Busy Streets
An hour before sundown...



The busy streets hurried by, in a rush there was a quick urgency to be free from the cold. A bitter wind blew in the winter, early this year he worried, and not a soul prepared. The school year in full swing, and the business gearing up for the season; Gale had taken to the day in an early manner, and stood now in the wonderment of it all. He’d felt rather small in the midst of it all, the city streets alive with the second wizarding tournament, and the preparation that came along with the event, but it was the leaves of the autumn tree that caught his attention.

The arctic wind had blown in a little squal, the dark somber skies threatening a storm, but it was too early for such a shower. Yet, one by one little flakes came around and stuck to the salty surface of the decaying leaves, and in this Gale couldn’t help but be reminded of home. He watched with dire attention, and ignored those that pushed past him to admire the way the winter white clung to the deep crimson red. Beautiful. It was beautiful, and though everything about him seemed to change he couldn’t help but feel that this deep love of the winter would never leave him. Born unto it, a son of the Winter Soltice he was often teased that his blood was made up of snow crystals and bitter ice. That his hair was nothing more than the slick surface of a winter frost. He’d wanted it gone when he was younger, cried in the mirror while painting it wit mud to better fit in, but now he embraced it. He’d grown to cherish every difference in him, and even the pale metallic surface of his good eye made him feel strangely sane.

Arthur, who had his faults, and his horrid temper at one point saw in him something that no body else could. If anything it was his looks, exotic and rare, but at least it was something that no one else had. And now shivering in his wrap he hardly felt the cold when he thought of the past.

“I’d like a leaf to take home please,” He spoke to the tree, and in that the wind pushed against his face until it stung; but in doing so a few frail frozen leaves left the branches in a rush. Gale quick to draw out his wand summoned the fleeting crimson flag to his hand, and he closed his fingers to keep it close.

“So c-cold,” He wasn’t dressed warm enough at all, having not expected such a storm to blow through and when he turned his back to the wind he was blinded by the way his hair whipped over his face and stung his lips. He didn’t see where he was going, but simply joined in the sea of people heading for the shops.

1.	Wailin Jenny's Starlight

Chaz rubbed his hands together vigorously and then brought them to his face so he could blow on them.  The moist warmth felt good as he was exhaling but the moment he stopped and the cold wind got a hold of the condensation they froze once again. Wincing, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his wool coat and hunched his shoulders forward.  The grey hoodie under his coat protected his neck and shoulders well enough but his legs underneath his jeans were pleasantly numb.  He'd been invited to Dolly St. James' birthday party and he figured that, to be polite, he ought to bring a gift.  It would have to be small and inexpensive but he shouldn't go empty handed.  Maybe he could draw something, he thought idly as he shuffled along through the crowd of bundled up witches and wizards. 

He stopped at a shop window and peered into it.  There were delicate, crystalline figurines in the window.  Birds flapped and chirped, ballerinas twirled on one foot with their skirts flaring out.  They were pretty and elegant like Dolly but the tiny handwritten cards that had the names and prices of the works sent him reeling.  They were way too expensive for his unemployed self.  Even if he had a job currently, he wouldn't buy such a thing for someone he just met, even the endearing Dolly.  He shook his head at what people were willing to pay for these days and moved on. 

He gave up looking for a present when he wandered past a bakery.  The smell of fresh pastries and coffee lured him in.  He was helpless to the sweet aroma.  Chaz went in and when he came out a few minutes later with a bag and a cup of coffee, he felt infinitely better about the weather.  Flakes of snow settled in his short brown hair and on the heavy black fabric on his shoulders.  He just let them accumulate while he reached into the bag for his first sweet confection.  He was looking into the bag when he collided with someone slender but solid.  The bag slipped from his hand, as did his coffee.  The bag landed with a soft plop but the coffee exploded all over the snow and on two pairs of shoes.  Gaping, Chaz began apologizing profusely but then realized that he recognized the long silver hair whipping into his face and obscuring the other man.

Leaning in to peer through the hair, he placed on hand on the man's upper arm.  "Gale?" he asked.  "Are you ok?  I didn't hurt you did I?"

