He took a long, much-needed drag and smiled softly at the thought of Feliks terrorising the house of Slytherin with gifts from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Why not, eh? They shouldn’t be encouraging him but the lad didn’t need encouragement; seemed all but ready to start trouble in the most innocent way.

Was that him, or Ira? Was it Johann? That seed of mischief cloaked in naivety?

            ”I’m sorry.”

Balfour realised he’d been looking down, at the cobbled path, and his gaze flicked up to join Johann’s as the other man leaned in. They met in a cloud of smoke, tasting of tobacco and tea. Never one for half-measures, he reached with his free hand to grab Joh’s collar and lick into the kiss with just enough hunger to let him know what he wanted - later, in the privacy of their quarters, away from other eyes and other thoughts.

“Mine,” his voice was barely audible in the hubbub of the Diagon throng as he pulled away, embarrassed by this possessiveness and quite unable to repress the affection underneath it.

Johann didn’t have to be sorry, not even  a little bit. And Balfour would forgive him almost anything, everything, anyway.  “I love you too.”