1710 hours


He had come straight from the Ministry, having left early on a Friday. Today was the end of a long week, which began with seeing Feliks off at Kings Cross and ended with a medley of catching up to do for Level 4's Nundu cub (not so much a cub anymore) program. Balfour was utterly knackered: from Christmas to New Year's, life had been one thing after another. Visiting family, visiting friends, checking in on the chaos caused by beast handlers losing magic out on the field.

When Mrs Lanningham told him his schedule was free for the rest of the day, he'd all but danced in celebration.

And now, stepping lightly down the main stairs into the entrance hall, Balfour did in fact have a bounce in his step. He was freshly showered and comfortable in a flannel dressing gown - a copy of the Evening Prophet in one hand, mug of tea in the other. It was just past five and his fiancé was due home soon, gods willing.

It was hard to tell with five. You never knew if someone was in urgent need of Johann's loquacious tongue. Odin help them, no diplomatic disasters appeared imminent in the newspaper at least. Balfour headed into the drawing room without looking up from the printed page, and set his mug down. Whiskey gave a bark; the German Shepherd was curled up in an armchair by the roaring fireplace.

All was peaceful. No children running around, no house elves appearing and disappearing, no nosy relatives inspecting the pantry. He dropped back on to the couch with a heavy and contented sigh... only to sit up straight at the sound of the manor doors squeaking open.

Now his peace felt complete in its entirety.

The first week back after a Christmas break always felt like a lifetime. Johann found it relatively easy to slip back into administrative routines, but as his feet alighted on the doorstep in Edinburgh, he felt both relief and a lift in his shoulders.

“Anyone home?” He called out, long fingers pressing the door closed behind him. With such a big house, it had been filled over Christmas and new year. A happy, but somewhat claustrophobic couple of weeks where friends and relatives still talked of Felik’s unexpected arrival and the couple’s wedding plans. Dear Merlin, everyone had advice and opinions on their wedding. It had been an exercise in self control each time someone had opened their mouth.

But now only the most important person was here to voice such opinions, and it felt as if they’d not seen each other properly in an age. One thing or another had kept interrupting or overshadowing. The curse of busy, competent professionals with extended families and friends. He shouldn’t really complain.

Johann neatly slipped his winter coat from his shoulders, and hung it back in place. Still dressed very much from the office, bag swinging from his right shoulder, he followed the indication of the response to his question and found Balfour.

“The weekend at last,” he announced, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss his fiancé, lifting one foot off the floor as he did. “Love you.” He uttered as they parted. His bag flopped to the floor at one end and in a few long strides, the couch cushions sank as Johann gratefully sprawled upon it.

“We survived,” he told Balfour, flopping his curly black head on his lover’s right shoulder, legs outstretched. He’d not even bothered to untie his shoes or take off his suit jacket. “Please tell me we haven’t agreed to be sociable this weekend?” Johann was a particularly sociable wizard, but he was also madly and deeply in love with Balfour, and he didn’t feel like sharing for at least a day.

            "Anyone home?"

"Aye!" he called out, lying back into the couch and watching the drawing room doors. His smile widened when Johann walked through in full work kit - the man was as gorgeous in a suit as he was out of it - and he hummed into the greeting kiss "Mm, love you too." It really had been too long since they were together, just the two of them, almost entirely alone in the manor. They hadn't even been living here last Christmas and yet now it was their hearth and home. "Please tell me we haven’t agreed to be sociable this weekend?" the dark haired wizard felt reassuringly solid against him.

Balfour laughed, adjusting their positions so that he could slip an arm around Johann's shoulder. He reached over with his other hand to unbutton his partner's collar in a distracted fashion.

"I've told anyone who would listen that I was going to be extremely busy seducing my fiancé all weekend," his fingers worked deftly at the knot in the tie, "and they had the common sense not to ask again." Balfour's voice was warm, and he undid another button before drawing away to reach for his tea. "Monday is going to be hellish, I want to spend every moment until then with you."

He sipped from the mug before offering it to Johann, who looked especially kissable in the firelight. Well, in every kind of light, but there was a flush in his pale skin from the heat and exertion of a day's work. "So what's it to be?" Balfour queried playfully, carding a hand through those sinful curls. "How would you care to be seduced, Mr Storm?"

He shifted instinctively to curl against his fiancé. They fitted together like easy jigsaw pieces without any effort. Johann sprawled a long arm over Balfour, and gently gripped a strong thigh.

“I’ve told anyone who would listen…” Johann obediently lifted his chin as Balfour unbuttoned his collar and tie. An empty house at long last. No parental or family duties, no visitors lingering. Just them, and the menagerie.

He accepted, realising how parched he was from talking for a living. Balfour’s tea was always black with sugar, but he was more than accustomed to it. How he envied Balfour for being home early enough to be showered and in his dressing gown.

