Originally written in 2013

The bed had long since cooled, though he had tossed the sheets back into place before he had tiptoed from the room. The upstairs hallway had been dark, a little light had fallen through the bathroom door, and there had been the irregular drip of water. He'd picked his way over the floorboards, the ones which creaked were committed to memory.

Downstairs the winter weather was still blowing out, spring was struggling to make headway. In the gale outside an owl hooted, attempting to hunt. Johann pulled his arms around him, cold, and fished a blanket from the back of the sofa up and over his shoulders. The fire spat into life in the grate, kindled by his wand, and he curled into the chair nearest to stare at it.

This armchair was Arc's favourite spot. It felt odd to be sat there, but also strangely comforting, as if he were there. He wanted to curl into a ball and lay his head on the arm, but short of a cunning charm or shortening his legs, it would just be awkward.

The warmth from the fire began to seep towards him and he extended a pale, long-fingered hand towards it, drinking in the temperature. The blanket still felt cold upon his skin, itchy, and his feet were like blocks of ice.

From beneath the blanket, Johann pulled a small, ever so familiar bottle. The light from the flames licked round the curve of the glass, picking out the indent for the label and the neck which was corked. The yellow glow danced and reflected in the glass, and for quite some time he sat and stared.

This would be the third night.

With an agitated sigh, Johann brought the bottle to rest on his forehead and the bridge of his nose. It had been some time now, enough time, for this to work. It was from an apothecary, two mouthfuls at most declared the bottle. It would take the almost five times that.

"Not for him, Johann." He muttered aloud, eyes screwed closed. "You promised him. He's worth the promise."

His eyes came open suddenly and breath shuddered from his lungs as if he'd held his breath for an extended period of time.
"This will be all it takes." He replied to himself. "You know it is. One night, one slip, you need this."

For a long moment he stared, bottom lip between his teeth, at the bottle.

"No." He told himself, but there was no conviction. Two nights he had feigned sleep, lying awake, listening to the house, the voices, his thoughts. They had come back. He didn't want to tell Arcturus, this was failing. He had to work it out without the healer finding out, he couldn't worry him. He hoped he hadn't noticed, somehow.

"I can't." He uttered, less of a whisper, more a whimper. The stopper withdrew from the bottle and he raised it to his lips.

The kneazle landed its weight on his arm claws out, and the bottle missed, falling from the wizard's grasp and landing with a thud of enchanted glass on the carpet the other side of the chair. Johann's eyes were like saucers, he hadn't realised Rustle was in the house, he had assumed he was hunting mice.

"Rustle!" He hissed, but his anguish was short-lived and his shoulders sank. He dropped the stopper from his other hand and reached out to the cat, forgiving of its well timed ascent into his lap.
"Why can't I sleep?" He murmured to the it, miserable. Normally he gave Arc's cat a glance but not much more, save from sharing his cheese. It had a very knowing look when he met its eyes.

"I miss him." He confessed, lowering his head to the back of the cat ever so gently, letting the fur brush his face. The comfort of the animal at that desperate moment had wrong-footed him entirely.

"You're a good cat." He murmured, attempting to remember where Arcturus tended to give it a scratch around the ears, hoping his less practiced attempts were satisfying all the same.




Johann woke hours later, still in the armchair, as Rustle alighted to greet his owner. He didn't remember when he had stopped sleepily stroking the cat's head and shoulders intermittently, staring at the fire, but somewhere along the line he had finally achieved slumber.

Arcturus looked as tired as Johann still felt after a long night shift. He would want to bathe, eat perhaps and then sleep, that routine was closure after a long night, and Johann respected it. Johann would have to do the opposite and go into the Ministry, with deep shadows beneath his eyes.

He gave a sleepy smile which didn't have its usual warmth and looked up at his lover. Stretching one leg wearily and then the other he dislodged the empty bottle which had fallen to the floor hours before with his bare foot.

"Good morning," He asked in a croaky, low voice, and he reached down to rescue the bottle, unable to meet the other man's eyes, looking to the cat instead, "I didn't, something… someone…  stopped me."

Stiffly, but in one sudden movement, he pulled himself to his feet from the armchair, and wrapped his arms around Arcturus, burying his face in the neck he enjoyed tracing kisses up until the air from the other man's mouth sighed with pleasure. "I'm glad you're home," He uttered, relieved, closing his eyes, "I've never missed you so much."

All he dearly wanted was to curl into bed beside the man he had become attached to and return to sleep. He didn't care that Arcturus smelled of strange things from brewing. He was home.