Warnings: slash, fluff, spoilers for Ouran through chapter... 50 I think? And Harry Potter through book 4. Narration heavy. No longer HPatHC compatible.
Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and associates, of whom I am not one. Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hattori Bisuko and associates, of whom I am not one. Hallowe'en special.
Featuring: Confused!Takashi, Conflicted!Harry, and others :)
All Hallows Fluff
"Fifty laps," intoned Morinozuka Takashi as he led the White Team to the field for practice, as he did every day. Of course, "every day" had only begun one week prior, which wasn't near enough time to prepare. Most events for the Ouran High School Sports Festival involved running, which meant that most of the participants would be required to run. So, as Ouran was filled with spoiled rich children (not that Takashi had room to talk, as he too was a spoiled rich kid, but he wasn't as spoiled and certainly not as out of shape as the rest), most of them needed serious training. There were certainly many accomplished athletes at Ouran, Takashi included, but twice as many had practically no endurance or muscle tone whatsoever.
One week and three days, Takashi knew, was not enough time to take a bunch of neophytes and make them into capable competitors. It generally took three weeks to hit stride, and that just meant that runners could, at that point, pace themselves to run a kilometer or two.
He'd started with fifty laps for the first few days to check stamina, speed, and recovery rates in each member of the team before splitting them into smaller groups based on what events they were participating in or where they needed the most work. Sprinters were set to run short spurts of the track at a time, relay racers the same, hurdlers were working on their vertical jumps and not stumbling after those jumps... but most were still on the fifty laps because that would help them the most. Maybe no help them in the competition the most, but in general.
As the near unanimous groan rang out, Takashi's gaze flicked to the one member of his team who had yet to become upset by remaining in the long-distance group despite being signed up for other events. He was one of few runners who had made it past the thirty lap mark, even fewer who made it beyond forty, and the only one of those who was not involved in a club sport at Ouran.
Potter Harry was a member of class 1-D with Kanazuki Reiko – Mitsukuni's unofficial girlfriend – and Kasanoda Ritsu – Takashi's self-proclaimed protégé and, from a few conversations Takashi had overheard, Potter's friend – and didn't stand out particularly much. The senior had seen Potter around school every so often, as with any other students, though usually with Nekozawa Umehito and the rest of the Black Magic Club. Takashi had never really thought much of the first year, just another face in the crowd. Admittedly, Potter was highly recognizable being so obviously foreign – there had been a rumor of his relation to the British Lord who, at the time, was touring the globe, though the rumors were just that – but he wasn't noteworthy. Messy black hair, green eyes, glasses, and a look about him that made Takashi think of Oliver Twist. Or Piyo-chan.
Yet despite Takashi's vague, barely-noticed thought that Potter was just another spoiled teenager (for such a thing barely required his note), it soon seemed to be the opposite. The first day of training, Potter did not complain, nor did he try to take a break, he just ran as far as he could – which was further than any except for a few of the actual athletes on the team – before admitting that he couldn't run any further and still be able to walk to the train station to get home.
The fact that Potter rode the train home only piqued Takashi's curiosity for a minute or so – who, outside of Haruhi, took public transportation home? – but he did not particularly care. He didn't need to, really. When Potter came back for days 2 and 3 of training, Takashi thought he would be utterly exhausted, but Potter managed to run just a little more each day before begging off to catch his train home.
Takashi was expecting this, day 7, to be the day Potter hit forty-five laps. But it wasn't.
The National Kendo Champion was watching his team run (he and Mitsukuni did not participate in the exercises since they had their own regimens completed at home each morning and didn't need to get in better shape for the competition) while keeping an eye on the best runners on Mitsukuni's team to find weaknesses, when a jerky movement at the opposite end of the track caught his attention.
Ten laps in, Potter stumbled. He didn't quite trip, but he moved in a strange manner before coming to a stop and then staggering, limping even, to the side of the track where he started to check his leg over.
It really was just duty and curiosity that drove Takashi to go to Potter's side. He wanted to know what was wrong and it was his duty as the trainer to help the messy-haired first year if he had been injured during the run.