At first Gale wasn't certain what struck him, or what it was that splashed over his feet. He argued with his hair to push it from his face, and was instantly caught by the man standing there.

I didn't hurt you did I?

"No," He laughed, a musical sound that seemed as surprised of the heat of the coffee as it was the man standing before him. "But I suppose we are even now hmm?" He grinned, uncanny for the little Charms Professor who so rarely seemed pleased. The dark night was still a few hours from now, but with the heavy thick clouds above them it made the shop's windows light the gold in Chaz's deep brown hair, and made the snow seem seem like rain. It was too early for the snow to accumulate too much, but it was the threat of a very cold winter.

"Though I suppose it wasn't really your fault huh?" He worried his lip between his teeth, and was caught by the way the coffee's aroma filled him. He didn't want to leave the man on the streets, but didn't want to seem too forward either. But he had to replace that coffee didn't he? And the only way of keeping Chaz close on such a busy street was....

"Come on, I'll get you another one." He took a chance, took his arm, and without thinking slipped his hand inside the other's so that way their fingers could lace together as he started to lead him back through the crowd. With his free hand he still held the leaf to his chest, and kept his wrap closed. And with keeping a few steps ahead, he tried to keep the worried nervous frown from forming that half expected Chaz to pull away any time.

You stupid fool, you dumb stupid fool. Look at how pathetic you are. A freak in the streets, and holding his hand...How da-- The bell of the door way broke his thoughts, and upon it's close he pulled his fingers free as Chaz's hand was made of fire.

"It's on me. I'm sure your ruined suit is nothing compared to this." He wiggled his toes in his deer skin shoes, and flushed--a deep peach color as he turned to place his order.

A bright and delighted smile bloomed on Chaz's face when Gale's hand slipped down his arm and laced with his fingers.  He was lead through the alley by the hand and he was thoroughly tickled that the timid man from the dance touched him again at all, especially given the way he'd practically ran from the party when the clock struck 12 like some sort of male Cinderella.  The only thing he hadn't gotten was a souvenir like a slipper.  He found himself thanking Merlin that the wizarding world wasn't too big that they could run into each other again, literally.  So he followed along willingly, weaving between people so they wouldn't accidentally get separated.

The bakery hit them with a blast of delicious warmth.  The orange light from the candles and the fire made the air look like the cinnamon so heavy in the air.  Once inside, Gale dropped Chaz's hand rather abruptly and talked about Chaz's suit and his cup of coffee.  It didn't sit right with him, the way Gale seemed to think he owed him something.  He reached out, took Gale's hand and pulled him close again so that they were almost touching.  "How about you let me get this one?  You got the last one after all?"  He grinned at Gale, studying his face and the line of the eye patch before taking some of Gale's long hair and letting it slide through his fingers.  "Clothing is just clothing.  Good company, however, irreplaceable." 

He turned to the counter and ordered a large Hazelnut Coffee with cream and sugar before turning to Gale and asking him what he'd like.  He placed a few coins down on the counter to head off any argument or discussion about payment.  He kind of wanted to apologize for not paying attention and at the same time show his new friend that there were two sides to every head-on collision.

Maker, he was charming. It was strange to be around someone so blatantly sweet, and kind. Gale liked how young he felt talking to this man, how warm his fingers were despite the cold, but what truly warmed him the most was the way Chaz took charge. He liked the way he smiled, and the way he seemed pleased at being here. Gale loved the feel of his hand taken—stolen really as he went about. And though he lavished the touch, wanted to lean into it, and curl his fingers again he quietly pulled free to put his hands up on the counter.

“Um…” He looked over the menu, squinting with his good eye unable to make out the fine print, and just ordered the same as Chaz. Though, “Two sugars please.” He flushed having never really liked the taste of coffee until he discovered how wonderful the syrups and the sugars made it.

“I’m really just here for the company.” He told the woman at the counter, and wrapped his hands around the mug.

