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Continues from That Night Among the Woods

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As he slipped away from the group, he put a cautious hand to his headpiece, checking it was still square, and drew his feathery cloak around him a little more to keep out the breeze. He had a thought that he was leaving a feathery trail around the estate as he went. The voices were being carried away from him as he glanced back at the crowd of figures, just about able to make out Angus McBoid's figure above most of the heads. He seemed a nice enough chap.

The edge of the forest loomed up above him, and the notes of the instruments ebbed and waned at the distance. Away from the bonfire, he blinked and tried to adjust his eyes to the light. There were many shadows but he couldn't tell if it was just the firelight playing tricks.
"Balfour?" He called cautiously, his accent recognisable for the way he said it in comparison to the family, however much he had quietly mimicked them under his breath during the day whenever it was mentioned.

Seeing a shadow up ahead, he ventured a little into the trees, wondering if he should draw his wand, only it was in a not all that easy-to-reach place inside the costume.
"Balfour?" He called again, a little more apprehensive, looking about himself as the trees creaked and groaned around and above him.

He didn't tell anyone where he was going.

Balfour had departed from the ceilidh by the bonfire, entrusting Margo to the far more capable rhythms of other Spectre men as he left the safety of bonfire light. The flames had risen into the night, and although they threw a great sense of warmth and homeliness on to the estate - its stone exterior, its wild gardens - it did not extend towards the surrounding woods.

Here, the twisted trunks of juniper trees danced in motionless sway with towering pines or birch and sapling Rowans. Silhouetted perennials in the dark of their night, where shadows only grew thicker with the dense foliage and the unevenness of the the forest floor underfoot. Balfour was a a wolf.

Changed as such, the wizard was an immense creature - never suited to urban transformation but effortlessly at home in the Scottish wilderness. His russet coat fell into shadow and moonlight, the arched curvature of spine and shoulder blades rising or falling in time to his movement through the undergrowth. If he had told anyone about this, they would have stopped him. It seemed a mean trick to surprise a lover whose most recent experience with the canid species was deeply unpleasant.

But if he was ever going to do this, the sooner was better. And he was curious.

"Balfour?" Johann's voice was richer in his ears, implication of fear stirring between the deep consonants, causing Balfour to blink slowly in affection. He could see his quarry between the trees: a feathered figure in a clearing, almost clear as day in the eyes of a nocturnal creature.. "Balfour?" again and this time the wolf dropped low into the shrubbery as he crept forward.

Quietly as he could, forest sounds disguising the physical awkwardness of having not transformed in many weeks now.

In a swift and agile bound, Balfour leapt at his companion - emerging from the dark with intentional menace as his paws forced Johann down to the earth and pinned him there. The growl in the wolf's throat rose thunderously for an instant before being dropped altogether. He lowered his pointed snout and licked the pale face beneath him affectionally.  In place of the guttural anger there was a coughing, raspy noise.

A beastly noise, unclear, though it became better in clarity as the great wolf form began to collapse into itself: gleaming fur wilting to the shimmering scales of a dragon's coat, and a man's broad shoulders arched possessively over the other wizard. Balfour was laughing - he'd hidden his face in Johann's neck, unable to repress the amusement.

There was that very strange prickle one got when one was watched. It began right in the hairline and raced down the feathery nerves of the neck to the shoulders like a drop of ice water. For a moment, he paused, weight on his right foot as he went to pick up his left to move forward when it came. Something told him he was not alone. There was the feeling of another presence. He hoped to Merlin it was Balfour and these woods were not like the ones at Hogwarts. There he had been warned ahead of the Tournament, that there were all manner of weird and unfriendly beasts. Balfour had elaborated on a couple one sleepy night. Johann's head resting against his chest, fingertips resting gently over that great scar across Balfour's torso, content to immerse in listening to his lover's voice while entwined.