Potter's reaction to Takashi's approach was immediate. The senior was still a good five meters off and in Potter's blind spot, yet the younger of them tensed quite suddenly and spun around quickly, looking frightened until his eyes landed upon Takashi. Then he relaxed, blushed a little, and looked guiltily at the grass by his feet.
The movement had been completely defensive and instinctual as far as Takashi could see. A conditioned response atypical of any spoiled rich teen.
"Sorry Morinozuka-senpai," Potter belted out quickly, ruffling his own hair in an involuntary gesture of discomfort and revealing embarrassment-pinked ears. "I'll get back to running." He made to return to the track, but Takashi grabbed his shoulder; the martial artist was curious now, and a little peeved. Potter flinched violently at the sudden contact, but remained otherwise stationary.
When he had attempted to return to the track, there had been no sign of a stagger or limp in his stride.
"Faking an injury?" Takashi asked; Potter hadn't complained once in the past week, and now he was going to drop out? Really? All the signs regarding the younger of the two were contradictory, and it was only how strange those contradictions were that made him curious at all. Takashi had assumed Potter to be a wallflower, but a normal spoiled rich boy none the less, not so... paranoid? That seemed right. Potter was on edge, jumpy, as if expecting to be hit any minute and didn't take kindly to sudden contact.
There were, of course, reasons for this, but none that Takashi thought up made much sense.
Potter's blush darkened under Takashi's scrutiny as he not-so-casually extricated his shoulder from the loose grasp. "I... well, it's not like running all of that is helping me in my events, right? And I don't want to get tired today, so I thought I'd just make up for it tomorrow or something," Potter defended himself.
Takashi perked an eyebrow.
"It's Hallowe'en," elucidated the first year, as if that explained anything. Was Potter just superstitious? "Stop looking at me like that; it gives me the strange urge to explain myself, and I don't want to."
Takashi blinked at the straight forward demand, effectively ending the offending "look" that Potter had been talking about. Then he was running. Why? Because Mitsukuni had just called his name, sounding distressed, pained. It was an automatic response, instinct.
By the pounding of feet behind, Takashi realized that Potter had the same reaction despite not knowing Mitsukuni.
The diminutive senior was on the ground, holding his ankle tightly, lip wibbling and large honey-colored eyes blurred with as-of-yet unshed tears. Although Takashi was the first to arrive, Potter hot on his heels (surprising, given the difference in stride length and the fact that many had observed the seeming increase in his capabilities when it came to Mitsukuni), they were far from alone in their dash for Mitsukuni. Sure, there weren't any girls on the field, as the ladies' events didn't involve running (and Haruhi, who was hopeless, was allowed to spend training time with her secret gender-mates), but Mitsukuni was still popular. His personality and the fact that girls liked him didn't exclude him from making male acquaintances and friends after all.
"Is Haninozuka-senpai alright?" Shouted one of the returning runners as they drew nearer. They probably weren't expecting an answer, and Takashi would not give them one because Mitsukuni was the most important issue. He was tender as he removed the expensive running shoe from Mitsukuni's swollen foot – it was supposed to give extra support so things like that wouldn't happen, but the product was obviously faulty – to prevent aggravation. By the swelling and coloration, it looked like –
"A sprain, low-grade," Potter's voice interrupted Takashi's thought. It was startling; most Ouran students would be freaking out to some degree, but Potter's voice was calm, clinical, like he was a doctor dictating for a nurse. "A simple twist, nothing at all major." He was fiddling with the zipper on a fanny pack that Takashi had no previously noticed and retrieved from it a phial – smaller than the ones used in chemistry classes – filled with a suspiciously violent-purple liquid.
Which he then made as if to give to Mitsukuni.
Like a snake lashing out to catch a mouse, Takashi's arm lashed out to grab Potter's wrist. As if he was going to let just anyone give Mitsukuni a mystery substance! Unless he knew for a fact that that… liquid (it was debatable, as it jiggled like a gelatin now the phial was opened) would not be detrimental to Mitsukuni's health, Takashi wasn't letting it anywhere near his cousin. Maybe if it was Haruhi, Reiko, or a member of their family (not Satoshi though, since he had no sense of taste), but not a stranger.