Johann withdrew the mug, and licked his newly wet lips. The other hand reached back up to his tie draped through his collar, unknotted.
“Surely the question is how I would care to be seduced first?” He replied in a low voice, “if we’ve all weekend…sir.” Johann pressed the two ends of the tie into Balfour’s grasp in a suggestive manner. He leaned over to press their lips again, precariously balancing the mug.

“Aaahhshi…” Johann dribbled hot tea in his equally heated distraction. He hastily slipped free of his love, found the mug a space on the coffee table. “Sorry,” he apologised automatically, locating his wand to attend to his splattered suit. Way to go to ruin the moment.

“Maybe hold those thoughts until we’re away from hot liquids and you can get me out of this suit?” He suggested, mildly irritated at himself. “Remind me… remind me why Monday is hellish?”

He exclaimed in surprise, Johan abruptly torn away by the threat of scalding tea. His lips tingled with the promise of later kisses but for now he relaxed back into the couch and shook his head fondly at his vexed wizard. Gorgeous vexed wizard. Balfour could watch him do nothing but grumble over tea and papers all day, and he'd still have a stupid smile on his face.

            "Remind me… remind me why Monday is hellish?"

"Hm?" he blinked, recovering from said stupid smile. "Oh, right. It's a full moon and four is going mad preparing for it..." Bal trailed off as a frown crept across his face and he ran a hand through his hair, distracted. "There was that bother last month, you know."

Details were scarce but level two was involved and that meant dark wizards. The thought made him anxious; he had spent so much time turning a blind eye to Ira Almasy in past years, and it was impossible to do so any longer. People were getting hurt - people were dying, and poor Ballentyne had a mess on her hands.

"I was thinking - if you're alright with it," Balfour lifted his gaze to Johann, uncertain, "I might ask if I can volunteer to help, with the full moon patrol. They've not enough hands."

He wouldn't dare without asking his fiancé. They had nearly lost one another before, and werewolves were nothing to laugh at even for a dragon handler.

Full moons were never auspicious nights. Johann didn’t need to work on Level Four to have the moon impinge on life. His good friend Hannah Bombay struggled with legal and employment issues as a werewolf. He had quickly learned to be wise about when he dropped by. Hannah’s life had been turned upside down, and watching this happen to a friend he had become very quickly close to had changed Johann’s opinions on werewolves.

At one time he’d also shared an Uxbridge flat with another werewolf, Colin Downer. The arrangement had meant Johann kept even closer track of the moon phases. He’d quickly learned what was best to get in for a flatmate recovering from the monthly change, and how to only show a steak the grill. Colin’s abduction and subsequent experimentation to turn him to a direwolf still carried a lot of guilt for Johann, who had been away at the time. Every full moon he hoped that both of them were safely tucked into safe houses, only the tucking in was more barred behind thick metal doors.

The only reassurance was that Ira Almasy’s full moon werewolf fights had ended the night his father had been turned by Hannah. He still carried that guilt about them for so long. He should have done more when he tried to tip the aurors off.

“They’ve not enough hands.”

“Been bitten off, have they?” Johann replied, mouth racing off as ever. To say that the thought of Balfour being anywhere near danger of werewolves on full moon was a happy one would be tantamount to insanity. He met Balfour’s gaze as he said it, and then looked to one side, clear he regretted the grim humour.

“Surely there’s aurors, hitwizards and such who are prepared for such?” He asked, putting a logical argument forward over his internal panic of no, just no.

He looked back to Balfour, expression imploring sense in his fiancé. “Your job’s dangerous enough as it is.”

On the occasions Johann was home but Balfour wasn’t, his routes around the house included regular examination of the Spectre family clock, ensuring the littlest hand was nowhere near mortal peril.

His lips twitched into a smile, never tired of Johann's inappropriate witticisms. He loved the dark mind that harboured them and everything else besides. Balfour anticipated the hesitation - he was torn between wanting to help the capture unit and wanting to simply stay at home on the night of every full moon henceforth. Maybe before Johann and Feliks, it was easier to go bounding off on the latest call for arms. He had more to lose nowadays. The idea of leaving behind fiancé and son in this world...

            "Surely there’s aurors, hitwizards and such who are prepared for such? Your job’s dangerous enough as it is.”

Hard to argue with a face like that. Balfour sat up straighter on the couch, leaning forward on his knees as he met Johann's eyes.

"There are and it is," he licked his lips anxiously. "But they need more, and I'm qualified. I'm the right kind of animagus. I have more experience with beasts than volunteers from two, and I know Ballentyne's people." Some of the hunters were his friends and drinking buddies.

Logically and morally, he should. It would be fine, probably, there was no guarantee that his patrol would even run into trouble on a full moon - especially trouble to do with Cinaed Tawse. Purist bastard. He was himself a pureblood but the Spectres did not follow those teachings; or if they did, in sects, the clan as a whole was discouraged. When he married in the spring it would be a show to that effect, to share his entire life with a halfblood wizard and bring an old family into the progressive present.

"I won't if you don't want me to." Balfour looked at the dark haired man searchingly, earnest as he was wont to be. "Or we can wait to see how this full moon pans out, and I'll volunteer next month. You know how it is, darling. One word[1] from you."

