive Lance could be. And Lance? He was a novice in comparison to his Mamá and his Abuela.


Keith ended up staying for tostones.


The rest of the holidays went by much quicker than he had hoped. Now that his Christmas spirit had been restored, Lance was once again having the time of his life. The food tasted better, the songs sounded merrier, and the inevitable family arguments felt lighthearted and brief. Lance helped Lisa wrap the twin's presents, then took over ALL of the family presents after Rachel wrapped a few with ninety percent tape, five percent wrapping paper, and five percent frustration.

But Lance loved wrapping gifts. He loved making them as beautiful as possible, adding bows and ribbons and sparkles where he could. He'd match the paper to the adornments, giving some beautiful elaborate bows with elegantly patterned paper and others a more rustic look with thick brown paper, twine, and pine cones. He loved the looks on their faces when the family saw how beautifully he'd wrapped all the gifts. It made him proud.

Lance liked that feeling. He liked feeling pride in his accomplishments, especially when he was just so darn talented. Unfortunately, the beauty didn't last long; all too quickly there had been nothing but shredding paper and scattered ribbons strewn across the family room of their London home.

Huh, that was the first time Lance had really thought of it as home and not just a house they lived in. And he could feel the shift in his own thinking. Sure, London wasn't Cuba, but Lance's eyes had definitely been opened to the good he'd deliberately overlooked. Keith was mostly to thank for that. Actually, Keith was mostly to thank for a good portion of Lance's Christmas spirit. Being with his family was great, Lance fed on their energy, and the food always made him happy. But it was Keith who had pulled Lance out of his funk.

He should do something to make it up to him.

" Mamá ," Lance called out as he ran down the stairs, skipping steps along the way. "Quiero darle un regalo a Keith." ("I want to give Keith a gift.")

"Claro, cariño. ¿Qué querías darle?" ("of course, dear. What did you want to give him?") As excepted, Lance's mother's entire face softened at his request. She thought the world of Lance, believed him to be the sweetest, smartest, and most handsome boy in the whole universe. And Lance didn't disagree with her assessment in the least. So when he asked for some money to buy Keith a gift, of course she gave it to him. And of course she offered to help him buy something. But Lance already knew she wouldn't be much help navigating the NoMaj money and transportation systems.

So Lance decided to say "screw it" and just go shopping for Keith in Diagon Alley. He hadn't been yet but had heard all sorts of wacky tales from his siblings. Because of these stories, one of the main shops he really wanted to check out was Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

So, naturally, Lance managed to convince his parents to let him go.

"Diagon Alley," he said as clearly as possible, tossing his handful of floo powder into the fireplace and vanishing in a burst of green flames. He appeared in the main entrance to the alley, stepping out of the grate into a crowd of shoppers.

Wizards from all over Great Britain were there and Lance heard an absurd about of accents in no shorter than a single block. He was dressed in his normal clothes: blue jeans, a white shirt with long blue sleeves, and his new green jacket. He'd gotten it as a gift from his parents now that they were living in a country with colder temperatures and Lance absolutely loved it.

The jacket was olive green with matching orange bands on the upper arms. It had a ton of pocket space, which was perfect for storing his wand, some floo powder, and a few galleons. He excitedly made his way down the winding street until he found the building he was looking for. The giant animatronic redhead tipping his tophat made Lance smile. He was definitely going to find something fun for Keith here.


The Hogwarts Express was never late. That's what they'd been told.

Lance and his Mamá rushed through King's Cross station, following behind an irate Rachel. Unfortunately for Lance, the growing gap between them meant the difference between making it onto platform 9 ¾ and not.

"¿Ahora que?" ("Now what?") he asked no one in particular as he kicked the very solid brick archway, the barrier clearly sealed. He didn't think they were that far behind Rachel, but apparently, he'd been mistaken. This was the worst. How was he going to get back to school? There had to be another way right? Maybe he could send an owl to his head of house, Professor Blaytz. Or possibly even Headmaster Kolivan.