The scary thing was, Potter seemed to understand. "Don't worry, this is just a pain killer; I have something for the injury itself, but I thought that Haninozuka-senpai would prefer to be numbed first," the first year smiled disarmingly, the same sort of naturally charming smile that Haruhi had but with that added element of calming that a doctor would use on a patient or the family of a patient. It was almost as if he hadn't been nervous around Takashi mere moments before.
Voices drifted from behind as the runners reached them. "Oh, Potter-kun's here," one sounded relieved.
"Haninozuka-senpai will be better in no time!" Another cheered quietly.
Takashi turned slightly, curious. Kasanoda must have noticed or something, as he jogged out of the group and toward them. Or maybe that had been his intention all along; Takashi could not say.
"Morinozuka-nii-sama, you should trust Harry-kun on this one," Kasanoda defended as he stood over Takashi's crouched form, to which the ender only hmmed and tightened his grip on Potter's wrist. The teen had been about to transfer which hand held the phial while Takashi was turned away, and the kendo champion needed to send the message that he was paying attention and was not letting Potter feed Mitsukuni anything. "He's a very good medic; his company makes the miracle cures."
The miracle cures... Takashi had heard of them of course, and had been administered them on occasion; the Potter Company's standing jumped when Takashi was a child, which was when the medicines first hit Japan, and again when Takashi was in middle school, though the reason for that jump was questionable. And if Potter was the heir to that company, why was he in 1-D rather than 1-B or even 1-A? Surely the higher echelons of the school would welcome him with open arms, provided he was sociable and nice (which he had to be to have been friends with Kasanoda before the Host Club got involved back in August)
He hadn't really made the connection between Potter and the Potter Company (though he knew he should have), but not from ignorance, or at least, not real ignorance. There was only one person who Takashi could associate with the miracle medicines, and even then all Takashi could remember of that man was being helped a bit before he turned eight, the only time he and Mitsukuni had been prey to bullies.
Even so, Takashi could recognize the liquid Potter was still trying to give to Mitsukuni (a few boys in the crowd were actually snickering as they watched Takashi foil those attempts), as Satoshi had been given it back in May after spraining his ankle. It would be followed by a turquoise liquid, if Takashi remembered correctly.
One dismissive glance to Kasanoda later sent the red-head to Potter's side instead, and Takashi fixed the brunet with a sharp gaze. "Why?" A very simple word, that, and one which should also have a very simple answer. On paper, it did. In Takashi's mind, however...
"Should you trust me?" Potter smirked a bit and relaxed his wrist slightly. "Aside from Ritsu's glowing endorsement and my company's prestige, I'm in training to be a fully fledged healer – it's like being a doctor but... more dangerous I guess? - and I am licensed to distribute Class 3 curatives, which include medicines with accelerative properties for bone growth, pain killers, and certain disease preventatives." He then moved his wrist in such a way that he escaped Takashi's grasp, but it left that wrist very open to being snapped; he had confidence that Takashi would not do so, obviously. "Here Haninozuka-senpai, take three sips of this with two second intervals, no more than half the phial and no less than a quarter of it."
... It didn't. The word healer... well, it reminded Takashi even more of the barely-remembered-man from his youth. Potter's description of being a healer was like a physical blow in a way. Takashi could barely remember that man, never mind his appearance – it had been, what, eleven years since then? Surely it was understandable – and he shouldn't feel guilty for remembering so little, but that didn't stop him.
What he could remember was that the man had been precious to him, which was why he valued his stuffed dragon so much. Not that he would ever admit to such a thing, but then again, he would never be asked about his dragon in the first place, so the point was moot.
Still, seeing the specter of that healer, the person Takashi had long since identified as his "first crush", in the first year now tending to Mitsukuni was... disconcerting to say the least. So Takashi made a resolution. He would stay away from Potter. It was probably childish, that he would do it specifically for the reason of Potter saying those words, but Takashi had the niggling feeling that Potter would remind him more of that man every time they met.