1.	A reference to Myth, written for Johann.

However much he trusted Balfour (to the ends of the Earth and back) and however much he prided his skill and ability (above anyone else on Level Four), he would never be truly blasé about the risks or the worries. He nodded in agreement that yes they might need more and yes Balfour was qualified. Oh, and yes his wolf form of animagus was useful and yes he had more beast experience and knowledge of Ballantyne’s people.

“I won’t if you don’t want me to…. One word from you.”

Oh, such dangerous words.

Johann’s lips had formed a straight, thin, pressed line across his features. There were creases at the corner of his eyes, and his eyebrows had lowered. The lines gradually darkening his forehead as time and trial progressed, were starting to shadow the more he considered.

“You are your own person.” He told Balfour after a longer pause. His intense gaze did not leave his fiancé’s face, keen to know he understood. Of course Balfour understood, but this was no time for assumptions. “I trust you to weigh up the risks, the situation.” His tone was heavier than his usual, the grimmer sort reminiscent of the conversations of Ira the past year. “I would never ask you to put your life on hold.”

The but hung in the air as long as their gaze remained. He deflected.

“Not just me to think of these days, darling.” He glanced away, nose prickling. Those blackest thoughts in the darkest hours of a time Balfour did not come home. Love, for all its wonders, brought forth lenses to examine one’s mortality all the clearer.

             "I would never ask you to put your life on hold...Not just me to think of these days, darling."

He was doing that thing again - being careful with words. Sometimes they were not so careful, either of them, toying with macabre humour and sinful teasing and wild declarations of affection. Balfour leaned against the back of the couch and reached a hand out to play with one of Johann's long, dark curls. Oh, he understood what the other wizard was trying to say. This decision was his own to make in a professional sense but there was more to consider on a personal level. On their level.

"You are my life," he asserted in a soft voice. "You and Feliks come first, always. There is no god and no country if I don't have my Johann." Balfour smiled dryly at this allusion to notions of duty or honour; those obligations were natural and real but they were not entities.

Every evening, he did not go to bed next to a concept. Did not rise in the mornings to kiss one, or hold one close to his chest on sultry Sunday afternoons. You could not dine on an idea or make love to it. "I'll wait," Bal's hand dropped after a pause. "Next month, maybe. Wouldn't want to worry Feliks anyway, he wouldn't forgive me if something terrible happened."

Would Johann forgive him? He didn't want to find out. Balfour's head dropped back and he rubbed his face tiredly.

"We should just forget the Ministry this weekend," he groaned. "Pretend it doesn't even exist."

“You are my life.”

Surely his heart had melted a hundred times over at such words from Balfour? He hoped it would never stop, though he would have to steel it sometimes when his fiancé faced daily dangers. Becoming parents had not helped that at all, but he had always vowed never to become complacent about such risks.

He reached out to touch Balfour as his lover spoke soft words of reassurance. Then nearly the words Joh had wanted to hear, but not quite. Wait. That it was not off the table altogether, but he might be afforded some more time to get used to Balfour’s wish to put himself out there at full moon.

“… He wouldn’t forgive me if something terrible happened.”

“You would be in deepest trouble.” Johann agreed, tilting his head.

“We should just forget the Ministry this weekend, pretend it doesn’t even exist.”

“Oh, can we?” Johann echoed, keen to move on from that difficult conversation. “I know we’ve a hundred and two things to do before we get married but I feel entirely antisocial, apart from towards you of course.” He settled back onto the sofa, into Balfour’s embrace, as habitual and comfortable as a favourite pair of shoes. He inhaled the clean scents of a freshly bathed body against the familiar dusty scent of the London office on his own clothes. “Or if not antisocial, call me… selfish.” He gestured gently with his hands and exhaled deeply, closing his eyes.

“It’s not meant to rain,” he recalled, “we could take the dogs on that long walk we kept talking about.” He opened his eyes and slipped a hand beneath the neck of Balfour’s dressing gown to poke him affectionately in the ribs. “And no cheating from wolf you this time…”

Before they got married.

The mention of their impending marriage was enough to shove all thoughts of the Ministry right off the ledge of his mind and his arms came around Johann, yielding and enfolding all at once. Oh, he could be selfish too. He could have day upon day (night upon night) full of nothing but this, until his cup ran over with love and pleasure and restfulness.

           “It’s not meant to rain...could take the dogs on that long walk....And no cheating from wolf you this time…”

"Oi!" Balfour exclaimed at the poke, reaching into his robe to clasp his hand over Johann's. "All's fair in love and war, remember?" he bowed his head to kiss the other man's mouth lightly and breathe in the scents of the day, the underlying musk and sweat beneath level five's parchments. It was dark now and there was nothing else to do tonight.

No relatives to entertain, to bid farewell on the terrace. No Feliks to put to bed, no Balthair to chat with about a tumbler of whiskey. The dogs fed, the cats satisfied.

He was going to need another shower.