But now here, in the woods, on his own something was watching him, and he couldn't see it. The trees rippled and rushed above him, autumn winds tugging and cracking branches that groaned and popped. Crap, where was his wand…

Sometimes when you're so scared, you try to scream, your vocal chords seem vanish from your throat. Air trapped in your lungs can't force itself out at such a speed that noise can be heard, and your mouth hangs open in silent scream while every inch of you roars with panic. As Johann caught sight of the watcher, his attempt to yell began exactly that. His jaw fell open without sound issuing, and his hands went from his costume to an attempt to turn and run, only his feet were not co-ordinated enough with the feathery coat to escape quick enough.

Paws thundered towards him, great eyes unblinking upon him, and his heart thudded so hard it felt his ribs might break. Silver cages, blood, the roar of a crowd, rats…

The primeval, underlying reflexes of self-preservation without conscious thought process burst through and with it, an unholy scream that was anything but manly. A wail of almost childish proportions, a petrified scream, ripped through the air as he brought both arms up crossed over his face in defence as the weight hit him.

He hit the ground heavily in the clearing, the breath knocked out of him, scream silenced almost as quickly as it had begun. The heavy paws splayed to stand on his upper arms, as he went to struggle believing those jaws would come down on him with that hot breath at any moment now it had caught him.

The deafening growl brought forth another yelp, rather more pitiful for the lack of air he'd managed to draw back into his lungs as his head spun and a snout closed in. Johann screwed shut his eyes, unable to move but to turn his face away and hope it was quick.

A tongue scraped up his face from his chin. His eyes came open in surprise. The wolf was making some odd noise, and then the weight seemed to lift. He turned his head back, eyes wide as the hair faded. He panted in fear beneath only replaced by relief as he recognised Balfour's laugh from beneath his right ear, where a rather less hairy and softer face had pressed itself.

"You bastard." Johann gasped, unable to stop himself from shaking even though the danger had passed and he could clearly see he was only being pinned down by his lover. "You absolute ... Merlin I thought I was going to-." He stopped wrestled his left arm out from under Balfour's right hand and wiped his eyes, hand shaking too. The words that went out of his lips following were even less rude, but the way in which they were delivered only fuelled the laughter. Bloody cheek of him to keep that trick from him for so long! He was a ruddy animagus!!

"You utter cock Balfour Spectre!" None of his exclamations were out of real malice or anger, but more out feeling stupid for not realising and relief for being safe. The fright was subsiding quickly, his breathing began to steady. "Come here," His hand went to Balfour's face, to find his lips, seeking reassurance. "You owe me for scaring the life out of me."

Nothing, absolutely nothing short of being obliviated, could wrench away the memory of Johann's high-pitched scream from his mind. "You bastard."

Balfour only laughed harder, his entire frame shaking with mirth while he adjusted to the minor peculiarities of transformation - the darkness of the wood amplified by having mere human eyes. The heady perfume of their mingling scents persisted, however, and he breathed it in with unrepentant appetite. A remnant of the wolfish growl stirred in his throat. Beneath the sweat and cologne he caught hints of earth and liquors. Ash, decaying leaves, dried bark. That sharp fragrance of clammy, cooling fear. A thrill of achievement.

The accusations didn't make a dent in the vague euphoria but he willingly lifted his chin to allow the spindly fingers to trace his lips. Balfour kissed them unthinkingly, gaiety lost to sudden silence, and he realised that his own breathing was in a panting, shallow disorder. Out of breath.

He kissed the fingertips again, lingering to lick them gently, and then pushed down on Johann to press their lips together. The canopy overhead rustled as an autumn breeze swept through the wood and a speckling of starlight fell fleetingly over them. Balfour didn't move, kept himself pressed against his partner until their breaths were matched and even. A hushed question came to him in the intimate peace.

... had he said anything even?

Pulling back, hand going to intertwine with Johann's, Balfour felt the slightest tinge of self-consciousness . They were at a party.

"Fuck. Sorry." He murmured meaningfully - wanting to apologise more thoroughly for the callous trick and finding that the apology was lost in a personal whirlwind of other, less gentle emotions. "I am. And I do owe you -" the wizard managed to say while he tried to sit up, tugging Johann along with him so that he was sat astride against the other man's hips.  "- anything you want."

It wasn't an empty promise, though it was said with heated carelessness. Balfour slithered his spare arm on to Johann's shoulder and across the back of that slender neck, which he held firmly to convey some notion of genuine feeling. "I only wanted to surprise you." A success, he thought, but that was largely dependent on how much Johann didn't mind wolves.

