...long time no see (literally)

Okay so I;m not dead. I had so much work, and you would think I wouldn't being a senior and all, but I'm done with my classes! WOO! And it was all worth while! [But I also had this chapter done since March and was too lazy to edit it...]

And I know it isn't Sunday night but I have to upload this before I forget!

This chapter is where the story changes from last time. There is no Angels Week and rather the two just have detention and the dance is now a class (since the Yule Ball and stuff [God I love t Goblet of Fire]).

Enough about me! I really hope you like this chapter, I'm pretty proud of it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or Harry Potter.

Warnings: Some language.

"Two weeks? Two entire weeks of detention?" Alfred complained dramatically to Matthew as they entered the ballroom. Dance class had to be one of Alfred's least favorite classes, even if he did have his brother to endure the torture with, but he did have to admit the classroom itself had his favorite atmosphere. The afternoon sun - quite low in the sky for the time of day - slanted into the grand room, illuminating the room with a practically angelic radiance through the soaring windows draped with grey curtains. The walls were lined with cobblestones that varied in size from the smallest pebbles to boulders covered by moving portraits of the founders of Hogwarts bickering at each other, as they traditionally do. The polished marble floor was delicately painted a deep shade of brown which contrasted the blossoming sun that swelled in golden paint beneath the heavy poundings of tired feet. Student adorned in black robes staggered into the ballroom, their mouths open to make words which are lost to the September air amongst the others.

"Can you believe it?" Alfred asked amongst the commotion bouncing around the marble walls. The Gryffindor prefect had been pouting since the incident occurred and, more often than not, to none other than his brother Matthew. Maybe it was the time of day (it was rather close to supper) or even the fact that Matthew refused to protest that Alfred continued to complain to him. After all, Matthew always listened to him, or so he thought.

"Mhm," he said absentmindedly, a bit more interested in the Ravenclaw across the room than Alfred's detention issue. Matthew, more open than not, had quite an attraction towards a certain Ravenclaw prefect and had a habit of glancing – rather staring – his way whenever he had the chance. He couldn't help it that Francis Bonnefoy was the most perfect wizard he had ever met.

"And with Brangski!" Alfred continued. He was completely unaware that Matthew hadn't been listening at all and continued to ramble without missing a beat. "He's such a creep! Did you know he was a Slytherin when he went here? I knew I couldn't trust him! It's no wonder he agrees with Arthur…"

"Mhm," Matthew repeated, although his mind was far more preoccupied by his fantasies with Francis. Just the way his mouth curved into a thin line when he was trying to charm another Ravenclaw. Or the way the dark blue and silver crest on the breast pocket of his robe matched his delightfully blue eyes. Or even his flaxen blond hair that caressed his face in loose tangles…

"I mean, how can someone expect a prefect to endure such torture! I have my OWLs to study for and my entire post-Hogwarts career! I'm supposed to be a role model, no a hero! How am I supposed to do that if I'm in detention!? And let me tell you, detention with Brangski isn't like the movies. It's not going to end up like the Breakfast Club – and are you even listening to me!?"

"What!?" Matthew sputtered as his day dreams with Francis remained as merely that, day dreams.

"Um yes, detention and movies and Arthur and…" Matthew answered, trailing off a bit at the end. Alfred, however, crossed his arms, unamused by the fact that his own brother wouldn't listen to his complaints.

"You were drooling over Francy-pants again?"

"No!" he blurted. Knowing that he sounded desperate, Matthew inhaled and submitted. "Okay…maybe just a little…"

"Mattie!"

"What!? He's so perfect and beautiful and-"

"A pure blood."

Matthew paused, a bit taken back that his own brother would stoop so low as to accuse Francis of something so horrible.

"He's not like that!" the Hufflepuff defended. Sure, it was a stereotype at Hogwarts that Purebloods ridiculed those who weren't, but certainly Francis wouldn't be so cruel. Heck, Francis had even dated some non-Purebloods and even a mud-blood once, and surely he had many friends that weren't just Purebloods.

"What are you talking about? They're all "like that"! Of all people, you would know."

"Anyways," he started, trying to get off topic as quickly as possible; he never did like gossiping, and about purebloods nonetheless. "We're not officially in a relationship, remember? I was just thinking about how to ask him to be my dance partner today."

"You and seven others," the younger of the two sneered.

"He's not seeing anyone else! He's just…charismatic! You're just jealous because he has more dates in one day than you'll ever have in your entire lifetime!"

"That's not true!" the Gryffindor defended weakly. He's had plenty of dates his half-brother didn't know about. Take the time a girl asked him for tutoring in potions; he spent an entire month alone with her and the Professor. Or even his second year during the Yule Ball when he was asked out by a first year to avoid utter embarrassment. Those surely counted…

"Anyways," Alfred continued, abruptly changing the conversation's topic. "I have much bigger problems than your petty relationship."

"I'm not in a relationship with him! It's just dating, which are two different things, mind you. He's too flamboyant and polygamous for me, eh? Anyways…" the older brother inhaled, "it's against Hogwarts rules."