"Hey," a familiar voice said and Lance turned to find Pidge smiling at him. She had her hair pulled back into twin barrettes and was wearing a green hoodie. Behind her was a young man who looked remarkably similar to her and their two parents. "We're late too." She grumbled, shooting a dirty look over her shoulder and Lance snickered.

"So, now what?" he asked.

"There's a portkey in the Ministry we can use. We'll miss the return feast but at least we'll get back. We miss the train a lot. Matt takes forever to get ready."

"WHAAAT?" Matt screeched. An orange-striped cat with a white moustache rubbed against Lance's leg and he smiled at the furball, glad Blue was safely tucked away in her lunchbox. "Tony, heel," Matt commanded but the cat ignored him.

"Tony?" Lance chuckled, "like Tony the Tiger?"

"No, like Tony Montana - you know, Scarface. Because of the white moustache."

Lance barked with laughter, drawing unwanted attention from the NoMajs trying to catch their trains. "Amazing," he wheezed.

They eventually kissed their respective parents goodbye and the threesome made their way to the help desk. The bored Witch sitting behind the counter walked them to a backroom with a fireplace. She handed them a bowl of floo powder and told them to request Ministry Grate Number 48 which was easy enough to remember considering it rhymed.

They arrived in a small room with a single fireplace in the corner. Already waiting were several students and a few faculty members including Shiro and Keith. Naturally, Pidge and Matt made their way over to join them and Lance followed behind.

"Hey," Keith greeted.

"Hey," Lance replied.


The portkey had been a wild way to arrive at school.

A brass bar attached to a wall in the small room had been turned into the portkey. It was long enough for everyone to grab hold of while having room to clutch their belongings. Before he knew it Lance was standing in the boat house, still clutching the brass bar.

"Come along then," Shiro said. "No, no, leave your trunks. The house elves will come collect them." The group followed him out of the boathouse, heading up to the castle. "The feast is over now, but there is food waiting for you at your house tables …"

Shiro continued on but Lance saw the perfect opportunity to pull Keith aside and give him his Christmas present. He tugged on Keith's arm, yanking him to the back of their little pack and slowing their pace until the group left them behind.

"You have a thing for the boathouse or something?" Keith teased as Lance dragged him back inside, closing the door for privacy.

Lance laughed it off, choosing not to snipe back for once as he dug through his trunk to find the small box. "Smarty pants," he replied, unable to fully resist. "Here, this is for you, Merry Christmas, Mullet."

Keith quirked a brow, looking down at the cream box with a sparkling gold ribbon. "For me?" he questioned.

"Yea, well, you paid for everything in London so, I don't know, I just wanted to say thanks."

Keith stared at him with a strange blend of expressions, the moonlight shining through the dingy windows barely illuminated his face yet somehow his eyes sparkled and glistened as if wet. Wait, were they wet?

"Are you - are you crying?" Lance asked carefully, stepping closer as Keith stepped back.

"NO!" He immediately denied. "Well, let's see what this is then," he continued, deflecting Lance's attention from him to the present. Lance let it go.

Keith opened the paper, tossing it to the floor as he read the insignia on the box. "Weasley's?" far more cautiously he opened it up and gasped. Carefully, Keith pealed the box away from the snow globe, staring at it in awe.

It was simple, really, just a small globe no larger than a softball sitting atop a golden base. Inside the bottom had been painted to resemble the Hogwarts' quidditch pitch with a tiny Keith that flew around chasing a golden snitch. Instead of snow, Lance had chosen gold and red glitter to flutter around him and the plaque on the bottom read:

Keith Kogane: Seeker
Gyrffindor, 6th Year

This time there was no denying that Keith was crying. Small tears streamed from the corner of each eye, rolling down his cheeks and dropping onto the glass top of the globe.

"Thank you, Lance," he said, voice quiet and meek. "I really - no one's ever done anything like this for me before."

"I'm sure the Shirogane's get you presents."

"Not like this," he whispered as he stared at the globe in his hands, giving it a small shake and watching the glitter swirl around the glass as the figure flew in circles. "Thank you, Lance."

"You're welcome, Keith."