Especially mischievous ones that got carried away in dark corners of the wilderness.

His berating words fell away as Balfour stopped laughing quite so much and looked at him properly. He hadn't realised, but his ears had stopped hearing the lilting highland dances from beyond the trees, and could only hear their breathing and the rush of leaves around them. It was the first time since getting there that they had both been truly alone, and he hadn't realised until that moment how frustrating that had been.

Balfour's weight on him like this was both a reassurance and a sudden focus on another human being he felt increasingly lost without interacting with, that he craved attention from. The warmth between them was welcome as he lay on the cold earth, not at that moment considering how his costume would survive. The hawk headdress had become a casualty already, resting just above where his head had landed, still caught on some of his black curls.

His hands lifted, fingers sliding past Balfour's ears into his hair amongst his costume as they kissed, eyes closing. The impeccable silence in his head was liberating - a continual babble from either real people or within all day had been quite the struggle to concentrate on direction and demand from the Spectres who he insisted on assisting at every turn. On best behaviour.

He was quite content to stay like this until his limbs grew too cold to feel his toes. Although the lips lifted from his, the weight on his torso did not, and as the seconds passed without a word from either, he caught his breath. Eventually, Balfour moved, and the strange spell was broken.

Shoulders left the ground, reminding him they smarted a little for the impact a few minutes before. Nothing serious, but he pulled back against Balfour's hand in his to do so, their upper bodies suddenly closer together,  again, Johann's head tilted back to look up.
"… I do owe you… anything you want." Balfour promised him after apologising. Johann rolled his shoulders just before his lover's arm encircled them, and he rested his hands on Balfour's hips, more than used to them sat this way, only without costumes.

"I only wanted to surprise you."
"Well you certainly did that." Johann admitted with a blush and a laugh. "Fuck me, I didn't see that coming. Thought I was dinner - well - I suppose I am." He smiled warmly and chuckled happily. His hands applied a little downward pressure to Balfour in gesture that he was happy to take his weight rather than force him to crouch.

"If I choose anything I want," Johann added in a dark voice as Balfour's weight shifted, "People would think our divining stones had already gone missing." He stretched his back up, chin raised to reach Balfour's lips with his own, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth as he retreated.
"But my mother has asked me to introduce…" he feigned that this was the unfortunate reason, winding the other wizard up ever so slightly - and as ever, being a bit of a tease.

"You kept that one quiet though, didn't you?" He wrapped his arms around Balfour's waist, negotiating scales as best he could. "How long have you been able to turn yourself? I am highly impressed, darling." This latest revelation was just as exciting as the Haunting Hour had been.

Things like that tended to happen in threes. He hoped the third one that Balfour sprang on him didn't end up with his premature death from the shock of it.

Balfour rubbed his thumb in slow, rhythmic circles at the nape of Johann's neck as he hummed pleasurably in agreement with what Johann might like as an apology - if not for circumstances. He felt a sharp, lusty jolt go right through him at the bite of the lower lip, and parted his thighs slightly to shift his weight against the other wizard. It was so tempting to get carried away in this attitude. Even if they could work past the cumbersome layers of leather or scales.

Not wanting to be outdone, Balfour tended closer to Johann with an absolute inability to keep his supposedly terpsichorean hips from writhing invitingly. Simply because he could.

"I don't get much use out of it in the city," his hand slid into the matted curls that had left behind the costume'd crown. "But I've been of the wolfish nature since I was nineteen or twenty. It's gotten me out of a fair bit of trouble. And into as well." He clutched at Johann's hair lightly and tried not to show how incredibly charmed he felt to have impressed this strange creature beneath him.

This strange and beautiful creature, so pale against the inky woods.

It was nearly enough to make one forget about the feast beyond the trees - the flames, the gentle maelstrom of festive celebration and wildly jocular music. If they were younger or if the night was warmer, maybe. He tried to pull himself into focus before lower bodily functions could make a stiff proposition.