"That hasn't stopped you." At these words, Matthew fumed. How dare his own brother accuse him of such horrible things as to date someone of the same gender – let alone Francis – just because he was sent to detention!

"At least I'm not in detention!"

"I know!" Alfred deflated. "That's the problem!" Seeing his half-brother in absolute despair, Matthew decided to let bygones be bygones and forgive Alfred.

"Did you at least talk to the Headmaster?" he asked sympathetically.

"Yeah, but he said that two weeks isn't going to kill me and I should reap the consequences of my actions. And it's not fair! I didn't do anything wrong! It was all that fucking Arthur's fault!"

"Speak of the devil," Matthew murmured. As if on cue, Arthur entered the ballroom looking rather put together, compared to his usual untidy appearance. No longer did his green eyes have large black circles around them or his skin look so pasty. Rather, his green-trimmed robes were ironed crisply and his spell books were tucked into his Union-Jack styled satchel. The only feature that remained rather messy was his hair that matted in large tangles.

"Settle down, students!" Professor Edelstein lectured from the front of the ball room. The young Austrian (certainly not German) professor was rather intimidating despite his short and rather scrawny stature and his mauve ensemble – complete with cravat – did nothing to deter this. His dark brown hair was neatly parted aside from one stray curl that protruded from the crown on his head, not that Alfred could complain. His expression ranged from exasperated to infuriated at any given time courteous of his forever downward sloping eyebrows and drooping violet eyes. However, his most prominent feature was a tiny mole below his thin bottom lip that Alfred could have sworn had to be a hex or curse.

"Now today, we will be beginning the waltz. As all of you know, if you actually did the reading I assigned," the Professor noted, peering over the tops of his square glasses, "the waltz originated in Austria, which happens to be my home country. Opposed from any other dances, this dance is timed in three beats while the traditional dance we danced last week was in four beats. Of course, this was a stylistic choice since it replicates a swaying, more natural motion…"

"Hey Mattie, come on, dance with me," Alfred whispered, completely ignoring the lecture.

"Ew, no, I'm not dancing with my brother. Anyways, I'm going to be the first person to ask Francis. He promised me he'd save me a dance last class."

"Urg, kill me now, Matt."

"Remember, this will be graded at the end of this class, so get with a partner."

"Good luck, bro," the Hufflepuff brother said patting his brother's shoulder sympathetically.

"Oh great," Alfred grumbled. He scoped the room, hoping that anyone would offer to be his partner, or even have no partner at all; he'd even dance with a Slytherin if he had to. Sadly, everyone had already designated who their partners would be for the term; well…all but one.

"What do you want, Jones?" Arthur asked coldly as the Gryffindor prefect approached him with a more-or-less calculated calm. Arthur was more than pleased to be left alone in his corner to toy with the cuffs on his robes.

"It's Alfred, by the way." Alfred deflated at the fact that his plan to not allow Arthur to know how desperate he was for a partner failed.

"Get on with it; I certainly don't want to get in any more trouble, thanks to you," he bit back, curtly.

"Well…" Alfred started awkwardly, as if things couldn't get more awkward. "I see that you don't have a partner and I kinda don't have one either. And it's not because I don't have any friends because I can assure you I have lots of friends! And if I don't dance I won't pass and then I won't get a job and it'll all because I failed dance and you're the only person left so…"

"I'd rather take the F," Arthur sneered.

"F?" Alfred asked dumbly. "What does that mean?" Arthur rolled his eyes, irritated that he had to explain such a simple concept to someone who was supposedly "above him in all ways". He simply supposed it wasn't a common phrase in America and he could spare educating him, if it meant he wouldn't bother him anymore.

"I'd rather fail than dance with you," the Slytherin student put simply and rolled his eyes – something he felt became commonplace amongst the American.

"I can't afford that! I need good grades for my OWLs if I ever want a job! Anyways, he's coming over." Before Arthur could cuss too much, Alfred placed one hand robotically in Arthur's palm and the other at his hip, their bodies too far apart for a waltz. The prefect hadn't been paying full attention at the lecture – or even read the article – and therefore continually stared at his black loafers, terrified that he would step on Arthur's and receive a horrible grade and then never pass his fifth year and be forced to take it over and over and never get a job or-

"Excellent posture, Mr. Jones," the Professor said, a half-smile escaping from his wandering mind. "You've certainly been doing your reading, as expected. Now, will you be assuming the lead?"

"Uh…yeah, sure," Alfred stammered.

"Very well. You'll need to lower your left arm." Alfred complied to the Professor's demands and snaked his hand to the small of Arthur's back delicately, as if the Slytherin was made of fine porcelain or glass.

"And place your right hand in his." This time, Arthur was the one to initiate the Professor's command. His clammy fingers intertwined with Alfred's ones, a bit surprised that they weren't as plush and fleshy as he originally thought and were rather calloused and rough.

"Now, step in time with the music. Don't force your movements. And remember to look into each other's eyes." Alfred nodded and stumbled forward first while his strength pulled Arthur a mere two centimeters from his waist as they stepped. A few more movements continued in this pace, sweat threatening to build up as their bodies molded together in a sway. As the climax of the song approached, the two were unexpectedly dancing to the music; of course it wasn't close to perfect and the two did not dare to gaze at each other.