“So. Is Chaz short for Charles?” He quipped a coy grin waiting for Chaz to gather his coffee so they could find a seat by the fire. The air was so cold, but inside the little shop he seemed to melt away. Happy, and content with his sweet coffee and an apple turn over he hesitated a moment wondering if Chaz really wanted to sit and talk or just leave? Deciding against asking, Gale just made his way by the table closest to the fire, and curled his wrap around him upon taking his seat. The wet snow had started to dry, curling his hair on the ends, and made the long strands seem to be made of silk ribbons.

A huff of breath escaped him in a rush when they sat opposite one another at a table by the fire.  Merlin, Chaz thought to himself, he's beautiful.  Not even Malcolm had been able to achieve this level of delicate grace.  No matter how hard the Frenchman tried, he had never reached this level, nor would he ever.   It almost took Chaz's breath away.  And yet, Chaz wasn't so taken in by Gale's exterior that he didn't remember the strength in those hands and the sharp reactions to unexpected situations.  Chaz was intrigued because he felt like he needed to protect the man in front of him from some unidentified danger, but at the same time felt as though he should be wary. 

When asked about his name, Chaz grinned uneasily and rubbed the back of his neck.  "Actually," he confessed, "It's short for Chester but if you ever call me that I may have to kill you."  He laughed and shook his head before taking a sip of his latte.  With a lazy shrug he continued, "My parents cling to quite a few old-fashioned beliefs that I don't agree with.  I shed the name when I shed their ideals and I don't particularly feel like going back to either."

Chaz sat up and shrugged off his suit jacket and the grey hoodie he'd used for insulation.  He draped them over the back of the chair, pushed the sleeves of his red long-sleeved shirt up to his elbows and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the tabletop.  He reached out and stole the corner of Gale's apple turnover and popped it into his mouth with a challenging twinkle in his eyes.  "How about you?  How did you get your name?"

"Ah. I see." He said over the top of his mug, enjoying the way it warmed his skin as he cooled the surface and took a sip, "Chaz it is. Chess, even. Bishop, Rook, or Pawn?" He wouldn't think him a knight, though he had to wonder if there was a fight beneath him somewhere. "Your parents sound the exact opposite of mine." Gale answered as he leaned back, and crossed one leg over another. His smile for Chaz was secret and intimate even if they were at arms length with one another.

"Gale is actually short. For the bird of a night song? Is this the right English? Nightingale. Rossignol. I came out singing, not crying they say. My sire his name is Kesali, and in this I was born. It's a Romany name meaning Forest Spirit." Gale leaned into his hand playing with the ends of his hair as he ran his fingers from top to bottom to ease his nerves. "I do not have any regrets of my childhood. I was raised with kindness and love, but in the laps of thieves, whores, and drug lords. When I was invited to Hogwarts, our caravan was in London, and I am the first in many generations to be accepted. I fell in love with the stability of the school, of having a life that was constant, but I still crave my freedom."

Rambling, Nightingale, as always.

"Forgive me." He smiled as he looked down into his coffee, "So Chess, what is it you do again?"

Chaz frowned for a moment, confused by the turn of the conversation about his name.  Bishop, rook, or pawn?  Was he meant to choose one that represented him?  He knew how to play chess in a dim, half-remembered sort of way.  His mother had insisted upon learning it because that's what cultured people did.  He'd never had much interest in it though, too busy staring out the window and daydreaming.  "I suppose I'd be a rook," Chaz said finally, scratching his head.  "Although I liked making up stories about the knights.  On my childhood set, they were the only pieces that looked like something I could work with."  He meant, of course, that they looked like horses, which was a far easier thing to play make-believe with than a blank, knobbed pawn.  He'd earned a swat or two for making whinny noises and prodding the knights to chase one another across the board.  Undignified!  He could hear it now.

"Nightingale," Chaz murmured, tasting the full name on his tongue to see how it sat.  Elegant and beautiful like the man himself.  He'd never met any of the Romani, for all that he spent his young adult years in France where they originated.  He'd heard stories of them, like most people had.  Gypsies, travelers, thieves, whores, and all manner of disreputable people.  Gale admitted to that much himself although Chaz wouldn't be so disrespectful as to go tossing those words around as an outsider.  He liked Gale too much to risk insulting him so early on their relationship.