"I'm out of practice, I'm afraid. Not as many opportunities to run free in the countryside while I'm locked in an office..." Balfour trailed off distractedly, breathing in the crisp night air as he wrestled with the temptation of the present and the nostalgia that came with being on the estate tonight.

Each Samhain was a night outside of other nights, harking to some distant past or memory; not genuinely a part of the linear continuum in which they lived. As he drifted internally, he slid his other hand between the folds of the downy costume. Feeling his way to the collar opening, where he could warm his cold fingers against the base of Johann's neck.

"Thank you." Balfour heard himself say in a firm and appreciative voice. "For... being so brave about all this. Not just this. The clan, I mean. It isn't easy coming all the way here and meeting new people. Without me around, even. You've been splendid." He smiled in a dark, humorous way. "I keep trying to scare you off."

It was troubling to think of it that way. Frightening the unworthy. Johann was exceptional. He kissed his forehead, chaste in spite of the pressure between their hips.

It was most difficult indeed to remember that they had to go back and be presentable, especially when Balfour accepted he could settle his weight, but combined it by doing that. Johann's eyes blinked slowly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and released with a noisy breath easily recognisable as both desire and frustration. It was the sort when Balfour said not yet, and he had to be obedient.

Instead, he focused intently on what Balfour was saying, enjoying the caress through his curls. The damned hawk hadn't lasted long, despite the charms. Wolf attack was not on the list of potential reasons to unseat.
"…and into as well."
"I'm sure." Johann murmured in response, not needing to raise his voice despite the creaking of the trees, for the little distance between their faces.

"Then we'll make some." Johann replied in Balfour's distraction from the end of his explanation. "You didn't look out of practice." He squeezed Balfour's waist gently with his hands over the scales, head still tilted back so as to watch his lover with adoration.

The touch of Balfour's cold fingers to his warm neck beneath the feathers triggered a sharp intake of breath, but he did not move to stop him. It was odd to feel warm in comparison to Balfour, so often it was the other way. His backside was cooling beneath them both, but that was easily walked off, once the mud had been knocked off.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the kiss on his head, a smile forming the foundation of an expression conveying the affection he felt only for Balfour. He did not look at anyone else in quite the same way - it wasn't a boyish smile he gave when laughing with friends, or the fond one he gave his mother, but something deeper, more at peace, that he gave Balfour, and as yet he was unaware of the change in himself.

"You'll have to try a lot harder, Mr Spectre," Johann chuckled, drawing his arms around Balfour's waist to deliver a gentle embrace instead of the weight on his hips, "For such a coward, I forget how to be scared when you have me in your gaze." He shrugged and pressed his cheek to Balfour's chest, holding him a moment. "It is I who should thank you for being there for me these past months." He let that settle just a moment, before adding cheekily, "Even if you did just try to kill me…!"

He was starting to wonder how many minutes had drifted by since they had come into the woods. Not long, Balfour suspected, but it felt like a short eternity. Even if no measure of time spent in this attitude could possibly be enough. The darkness might keep them here until light. Rejoining the hubbub of merrymaking after their quiet reprieve was going to be disorienting, later.

Mr Spectre made him laugh quietly to himself - he accepts this from Johann when he would correct anyone else, feeling too old for it. On the other wizard's bitten red lips the title was softer and more playful. He caught his breath as they drew closer, arm resting around Johann's shoulders instinctively. Balfour nuzzled the crown of dark curls, closed his eyes cozily. "It is I who should thank you for being there for me these past months." He smiled softly at the collective memories.

So many, for so short a tryst. That had all happened without him meaning to. One moment he was dancing in an eddy of masks and winding lights, the next he was curled up in bed next to a man whose skin tasted so good he kept having to come back to it. And now he was straddling him beneath the bare, autumn canopies of childhood.

"It has been nothing short of a pleasure, Mr Storm." Balfour murmured with gentle feeling and traced his fingers higher along Johann's neck. A calmness was settling in, akin to those moments before sleep when his mind would fall into dreamless rest and the tensions leave his shoulders.

But that would be too easy. "Even if you did just try to kill me…!" his partner joked, clearly a jab at his sinister sense of humour. The jest mislaid itself in Balfour's consciousness however, coinciding with the unfortunate placement of his hand on Johann's slender throat[1]. He froze, stand-offish as he opened his eyes, and hoped that Johann had not heard his stammering heartbeat.