The idea of being drawn to someone because they reminded him of his first crush was also not anything he wanted to have to contemplate the morality of. It was repulsive.
"All done, Haninozuka-senpai!" Potter spouted chipperly. "Give it an hour to rest and you'll be good as new! Hey Ritsu, let's get some more running in!" He accepted a hand up from his classmate and jogged off under the noonday sun.
And that was the first time Takashi met Harry.
Coming to Ouran had been a snap decision for Harry. He really hadn't thought much about it; Voldemort was dead, Harry was hounded by fans and miffed Death Eaters alike, and Sirius offered to help him escape the unwanted attention and attacks before he lost his mind from dodging spells or became like Lockhart, drunk on his own fame. They picked Japan because there was no reason to o to Japan. Ouran, because Harry wanted to be normal, which was common knowledge, and as such no one would ever expect him to attend such an affluent and famous academy.
Sirius had stuck around in Tokyo for approximately a week, only long enough for Harry to settle in to the penthouse apartment they had purchased and deal with legalities before heading to Australia to throw off their pursuers.
Still, Harry had purposefully entered the most innocuous section of Ouran High School, class D, so as to be less likely to be noticed by the most suspicious, class A. He didn't want his face plastered across Japanese papers, even just the muggle tabloids, in case they tipped off magical Britain to his presence. Associating with the lowest echelon of Ouran society – which was still practically top tier anywhere else – would keep him safer for longer.
He had quickly found a friend in that class, Kasanoda Ritsu, who was also new to Ouran (though for entirely different reasons, as his family headed a yakuza). However, social pressures forced Ritsu to not be around Harry much after his sixteenth birthday, as he attempted to gain aid from some older students to become more likeable. He especially avoided Harry while the gay rumors were floating about, though it was Harry's secret belief that Ritsu was gay, not that it mattered, given how he acted around that Fujioka boy in the Host Club. He also found a social circle in the Black Magic Club, consisting of squibs, though Kanazuki Reiko didn't like him much at first for reasons unknown.
Things were going smoothly until the Sports Festival in Harry's first year at Ouran. He was anticipating all day for something bad to happen, and then Haninozuka Mitsukuni had sprained his ankle which hardly counted as a catastrophe. But it was. Sure, a fair few people had heard of him and knew that he was from the Potter Company, but word spread like wild fire after one of the most popular boys in the school was healed by him.
That Potter guy's a good medic! Isn't he the heir of the Potter Company? No, he's already the Head!
And so Harry's popularity at Ouran skyrocketed to the point where some students would actually put up with Nekozawa Umehito (1) and the rest of the Black Magic Club to get to him! He earned an article in the Ouran Journalism Club's issue for the first week of November after the end of the Sports Festival, which got published in several larger papers and magazines, and by November thirteenth had found its way to Wizarding Britain. At the same time, Harry was being pulled into the Host Club. Part of it was Mitsukuni being grateful to Harry and inviting him for cake during club hours everyday. Another part was that the other Hosts were curious now too.
Mostly though, it was Harry's own impetus. It wasn't that he wanted to be friends with the most high-profile, high-drama students in the school, even though they were nice and it allowed Ritsu some quality time with his favorite host; it was because of Morinozuka Takashi. Harry had known who Takashi was of course, ever since starting at Ouran in early April. How could he not? The Host Club was... well, everyone knew who they were, and gossip regarding them was rampant. Plus, Takashi's height made him very noticeable.
But, inexplicably, seeing Takashi made Harry calm down. Like... he didn't know what. It was a little similar to how he felt around Sirius, strangely safe despite all evidence to the contrary, and yet it was nothing like that either. It was like he knew Takashi would help him, which made no sense since they had not spoken previously. And by the time they did talk to one another, half a year after Harry came to Ouran, even the blatant distrust did not stifle the strange feelings of safety that had decided to crop up around Takashi. Rather, they increased, though for a wholly different reason that Harry would start to acknowledge as time went by.
