Mycroft showed up early at the Quidditch game that morning. It was freezing. He sat down as soon as he found a free place and waited in the cold, hugging himself through his heavy coat. The match was Hufflepuff against Gryffindor, apparently, and oh! was he jumping in joy. He would have actually been able to enjoy the game on a different occasion, he thought, when being around Greg was just plain fun, and not a fest of half disappointed looks, diet tips, and work out reminders. Mycroft pondered that he didn't really mind being hungry, being sore, the nasty remarks from Sherlock –he was quite used to that, honestly-; he just wanted his friend back, he just wanted to forget about that whole deal. The entire thing had been a terrible idea from the beginning; he had just managed to make himself feel miserable and lonely, and, on top of that, he hadn't been able to drop a single pound –well, maybe one or two-. To be quite honest, he was feeling like the biggest failure to walk this earth. He hugged himself tighter as he sighed.
Greg missed the hoop once. Twice, three times. And then he lost count. Either the Quaffle had gotten bigger or Gryffindor's keeper had gotten remarkably better since the last match. Greg didn't believe either of these was the case.
He tried to concentrate, but his head was somewhere else. He knew he had promised he wouldn't be upset with Mycroft, but he was making it too hard for Greg to help him. He made excuses, he cheated every chance he got... Greg was losing his patience with him because things just weren't working out. He only wished he could be able to forget any of that had happened and go back to the way things were before. Who gave a freaking damn if his friend was a little on the heavy side? Or a lot? Greg knew he didn't. His parents? Perfectionist bastards who wouldn't be satisfied if Mycroft became captain of the English National Quidditch Team. Sherlock? Well, Greg didn't think Sherlock actually cared; mocking Mycroft about his weight was just the easiest way to mock him, simple as that.
In the meantime, the game kept developing around him. He dodged a Bludger by practically twisting upside-down. It had been far too close for his taste. He had made a decision, but right now, he needed to focus; he could deal with Mycroft later.
Gregory had been a little off at the beginning of the game, but Mycroft evaluated it hadn't been too bad. He was able to score a few points, and in the end Hufflepuff's seeker had caught the Snitch. Not too terrible at all.
On the way back to the castle he heard Greg's voice calling, and, in turning, he saw him running behind him, trying to catch up. Mycroft waited and managed a smile. Greg seemed more cheerful than of late; when he got next to Mycroft he was wearing an honest smile on his flustered face.
-Congratulations, you played rather well.
-Oh, it wasn't my best, but thank you.
He paused for a second, and his smile faded a little.
-Listen, do you have a minute? I think we need to talk. Come on.
Mycroft didn't particularly like the sound of that, but he stayed as composed as he could and followed Greg's lead to under the shadow of a distant tree. No one was around.
Greg looked tired, sweaty and hadn't really caught his breath still, but Mycroft couldn't help but notice he seemed more far more relaxed that he had been in days.
-I have something for you.
Greg searched a small pocket in his sports bag. Out came a handful of toffees that Mycroft recognized perfectly well.
-Anthea gave them to me; she said she took them from your bag. I don't know how that's even possible, but she is more cunning than she seems at first sight.
Mycroft was getting used to feeling that burning sensation on his cheeks, the sudden numbness on his legs; the shame.
-Greg, I...
-Wait, don't. Stop.
Greg put the toffees on Mycroft hand and looked at him in the eye. He smiled with a warmness that made Mycroft blush even more intensely.
-You are running out of 'I'm sorrys' and 'it won't happen agains', look just…
He put an awkward but affectionate hand on Mycroft's shoulder.
-You know you don't actually have to do this, right? It's fine. You are fine. There's nothing actually wrong with you. Okay, so you are not exactly the athletic type, so what?
Greg shrugged and let out a nervous little laugh.
-I think you are quite... perfect. Just the way you are. You don't have to do this for anyone but you, and, honestly? I have never seen you more miserable than now, when I reckon you were perfectly fine before. I don't think I understand, frankly.
Mycroft stared down at the candy in his hand. He pondered he wouldn't have had to sneak them around if he could allow himself one or two every once in a while. He bit his lower lip.
-I know you are right, Greg, I know.
Mycroft sighed, trying to find the right words.
-But I don't know how… not to do this.
He tried to keep his voice steady and emotionless, but it was becoming harder with each word he said. He just managed to soften his tone until it was but a whisper.
-For all my life I have been told I'm not good enough, that I have to deal with this, this imperfection, or whatever you want to call it.
Greg slipped his hand from Mycroft's shoulder to his hand and tangled his fingers with his. For a second all was silence; neither of them knowing what to do or say next. Mycroft could feel the tips of his fingers tingling at the contact with Greg's warm skin.
Greg's voice came out in a murmur.
-No one's perfect, after all. And that's all right.
The wind was whispering in their ears. Mycroft could feel his heart pounding in his chest. It was the moment to make a choice; he just had to… take the leap.
Greg was saying something, filling the silence, but then he was cut by Mycroft's lips on his. He gave out a moan, half in surprise, half something else.
-Shut up.
-Okay.
This time the kiss was longer and kinder. Mycroft threw the toffees on the grass to be able to grab Greg's other hand. After the kiss broke, they stood there a minute, their lips still searching for more, brushing slightly against the other's.
-This is it.
Mycroft said, finally breaking the kiss.
-What?
They looked at each other in the eyes. Greg reflected that Mycroft's smile was sincere for the first time in weeks.
-Perfection.