"My own schooling had a big impact on me as well, although, like you said, in a completely opposite way.  I found I liked the freedom school offered me to express my opinions.  Architecture as a field, though, has proven to me just how strongly the wizarding world will cling to old things that just don't work any more."  He shook his head ruefully and then tilted his head to the side with curiosity.  "What are you apologizing for?"

"My own schooling had a big impact on me as well, although, like you said, in a completely opposite way.  I found I liked the freedom school offered me to express my opinions.  Architecture as a field, though, has proven to me just how strongly the wizarding world will cling to old things that just don't work any more."

Gale smiled, and of the sort that would reach his eyes had they both been exposed. The only visible one wrinkled around the corner where his laugh lines deepened, and he parted his pale lips to agree, "My family would love you. They share the same beliefs, but I do not know if I can share your opinion. I like old, and familiar." He looked down at the rags he wore now, knowing tomorrow he'd have to go shop for Dolly's party. Everything about that woman was new and exciting--Chaz too, and if he hoped to not be an outcast there too he'd have to pick up a few new things.

"I suppose you would be a rook, my castle destroyer." Gale stretched his foot out on the chair next to them, bending to tie up the lace on his deerskin shoe. "I suppose I have a fancy for knights as well. Though they are too risky and gamble a great deal." His chest tightened around his heart as he thought of his dark knight, the black haired Slytherian that stole it once. "End up dead, and often first." Off the topic he strayed, and when Chaz asked what it was he was apologizing for Gale righted his position and shuffled a blush over the backs of his fingers.

"I ramble, and talk a lot. It's a curse. And I was teased often. Especially when I'm nervous." He stopped to admire Chaz a moment, and pulled one leg to his chest so that way he could rest his chin on his knee. The warm fire, and the honeyed smell of his coffee made everything seem surreal it was too perfect. He was gorgeous, and those blue eyes...

"So do you live near by?"

"I prefer to think of myself as the castle, not the castle destroyer," Chaz said quietly.  He rubbed his fingers into the wood grain of the tabletop so hard that, if it hadn't been worn with years of use, he would have earned himself a splinter.  He felt a great deal of anxiety about the notion of home versus home destruction.  So many people, professors, classmates, and employers had accused him of trying to destroy the wizarding castle, or architecture.  It wasn't true, he didn't want to rip the world apart and start over, he just thought they should all keep moving forward, progressing instead of clinging to the past. 

"Don't get me wrong, I value stability too and the old and familiar have their place.  I just..."  Chaz laughed and shrugged.  "I don't know.  I think new things should be unashamed to be new, you know?  Instead of hiding behind some sort of ancient mask."  This sort of thing was hard to describe to someone who had no interest in architecture.  Most people didn't really think about the spaces they lived in.  They just adapted to what existed no matter how bad it really was.  It was difficult, sometimes, to be one of the few people to think seriously about it. 

Chaz stopped rubbing the table with his fingertip and began to fiddle with the little tins of condiments and the unlit candle in the center of the table.  He began to arrange them subconsciously, building a little scene while talking to Gale as though the man had his entire attention.  "I didn't notice you rambling," he said with an honest smile.  "Besides, I find the whole thing to be incredibly interesting.  I find you to be incredibly interesting, if that doesn't sound to cheesy.  Sometimes I feel like I ramble about architecture.  I can't help it but I've gotten pretty good at recognizing that glazed look people get when I go too far."  His eyes twinkled with good humor about the situation, although a part of him deep down inside was a little bitter about not being able to talk about his passion very often.

He waved his hand idly and turned the tin of sugar so that the spoon faced a different direction.  "I live nearby in a dumpy little flat.  It's cheap though, which is good since I'm not employed."

His heart hurt, he could see the way Chaz was a bit let down by the way the conversation went, and Gale quickly moved to right his wrong. His hand without thinking came to cover Chaz's own, stilling it from it's nervous fidgeting, and he brushed his fingers over his knuckles. The act itself was concealed from the rest, hidden behind their coffee and treats, but if he knew Gale at all--this one little act was something rare.