So, being drawn in by the Host Club was not, in fact, a bad thing, even though Harry was exceedingly wary of his inexplicable comfort around a certain tall person who was to remain unnamed. Even the purposeful avoidance of the first party by the latter could not adversely affect that, which was rather suspect.
But, really, Harry could consider being found out by the wizarding world a blessing in disguise. At the time he found out that he'd been found, Harry was just leaving a Black Magic Club meeting, and it was no secret after those articles where Harry went to school or who he tended to spend time around. So he was mobbed on the steps of the North Building (2), unable to escape the grasping hands, nor the groping ones.
He'd never done too well with crowds, and enclosed spaces made him edgy, so this could quite easily be described as a traumatizing experience for the young wizard. One particularly cold hand was trying to sneak down the back of Harry's trousers when he really started to freak out, limbs jerking in any way he could get them to in an effort to extricate himself from his "fans"; it wasn't working and there were hands and voices and –
And suddenly Harry had been picked up and tossed over a shoulder. Takashi's shoulder. He would later hear from Mitsukuni how they had seen Harry suddenly assaulted as they were about to head to their waiting car, and how Takashi had run over and half-pushed half-intimidated his way into the middle of the mob where Harry had been flailing. Also, Mitsukuni would continue, Takashi had glared at people until they parted and allowed Takashi to carry Harry to the car (Mitsukuni had not gone into the crowd in the first place, being so small and they so frantic). All through this, of course, Harry was on the verge of a panic attack and saw little more than Takashi's back.
Takashi had carried Harry back to the Haninozuka limo that had come for the eldest Hosts, and Mitsukuni made Harry give the driver directions to his home. When he had been set on the seat, Harry downed half a phial of calming potion – just enough to get his head on straight – and done so with little argument. He then invited the two seniors up to his penthouse and gave them a muggle-friendly and highly-truncated version of what happened and why.
Sirius arrived in Tokyo that night to convince Harry it was time to move on; in the end they both stayed and the flat felt a bit less empty. The Hosts, from that point, became very protective of Harry and made a plan with the Black Magic Club and Ritsu that would keep Harry safe, making sure he was always escorted, even to the point of not allowing him to take the train home. The Hosts' "King" and "Devil" types took this as an excuse to drive Fujioka Haruhi – who, after two days with the Hosts, Harry had figured was female and that Ritsu was not, in fact, gay – home as well.
The third year Hosts took this the most seriously, though they were closely followed by Nekozawa and Ritsu. This meant that only two weeks into their very vague acquaintance, Takashi had stopped avoiding Harry, and Harry instinctual feelings of safety – now rather explicable give The Rescue – turned into camaraderie.
By graduation, Harry recognized it as a crush.
"Wow, Harry-chan! It's so spooky!" Mitsukuni crowed appreciatively from atop Takashi's shoulders as they entered the ballroom of the South Building, and Harry grinned. One year to the day since he had fatefully helped Mitsukuni, and Harry thought he might be in love with Takashi. Crushes died off, but this one had persisted for so long... despite the unrequited nature of the emotions, Harry found he didn't mind having just Takashi's friendship, even if Sirius kept telling him to "just go for it!" as he had with Haruhi's father.
"Thanks Mitsukuni-senpai, but it was all pretty basic wandwork," Harry scratched the back of his head, a bit embarrassed at the praise. It was Hallowe'en, one year since he met the elder-Hosts and six months since he had revealed to all his friends in Japan not already in the know about magic (3). The irony that such a thing occurred on Walpurgis Night (4) was not lost on him.
After a vote conducted very undemocratically (in other words, ideas were pitched and even though there was a vote, everyone just went along with Tamaki's ideas), it was decided that the Hosts would host a Hallowe'en Ball. Harry, having been appointed the Black Magic Club president after Nekozawa's graduation, was requested to help, so he did. All the decor was up to him, and while some "tricks" were blatantly magical, it would seem only as though he had paid gross quantities of money to do it and "salvage" his club's reputation after all the hell Nekozawa caused. Not that Harry thought it needed to be salvaged; the Black Magic Club did not exist to please others, as the Host Club did, but to give squibs a chance to network.