"You two are really quite naturals," the Professor interrupted as the music began to ebb, "if you would stop looking at your feet."

"Thanks, I guess…"

Professor Edelstein only nodded before walking off.

"I feel like an absolute prat," Arthur mumbled. Alfred chewed on his bottom lip.

"…Well, I never thanked you for saving my ass before," he blurted in a desperate attempt to continue the conversation. "You're a pretty good dancer."

"If you can even call that dancing. I was just stepping on your feet, to be completely honest." Alfred let out a laugh that was far too loud and long to be believable.

"Still better than me, hmm? I'm too big and clumsy to dance."

"Not according to Professor Edelstein."

"Oh yes, Nice posture, Mr. Jones," Alfred said, imitating the Professor's pretentious mannerisms and light Germanic accent. "If you try hard enough, you can have a stick up your ass, just like me."Instead of receiving a laugh, as Alfred would've hoped to receive from the Slytherin student – as he would've from any other student, regardless of House – Arthur merely glared at the prefect from under his long eyelashes.

"I hardly think a prefect should be insulting his professors, especially a Gryffindor one" he replied with a scowl. "Isn't that for Slytherins?"

"Oh come on," Alfred scoffed. "Gryffindors can be just as bad too! We're not perfect, you know. Take Wormtail for example. Don't be such a hard ass."

"I'm not a hard ass. I just don't want to be in anymore trouble."

"We can't get in any more trouble than we already have," Alfred blurted in a desperate attempt for a joke.

Arthur, however, did not take his partner's statement as lightly as Alfred hoped, and rather averted his eyes to some other happy partners awkwardly dancing.

"So…"

"Please stop trying to make small talk; your efforts are rather pathetic. Can't you sense that I'm trying to ignore you?"

"Well there's a Quidditch game this weekend. I know Brits love Quidditch."

"I swear Jones-"

"Well what do you want to talk about?"

"Can't you just be quiet? We're supposed to be dancing, not talking!"

"Yeah, but it's really awkward just swaying and stuff."

"Fine…Quad pitch it is." Alfred narrowed his eyes.

"You mean Quidditch?"

"Yes, yes, whatever," Arthur dismissed, waving his hand. "I'm supposed to be trying out for this dumb sport as some Seeker or something and I don't even know game's name or how to-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down." Alfred's eyebrows knitted together in frustration. "You're going to try out for Quidditch?"

"Yes, what's so hard to understand? They need a new Seeker and they asked me. What's the problem?"

"You don't even know how to play!"

"I'm a fast learner. It's just football while flying."

"You don't know how to fly," Alfred pouted.

"It can't be that hard. You just get on a broom and go."

"You don't even-"

"Are you scared that I'm going to dominate your precious team?" Arthur interrupted.

"No! I don't even care! I'm not on the team, anyways. It's just that…" Alfred sighed. "Hazing week."

"Oh please." Arthur let out a chuckle. To think that was the cause of all the fuss Alfred was causing. "I can handle a few pranks; I can handle you, can't I?"

"You don't understand," Alfred said, uncharacteristically serious. "The team doesn't actually want youl. They want to exploit you, treat you like a slave! I've heard a kid was almost raped, not to mention that Slytherin is practically notorious for their hazing week!"

"Why do you care?" Arthur jeered. "You should be happy, hm?"

"I'm just looking out for you, okay?"

"Well don't! I can carry my own weight!" Quite irritated with Alfred's hero complex, Arthur pushed all of his weight towards the larger student's chest with one hand. Instead of pushing the prefect backwards, Arthur had thrust himself forward and tumbled into Alfred's open arms.

"Obviously not," Alfred chuckled. Almost reflexively, Arthur unlocked himself from Alfred's grasp and dusted his clothes for traces of dirt.

"Hands off of me, Jones!" Arthur fumed, knitting his eyebrows before he stormed off.

To Be Continued...

A/N: Did you like it? I really hope you did!

I really love Matthew and Alfred together so expect more of that. Poor Matt though, admiring from Francis from afar...

I've got the next chapter planned so don't worry! It'll be completely new!

I'm changing it from the last fic so I hope you stay invested in this fic!

Now to respond to my reviewers:

elizabeta H. Austria: But you've got to love him. Thanks for reviewing!

EverydayUSUK: I'm literally blushing, thank you so much! I love Francis so much and to be complimented like that is absolutely amazing!

SomethingSimsy: I know, right? HPtalia is great; there are so many amazing fics! Thank you for the review!

Sora Resi: Thank you! And yes, I wouldn't mind punching Francis...

Iggy Butt: Yeah, I always add too much physical detail...Thanks for critiquing me!

Tsubasaki: I'm sorry that I didn't update for a while but I hope you stay with this fic! Thanks for reviewing!

Guest: I will be sending PMs to people who want to know the ending of A Clock Work Spade in a little bit. Thanks for being a loyal reader!

Anon: Aww thanks!

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW BEFORE HITTING THAT LITTLE RED [X] IN THE CORNER!

Until next time!

And I promise I won't keep you waiting that long again!