If he had been feeling frisky before the feeling was now quickly abandoned. Balfour forced the memory away and drew his arm even tighter around Johann's shoulders. There was nothing to protect him from, here on the wilderness of the Spectre estate, and yet he couldn't help the tendency.

"Never." He said out loud without meaning to sound so terse, speaking into the curls. "I would never hurt you. Could never hurt you." Balfour did not think he had it inside himself to do that. Granted, they were both bold about the spectrum of pain and pleasure afflicted on one another in intimate moments - but it was obvious from the tone of his voice that he meant a very different brand of a hurt.

The sort that scarred inside and out, that he was sure they both already carried on themselves from past lacerations. He didn't want to be that person. Not to Johann. "Alright? You can hold me to that." Balfour promised, adamant.

1.	Our Queen of Peace, pensieve.

The joking comment seemed to land oddly with Balfour. Johann felt the change more than observed it with them being so close together in the dark. Balfour's arm around him suddenly a little tighter, less of the flirting and laughter of earlier and more serious, sobered. It was how Balfour had held him when he'd been a state the night after giving evidence at his father's trial in September. Reminiscent of the dark moments in the hours after returning to him in October after his father's death when he'd cried, exhausted. Protective, safe. A sudden contrast to their laughter over his girly scream.

With it, Johann's smile fell away, a little confused, more concerned that he had made a poor joke and offended his lover. Balfour's words were sincere and not spoken lightly. Johann had never doubted them, but hearing them now, like this, made him appreciate the reassurances.
"… You can hold me to that."
"I do." Johann replied, without hesitation,  and matched the strength of his hold, closing his eyes. "I didn't mean to imply it like that, forgive me. Of course you didn't mean to, silly, flippant joke Balfour. I'm sorry." One hand patted between Balfour's shoulder blades as best it could with the scaly costume. The wings got in the way.

"Come here." He uttered quietly, kissing what he could find of Balfour's face and then finally his cool lips, in apology, reassurance and care. He really did mean it when he was grateful for Balfour's presence through the last few months. He had been able to provide comfort and affection that had made his heart less heavy, and the confidence to carry on, especially at the Ministry.
"My savvy, intelligent, remarkable, wizard. My Balfour." He murmured gently. "You worry yourself too much." He inclined forward to place a shorter, simpler kiss on Balfour's lips and dropped his arms down. "Much a I would like to say I could sit here forever," he explained in a low voice, "I think I lost my left arse cheek about five minutes ago."  Johann cringed, blushing a little.

He wanted to say that Johann didn't need to apologise for the joke - but he let it slip, unwilling to linger on the subject.

It felt too good not to speak at all, to listen to the soothing cadence of the other wizard's voice and feel his lips on his cheek. His lips. The tight worry in Balfour's chest was far too easily mollified. He didn't try to hide his grin - glimpse of white teeth in the shadow - at being called his Balfour. The string of compliments that preceded it was vague praise compared to that. To be something significant to someone. To Johann, particularly. His Johann. He wasn't brave enough to say it out loud.

The grin opened into a light laugh, nudging hands further below the waist to give him a quick squeeze.

"I'll have to warm it up for you later." Balfour replied and woke his legs to give standing up a try - it took a moment, head dizzy with the scents still lingering from wolf form. "Here. Can't risk being told off for keeping you to myself anyway-" he offered his hands, grabbing Johann by the forearms to pull him off the forest floor. "- or for being a bad host." The winds were picking up, they cut past twisting trunks to warn them of what was bound to be a cold and frosty dawn.

Balfour glanced around the clearing before he found what he was looking for: the fallen crown and its massacred feathers, some strewn across fallen leaves. He picked it up, handing it to his partner. There in the shadowy woods, a kindly wyrm returning an eagle's head to itself.

He looked over Johann's shoulder, through the trees towards the weak light of the bonfire in the distance beyond. "Mr Storm." Balfour readjusted his scaly headdress and offered his arm to hold with mock formality. "Shall we?"