"Yeah Harry-kun," the Hitachiin twins chimed in as they sauntered over. "You did a good job!" They nodded emphatically, and Harry rolled his eyes. They were far too similar to Fred and George for comfort. And the one time both pairs of twins had met... well, Harry still had nightmares and the Weasley twins weren't allowed back in Japan.
"Whatever," Harry did his best to shrug off the praise, but his pleased blush gave him away. He was still unused to being complimented on actually being good at something; in Hogwarts he was complimented on his bravery and on Quidditch, but here he was complimented for his mental capacity and finer skills.
The quiet "Aa" of agreement from Takashi didn't help either.
"Thanks guys; you're costumes aren't half bad y'know," the wizard changed the subject quickly. The Host Club had picked a theme for the ball, each member dressing as movie monsters. Haruhi was a gorgon, Kyouya was a vampire, Tamaki was Frankenstein's monster, the twins were werewolves, Mistukuni was a zombie – complete with a false-patchy-looking Usa-chan – Takashi was a traditional Oni, and the first year Host (for only one had joined that year, a "bashful" type) was a more modern demon out of a popular anime.
Harry's costume was far simpler than any of theirs; he was a wizard. Although his robes had been altered to suit the event, he still looked much as he did wearing the same robes at the Yule Ball in fourth year. Except, as he had been pleased to notice, the alterations had included adding a few inches to the bottom.
The rest of the Black Magic Club though... well, Reiko's Yuki Onna costume was the simplest of the lot, and that had taken half an hour just to get the kimono on.
"Three minutes until the doors open," Kyouya's stern tone permeated the room, despite the fact that he was speaking relatively quietly and from across the hall. "Get into position."
Harry scurried off to where his club mates were finishing their preparations. They had been booked as "entertainment" on top of decor, and everyone would be working a couple shifts at the fortune telling booth. Three could work at a time, but the had eight members this year, so Harry, as president, would be on the first and last shifts of the evening. Thick velvet curtains, heavily laced with various charms, would hide the inside of the tent and give it an intimate feel as well as keeping to the club's dark aesthetic.
Soon, the doors opened, and the Host King made a speech when his subjects were assembled. When he was done, the orchestra struck up a waltz and Harry settled in for his first shift in the booth which was unsurprisingly busy.
Harry's first break came an hour and a half later, at nine. There was some sort of contest going on, a raffle, a popularity contest. Everyone had been given a ticket upon entry and – so far as Harry could gather as he loitered in the non-dancing section of the ballroom, they were to write their favorite Host's name on the ticket and submit it. At ten-twenty, one ticket would be drawn, and the Host whose name was drawn would win. Harry wasn't sure what the Host in question would win, having been occupied with a first year's tea leaves during the announcement, but it had to be good given how excited some of the attendees were getting. There seemed to be no harm in it, and the fact that most of the other boys were practically begging girls to take the tickets away from them went completely over Harry's head as he wrote "Takashi" on his ticket and submitted it.
One ticket had very little chance anyway, given the way Houshakuji Renge was running around collecting boys' tickets and submitting them with Haruhi's name on them.
Harry's second shift started only a few minutes after the drawing was due to take place, so he migrated over to the tented area to check on things while he kept one ear out for the verdict. There weren't any customers though, since none of the girls wanted to miss the drawing and none of the boys cared much about fortune telling; exercising his privileges as President, Harry excused the second shift staff from the last ten minutes of their shift and stood under the canopy to watch the proceedings.
"I hope everyone is enjoying the evening thus far," announced Kyouya from the top of the grand staircase to polite-yet-enthusiastic applause. "It is now time for the drawing. Our President will, of course, be drawing the winner." More clapping, a little more raucous now but it still wouldn't be out of place at a golf tournament. Kyouya faded into the background, as he was prone to do, and Tamaki stepped forward.
His hand reached into the box – which was really some great antique thing that shouldn't be used for something like a raffle – and a single yellow ticket was pulled along with it. Harry wasn't really interested, but since there would be no customers until this ended, he might as well wait it out.
