It is a fairytale, the image of Hosgmeade in winter. The drifts of white snow at the edges of the road and on the roofs paint it with a pale whiteness, but which ironically matches perfectly with the colors of buildings that have always been immobile in time. At every step the footprints remain in the snow, with the result that it is easy to establish which are the most frequented places; a great many continue in the same direction in which he is headed, towards Madame Rosmerta's inn. Others towards Honeydukes or Zonko - they are usually the smallest of all, he notes, and it makes him smile.
It smells of enchantment, the air he breathes. And he, always moving towards the place of his appointment, allows himself to breathe it long and intensely, returning for just a moment to being a boy full of amazement and wonder. And besides, looking at it at moments like that, even to the most magic-free being in the world that town would seem so beautiful as to be unreal.
A sudden gust of cold makes him shiver, and as he wraps himself tighter in his blue scarf, he is happy to have finally reached his destination. The Three Broomsticks welcomes him with a pleasant warmth, a lively chatter and the warm smile of the owner, who soon indicates a table - the usual one, the one she always occupies and where his date is already sitting. He arrived a few minutes ago, she says; smiling even more radiantly if possible, she lets him join her alone and goes back to her business. He is sure she winks at him, but pretends not to notice.
Tomohisa does not notice him immediately. He seems to be lost in thought, but the sound of his footsteps is enough to make him shake himself enough, and turning in his direction he welcomes him with an even more radiant smile than the one that was given to him just a moment ago. He calmly reciprocates, and slowly moves his chair to sit in front of him; he even takes off his Ravenclaw scarf, and places it on his lap after carefully folding it. The entire time, the Gryffindor doesn't speak or say anything - he likes, if he's being honest, that she gives him time to get comfortable; he only glimpses him nodding towards the counter, probably to ask the staff to bring him a drink too. There's no need to specify what, after all - they've been going to that place for years, and Kazuna has been ordering the same thing for years, whether out of habit or simple preference. The other has never asked why.
He's the one to break the silence, making eye contact. He places his hand on the wooden table, and drums his fingers as he waits for his drink to arrive; the other's gesture is quick, as always – he slowly reaches out, and with extreme delicacy he places it on top of it. He lets him do it, and to Tomohisa it seems to mean a lot because the way he relaxes is more obvious than ever. He even manages to temporarily put aside whatever was distracting him before his arrival, and begins to softly stroke the back of his hand with his thumb.
"Sorry it took me a while."
"Oh, no problem. I didn't wait too long."
He knows it's a lie and snorts in amusement, as if to say he doesn't believe him one bit. Caught red-handed, he chuckles – but Kazuna's butterbeer arrives moments later, and any attempts at reprimanding him are lost in nothing.
"So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"
A soft sigh and he relaxes again, and slowly intertwines their fingers. It's the year of the MAGO, and there's little time they can afford to spend together; so, even he, who is usually the more reserved of the two, decides to allow himself some liberties in public. He lifts the mug with his free hand and slowly brings it to his lips – it's his turn to wait for the others' time, he tells himself.
And yet there's a hesitation on his part that he's not used to, and that leads him, once he's stopped drinking and puts the glass back on the wooden table, to look at him questioningly. He takes a long breath; and then, as if nothing had happened, he goes back to being the usual Tomohisa. Even the smile on his lips seems unchanged, as if it had never really vanished.
"… You know, I thought. This year we'll have exams."
The expression remains questioning. He even raises an eyebrow, and simply nods, so as not to interrupt him. He waits a moment, to be sure he can continue.
"And that once we graduate we'll see each other less often."
He is silent. He doesn't stiffen, but he looks at him more seriously now – he would be lying if he said he expected a speech like that when, that morning at breakfast, the other man approached his table to ask him to dedicate the afternoon to him. But he would never dare interrupt him, and so he doesn't; however, he can't help but squeeze his hand tighter, to seek comfort and reassurance that Tomohisa doesn't fail to reciprocate immediately. He smiles with that intimate kindness that he knows is only his. And that's enough for the negative thoughts to leave him just as they came.
"Don't worry, Kazu, I'm not thinking of anything extreme. More or less."
"… Define this as 'more or less,' Tomohisa."
He chuckles.
"You don't trust me, huh."
"No." but there is no malice in his voice. "Over the years I have learned that your brain has its own way of processing things."
He does not deny it, and in fact senses a silent apology in the look he gives him. He allows himself to sigh again, but there is something obviously amused in his tiredness, to those who know him well enough. After all, he also loves that about Tomohisa – the way he is in some ways almost innocent , as if he had never stopped being a boy. A nod, accompanied by a "Go on, carry on.", and with the index finger of his free hand he now touches the rim of his own mug of butterbeer.
Again, however, the other pauses for a second, and leans just enough to take from the pockets of his coat what turns out to be a small box. It is simple, without any decorations, so that it is rather difficult for him to deduce its contents; he shifts his gaze back to him, then, even when Tomohisa pushes him in his direction and even breaks their physical contact with the obvious intention of opening it, once he's finished talking.
"I want to continue seeing you every day." he says. And there's such an intimate and personal nuance in his voice that perhaps that alone would be enough to embarrass him - because that's a tone he knows, and that he's rarely seen him use in simple everyday situations.
"But I had no idea how to do it. We want to do different things, after graduation, and I would never ask you for anything too selfish." he takes a long pause, and the box in his hands. He turns it over a couple of times, and Kazuna wonders if even he, perhaps, doesn't feel a hint of embarrassment at that moment. He, on the other hand, is almost completely certain that he's blushed, although not excessively. "So I talked to Ryuuji about it, and in the end I found a... solution, maybe."
Inside the box there's a key. A simple metal key, even modern by the standards of the magical world – carefully, as if it were a precious object, Tomohisa takes it and holds it in the palm of his hand and offers it to him. He speaks, and he does so without ever breaking eye contact, without ever varying the softness with which he addresses him; he speaks, and Kazuna has the impression of perceiving, in that single request, years and years of expressions, kisses, caresses. He does it without needing anything more than that. He does it without needing to actually touch him.
"Would you come live with me, Kazu?"
And it is not surprising that he looks away, and for a moment even hides his face in his hands; Tomohisa, at least, is not surprised, and only looks at him, only waits – again, and even though it's the daily nature of their interactions at that moment, even that has the power to make his heart beat even faster than it already does.
"…You really are an idiot."
But she puts her hand over his that's holding the key, and takes it in hers. And that's it. Neither of them need anything else.
"There are months left until school ends."
"I could never have waited months to know that one day I would find you home."
She doesn't answer. Not out loud, at least—and it's Tomohisa's turn to be surprised; by the way he leans in, by the way he presses his lips to hers, by the fact that he doesn't seem to mind having more than one gaze on him. And some people might clap, and some people might smile, and some people might shout their congratulations.
It doesn't matter to either of them. They both have the greatest gift in their hands.