"Hey, I didn't mean I don't care. Trust me. I live in a castle. I'd love to have my own bathroom. And I think you are very right about something new, but you have to embrace the old as well. Maybe learn to meet in the middle. A couple in Scotland once turned an old castle's ruins into a home. They built around it instead of over it. Or like those homes that are build around a tree instead of knocking it down. I think that you'd be a lot more welcome with ideas like that than simply walking in and wanting things changed." He leaned in to whisper, looking up through his dark lashes--a perfect contrast from his otherwise pale complexion.

"You are a dreamer Chaz, your dreams are of a better future for yourself and for you community. Don't you let anyone take that away from you. You have come so far to let such doubt fill your eyes. Stop it." And with that he released his hand to take up his mug again, and crossed one leg over the other.

"Now, tell me what it is you can do for an old Professor with a deep love of art nouveau. Because I'll need somewhere to come home to when the school year is out."

Chaz froze when the warmth of Gale's hand settled on his own and fingers rubbed over his knuckles.  With the way Gale leaned in a bit and looked at him intently with his one good eye, it all felt very intimate despite the hum and bustle of shoppers thawing out in the bakery.  He was touched by Gale's concern and effort to mediate the conditions, although his initial reaction was to let his hackles up and defend his viewpoint to bitter end.  Instead, he let it fade away as he pulled his hand free and reached out.  His fingertips brushed the pale skin on Gale's jaw and slid up softly.  "Thank you," he breathed.  He tucked his hand into his lap and, for once in his life, sat completely still and did not fidget. He wanted to remember the feel of Gale's cheek.

He smiled when Gale mentioned art nouveau.  Looking at the drape of his wrap and the curls of his hair, the half-moon earrings, it was easy to see that the period was the man's strongest inspirations.  He'd researched it in school and France had some of the most inspired examples of art nouveau architecture Chaz had ever seen made reality.  He nodded.  "I could probably work something out for you, do a couple of sketches.  You must teach at Hogwarts, what subject?  Does this mean you don't have a place in London?" 

"I do teach at Hogwarts," He spoke through his flush pulling his face away from Chaz's hand and quickly darting around to see if anyone saw the display of affection, "I'm the new Charms professor, and I have a very big reputation to keep. I can't," Oh it broke his heart to even want to say what he could and couldn't do, "But if a parent saw this, you." He sighed clutching his coffee to him, and making eye contact with the door.

"I'm new, and I'm young. I'm sure they are skeptical as it is. I should just go. But," Nervously he bit his lip, "I would like to see your work. No I don't have a place to go to. I normally rent a flat, but I've been saving money staying at the castle. It's easier on everyone if I am there, but when school is out I will need somewhere to go. I'd like to have a nicer flat, but I feel so closed in with the city."

Chaz sat up straight and shifted around, completely horrified by what Gale was telling him.  "I'm I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, his blue eyes bright with worry and shame.  "I'd never thought of it like that.  I'm sorry.  I won't do it again."  He noticed the way Gale's eyes darted to the door and back again and the guilt hit home.  He'd never meant to compromise Gale's position at the school.  It hadn't occurred to him that Gale might lose his job if his sexuality was ever confirmed.  That was a surprise in itself because Chaz of all people understood how cruel people could be.   He'd had experience enough with his parents and even a few of his employers over the years.

He looked down at his lap and folded his hands together.  He changed the subject quickly and talked about architecture.  He was less likely to mess that one up. "There are ways to design a flat as an escape from the hustle of the city but that's not the only option.  Places outside the city can be found.  Generally it's just as easy to apparate from the country as it is to apparate from across town.  But those are things you'll have to look into before you decide.  So tell me, what's it like teaching at Hogwarts?  I attended Beauxbaton myself, so I've never actually seen Hogwarts."

"No, I...I didn't mean that. I mean here. I," Gale bit his lip again and blushed with a grin. He wanted to admit it, and out right scream it.

I want you to touch me. You and your beautiful eyes, and shy little smile.

"I didn't mean it like that, I just mean..." He laughed, and the sort that almost seemed childlike . But for Gale it was rare. He puffed a breath and tried again.

"Let's get out of here, and go somewhere private."