"The winner is," a pause as Tamaki unfolded the ticket and read the name, "Mori-senpai!" Tamaki looked a little surprise, and understandably so. Takashi's was the smallest following of all the Hosts, especially now he'd graduated, which meant that the odds were stacked against him winning. The odds would have been in Tamaki's favor, since he had a seventy-percent designation rate. Polite applause seemed to snap the King out of it, and he continued. "Mori-senpai has the rest of the evening, until the end of the final dance at midnight, to find the owner of the winning ticket. And don't even think about cheating; Kyouya has the list of whose ticket was whose."
"And when the ticket's owner is found, she will give Mori-senpai his prize," Kyouya smiled deviously, but Harry was curious. Was Kyouya going to give the ticket-owner the prize to give to Takashi or – "A kiss.
One eyebrow perked as excited squeals pierced the previously silent hall. That... was a very interesting prize. Had he known, Harry would have just given his ticket to Renge and had done with it. Of course, the chance of it being his ticket was extremely low anyway... but it was Hallowe'en. If it was his ticket, there wasn't anyone Harry could say he gave the ticket to since he didn't know any of Takashi's fangirls well enough to get away with it; they were all notoriously shy.
Well, it was too late to worry about such things anyway. Harry ventured back into the tent, waving the other two on his last shift to join him inside, and settled in to deal with the next flock of girls seeking love fortunes. He wasn't a fan of Divination by any means, it was really more Reiko's forte, but it was a crowd pleaser and wouldn't drive the frivolous, rich students away from the dark corner of the room.
At around eleven thirty, two girls came in together, giggling quietly and gossiping as they waited for Harry to finish reading one of his classmates' tea leaves. After so much experience in eavesdropping at Hogwarts, he couldn't help but listen in.
"Mori-senpai looked so conflicted," giggled the first girl, a brunette and, if Harry recalled correctly, a member of class 2-A with Haruhi.
"He's been staring at that ticket for an hour!" chimed the second, a first-year girl with bleach-brown hair. "Do you think he knows whose it is?"
"Maybe? His face is just so stony! Maybe he has to get up his courage?" Another smattering of giggles.
"But he's Mori-senpai! How could he be afraid of a girl?"
"Next," Harry interrupted as though he had not been listening in to the gossip, and the conversation dropped between the girls as they requested palm readings, just as ninety percent of the girls before them had.
Twenty-five minutes later, Harry dismissed the rest of the third shift, closed the curtains that were acting as doors, and started to close up shop. No one was going to miss the final dance of the night for a palm reading after all. The wizard removed his holly wand from his pocket with a flourish; after that, it was a matter of bibbity bobbity boo to get the various materials – tea cups and pots, incense burners, crystal balls, jack-o-lanterns, candelabra and the like – into the appropriate boxes to the to the proper locations after the pack up ended.
As he was shrinking tables for easier transport, he heard the curtain pull open behind him. The magic stopped immediately, leaving Harry with a child-sized oak table as he whipped around, mad at himself for not casting any sort of locking spell on the curtains. He was halfway through the incantation for a stunning spell before catching the identity of his visitor. That did not stop the spell firing, but Takashi had already knocked Harry's wrist aside, allowing the charm to strike the curtains and be dissipated by the neutralizing charms.
And, despite his curiosity as to why Takashi had come to visit, Harry relaxed.
"Hey Takashi-senpai," Harry greeted, blushing a bit in embarrassment for his hair trigger reaction but refraining from any gestures of discomfort. "Sorry, it's still a reflex y'know?" Being hounded by Death Eaters before coming to Japan had done a number on Harry's reactions, transforming them to a complete "strike first, question later" reflex. In the end, it was easier to apologize than be cruciated.
Takashi hummed a noncommittal reply and entered more fully into the tent so that the curtain could close behind him. Though the tent had previously seemed rather spacious, Harry was feeling a little claustrophobic. Takashi was only one step away from him, if that, and the half-shrunken oak table was less than half a foot behind Harry's calf, he suddenly felt a lot less comfortable.
