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Second Chapter
The first word Matthew Williams uttered to himself the following morning was a hearty "fuck" because a) he was hard due to the fact that he had a very, very nice dream involving a certain Veela, tons of whipped cream and a strawberry, b) said Veela currently slept on his sofa which didn't exactly make it easier to get less aroused and c) his pet bear, tiny and white as snow but with a hunger that matched his brother Alfred's, kept poking him into the rips and murmuring an almost pained "Food. Foooooood.". At least c) wasn't something he wasn't used to and so he groggily decided to take a shower first- cold, colder than usual even to get rid of problem a)-, got up and padded into the bathroom while discarding the sleep sweater and boxers he always wore at night. Thankfully, his bear didn't follow him but chose to leave the bedroom in a pace that even a snail could have trumped.
The shower was successful in solving problem a) and also almost freezing his balls off, so he dressed a little quicker than usual and relished for a moment in the warmth of his most favorite, red Hoodie, plain, reliable jeans and thick, black, woolen socks. A quick shave to get rid of the designer stubble he unfortunately always grew over night followed, finished with a quick brush of his teeth and a hasty combing of his hair.
Matthew went down the stairs while humming the melody of an old tune Arthur once had sung to him and Alfred when they were children and stopped dead when he discovered François still laying on the sofa, hidden beneath several blankets he apparently had gathered together from all over the living room. Cautiously, he neared himself the Half-breed and kneeled down in front of him, hesitated a long while and swallowed hard before he finally extended a hand and let his fingertips ghost over François' beautiful, blonde hair. However, he shied back when François let out a groan and his face appeared from under the blankets, looking worn-out and tired, his eyes swollen and his face deadly pale.
"I'm sorry," Matthew said quietly and tried down to calm his racing heart because even though François looked horrible, he still somehow managed to be beautiful, even though Matthew couldn't decide whether he should be spellbound or worried. "I didn't want to wake you, but-well, you don't look very well, how do you feel?"
"You didn't wake me, chéri, that bear of yours already did," François said and Matthew swallowed again after hearing his voice being rough and thick from sleep. He realized that it probably wasn't only because of the sleep when François coughed slightly and huddled deeper into the blankets. "How come it talks?"
"Kuma got enchanted by my twin brother Alfred when we were kids," Matthew explained and put a hand on François' forehead to frown in concern when he felt how hot it was. "We never found out how to cure the spell and I don't mind anymore. I think you got a fever."
"I think I am dying," François said and looked so miserable that Matthew couldn't suppress a fond, small laughter and immediately automatically apologized for it.
"You won't," He said with an assuring smile. "I will make you some tea now and a good, strong broth later and take good care of you, don't worry."
François smiled at him. "Oh, I am sure you will, chéri. But first I'd like to take a bath, I feel grimy, this won't do!"
Matthew sighed. "Alright," He then said gently, "I'll make breakfast and then you can take a bath, how about that?"
"That's fine, merci, do you need help, chéri?"
Oh, the tone he said those words with! Matthew felt his cheeks redden and murmured a quiet "No, thank you" to hush into the kitchen as fast as possible. He took his time with preparing Kumili's food and putting a kettle of tea on the stove while watching his animal friend with a fond smile. They had been together since Matthew's early childhood when they had found each other in the snow, a sad little boy and an abandoned bear cub. Matthew remembered how astonished Arthur had been when he had found them curled together instead of Matthew's head having been bitten off, so astonished that he had given in to Matthew's soft pleas and taken the baby bear with them. As if he had heard his thoughts, Kumajesus lifted his head and watched him with big, black eyes.
"Hey," He addressed Matthew and padded to him to get scratched behind the ears. "Who?"
"Matthew," Matthew said automatically, then he realized that one of Kuma's paws gestured towards the kitchen door. "Oh, you mean him?"
The bear nodded. "Well, I found him! His name is François and he is going to stay with us for a little while, are you fine with that?"
"Hurt," Kumi said after a moment of consideration. "Warm here. Food. Fran stays."
"Eh, that's nice of you," Matthew laughed and turned around to put the now whistling kettle off the stove and hurried to take some bread, butter and marmalade out of the storage room, placing it on two plates before he poured the tea in two cups and left the kitchen to place everything on a tray on the wooden coffee table in front of the sofa. "Breakfast is ready, François."
"Oh!" François said and sat up, still huddled into the blankets. He sighed when he noticed the teakettle. "No coffee?"
"Tea is better for your health," Matthew explained with a little smile and handed him over a cup. François sighed, but he placed his hand gratefully around the warm porcelain and eyed the assortment of butter and marmalade with a note of interest. "Is this orange?"
"Ah, yes," Matthew answered watched with almost horrified amazement as François grabbed the marmalade glass and a spoon and dumped it into it to lick off the marmalade. Matthew tried not to stare at his tongue lavishing the spoon in an almost lewd manner and instead cleared his throat. "D-Don't you want some bread too?"
"Ah, non, merci, this is fine, chéri," François twittered and continued to lick. Matthew clamped his hands around his cup, took a big gulp and tried to distract himself by ascending the wood in the fireplace again and swinging his wand to clean the living room. François watched him with a small smile and interested eyes, still sucking on the spoon and sighing longingly. "I remember the comfortableness of a wand," He said thoughtfully. "It doesn't make you tired and channeling your power is so much easier."
"You don't have a wand?" Matthew asked with considerable surprise while buttering himself a piece of bread and taking a bite. François smiled bitterly and shook his head.
"Wands are something for wizards, Mathieu," He explained and sighed. "Mine was broken into pieces when it was discovered what I was in my first year at Beauxbatons. Half-breeds are not considered to be responsible and worthy enough to carry a wand. It is such a shame, really, Beauxbatons once was proud of the Veela blood it contained, there were so many pretty girls!"
"I can imagine," Matthew responded and sighed too, finishing up his breakfast and watching François placing the spoon unceremoniously on the tray and lightly humming to himself. "I will prepare a bath for you, okay?"
"That would be nice, merci," François said and looked up to send him a thoughtful, inquiring gaze from under long, light eyelashes that made Matthew squirm with embarrassment and leave the living room to storm up the stairs into the bathroom. The bathtub, separated from the shower and rarely ever used by him since he usually preferred to shower, was big enough to contain three people if needed since he had magically enhanced the bathroom and so it needed a while to fill it up with water, enough time to let him calm down and stop his thoughts from wandering to very bad ideas.
When the bathtub finally was full, he stood up and wandered downstairs again to help François gently into the bathroom. He noticed the heaviness in François' steps, the way he had to rely almost his entire weight upon Matthew and the relieved sigh that escaped his lips when he settled down on the rim of the bathtub and pulled the nightshirt over his head before Matthew could leave the room. Matthew didn't know whether to stare at the slightly red gauze or François' slim- no, not slim, Matthew corrected himself; he was thin and this wouldn't do, he needed to coddle him up a bit-, pale body with light, golden hair covering his chest and arms, a happy trail starting below his navel, disappearing in the boxers he was still wearing. Whenever he moved, dark shadows appeared under his collarbones and Matthew had to swallow down the desire to lean forward and lick over it like a beaver over some goddamn maple. François lifted his head and smiled at him- then he pulled his boxers down with a swift motion.
"I will get you a towel," Matthew murmured and ran out of the room as if fleeing from the devil himself, desperately trying to remain a calm, collected gentleman as his father had taught him and not turn around on his heels, storm back into that goddamn bathroom and release the sexual needs of four years on the Veela like Albus Dumbledore beating up Grindelwald like a motherfucking boss.
He never was more disappointed than when he succeeded in doing so.