Damned hormones.
"So, did you find your winner yet? Or are you not actually trying?" Harry turned to face the table to complete its shrinking in hopes of feeling less awkward. And he did feel a bit more comfortable, though he could feel Takashi's gaze on him. Or thought it he could. His sixth sense had always been a bit shaky.
"Aa," the affirmative was, Harry knew, for the first question. Takashi had found his winning ticket girl. "No kiss yet though."
Harry blinked and looked over his shoulder at the university student. "No? But you've only got about three minutes left. Why not? Well, I suppose if you don't want to kiss her, especially if she's a first year student, Merlin forbid! That'd be understandable," Harry mused aloud. Takashi had a sort of asexual vibe, or Harry had always though Takashi was too well controlled to think about that stuff until he was out of university. But he wasn't the type of person to avoid a duty, even if it was just one associated with the Host Club.
"Other way around," Takashi corrected Harry. It only took a moment for Harry to decide that Takashi didn't mean that the girl was older, but rather that she wouldn't want to kiss him.
"That makes no sense," Harry waved off the alumnus. "She entered her ticket, didn't she? She was well aware, I'm sure, what would happen if her ticket won; why enter if she didn't want to give you a kiss?" He returned to his work, internally rolling his eyes. Honestly, who wouldn't want to kiss Takashi? Harry was careful not to say this aloud of course, because even though his sexual orientation was well known around the school, saying awkward things was not high on his to-do list.
Outside, the waltz was winding down, and Harry turned toward where Takashi was still standing a little exasperated.
"Senpai, it's almost midnight," Harry admonished. "Shouldn't you be off getting you k-"
The sentence cut off abruptly, as Takashi leaned forward and Harry's mouth found an entirely new use for itself.
The tip was always the first bit he ate. The little white triangle was savored, then the large orange chunk in the middle, and finally the yellow base. Takashi still didn't see much use in the commoner sweets, they tasted like pure sugar and the taste didn't dissipate half as quickly as he felt it ought to. But Harry loved them, and so Takashi made sure that, dutiful husband that he was, they always had them this time of year.
There was a film on the television, but neither of them were really watching it. They had been married for two months now, and while the difference between married life and lovers-living-together wasn't really noticeable, they both still appreciated it.
Takashi glanced to the side and saw that Harry had a half-eaten candy-corn between his thumb and forefinger, the white bit missing but the rest perfectly intact.
The older of the two raised an eyebrow and moved his arm – which was around the younger's shoulder's – just enough to jar Harry out of his pensive mood. He looked at Takashi and smiled, understanding the unspoken language quite well after so long together.
"I'm fine, just reminiscing," Harry grinned. "About our pre-emptive honeymoon and Hallow's Eve past, present, and future."
He popped the rest of the candy corn in his mouth, not bothering with method for once. That irked Takashi a little bit, so he leaned forward, and when he had returned to his properly seated position, the yellow end of the candy corn was in his mouth, waiting for Harry to finish off the orange part.
Author's Note: Happy Hallowe'en! Hope you enjoyed the fluff :3 I was going to post an HP/DBZ xover on November First, as a b-day gift to Marauder Heir, but I haven't even started it yet and I'm busy all day, so... yeah. Sorry it'll be late! Hopefully this'll tide her over ^^"
(1) Why a foot note? 'Cause I'm Nekozawa for Hallowe'en! I don't have any pictures (yet), but I did post my Beelzenef on DeviantArt if you wanna look (I didn't do too well on the sewing-him-together bit, but the embroidery turned out rather nice, I think)
(2) The Black Magic Club room is in the basement of the North Building (the Host Club is in the South Building).
(3)Under circumstances too complex to be divulged in simple narrative but may, at some point, merit its own one-shot.
(4) Walpurgis Night is, basically, the opposite of Hallowe'en. Magic as at its weakest on this night, the thirtieth of April. If you want more information, look it up. I'm kinda busy trying to get this typed up before midnight (didn't work)