“A good marriage is like a casserole: only those responsible for it really know what goes in it.”



The snap of magic above their heads sent the dogs rushing ahead. Their tails wagged and their paws splattered mud as they pursued. Johann let his arm relax again, ebony wand in hand, and watched the ball soar through the cool February air.

It was early Sunday morning, earlier than they might have wanted to rise, but their weekends were steadily filling up with appointments for fittings, flowers and a hundred and two additional things to the original agreed wedding plan. Well-meaning family and friends would drop by or send memos with ’have you considered…’ and ’what about…’.

The best way to make decisions unhindered by those multitude of voices was to get out of the manor and take the dogs for a long walk. For the dogs did not voice opinions on weddings. Fresh air, hills, wellington boots and walking miles helped with the decision making.

“So the flowers are settled,” Johann picked up the conversation, slipping his wand away. He extended his pocket self-inking quill to Balfour to tick it off in the little notebook. Had until a moment ago, clasped both, checking things off, but had handed it over to Balfour so he could take his turn with the ball.

“Was it hymns next or just music?” He asked, dropping back to peer over his fiancé’s shoulder at the list he’d made, as if he hadn’t already memorised it.

Flowers. He liked flowers, he did, and deeply enjoyed stopping at Floriblunders in Diagon to pick up bouquets for Johann or simply for the study. Wedding flowers were an entirely different realm and Balfour understood Johann's wisdom in their coming all the way out here to discuss these things. Every Spectre and honourary Spectre had an opinion about their opinions (and others had opinions about those opinions).

But the opinion that mattered most, barring Feliks', was theirs. They had to get these things out of the way.

            “Was it hymns next or just music?”

"Are we still doing hymns?" Balfour sighed, twirling the quill in his fingers as he narrowed his gaze at the never-ending list. "Whose idea was that? Elopement is looking tempting right this moment."

It was a repeat offender, that joke, and he wished he could stop saying it at every little aggravation. Yet here they were. He glanced up to watch the dogs rushing back up the slope and smiled to himself. The air was biting cold, though not as much as it would have been earlier in the month. He felt as home here as he did in the manor.

"Let's do music instead," he tapped the notepad with a pleading raise of his eyebrows in Joh's direction, "and reconsider hymns later?"

“I’m not bothered about hymns,” Johann agreed, “if we’re singing it’ll be something more upbeat and merry at the celebration, rather than the ceremony.” There was a bark and a rumble of paws as the ball was snapped up by their furry walking companions. They were tumbling over each other, panting, tails wagging, trying to trip each other up as they hurried back to their masters. Johann lifted his wand again, “I put it on the list as I wasn’t sure if it was tradition for the Spectres. Drop. Drop.”

The ball bounced the short distance to the ground, covered in dog slobber and mud. Johann was so very pleased to have a wand each time the ball was presented such. He surveyed the landscape around them, deciding on an angle. Three dogs circled them, reading his shoulders and gaze, trying to predict the direction. With a swift stroke of ebony in February air, the ball shot off behind them, and Johann pivoted to walk two paces in reverse as the dogs sped off.

“Music.” He agreed with Balfour with a kind smile. “Band of bairns or something on a record?” He asked, looping his left arm back in with Balfour’s again. The ball had gone down a slope into some heather, so it would be an extra few seconds before the dogs found it and dashed back. “We’ve got the ceremony and the consideration of first dance under music. Well, if we want that.” He gestured a little shrug with his right hand, wand in coat pocket. “Do you feel like being piped in and out, Mr Spectre?”

The ball flew into the air, in heavy pursuit.

With hymns out of the way (and look how easy it was? without a relative trying to butt in?) he felt a little lighter in his heart and turned to meet his fiancé's gaze, delighted by the next few questions. It rarely mattered what the music was, or at least it didn't matter as much as the dancing did. Sometimes he could dance with Johann even if there wasn't music at all; in the drawing room, humming, by crackling fire and distant rainfall.

             “Do you feel like being piped in and out, Mr Spectre?”

"Oh, repeatedly, but weren't we talking about music?" he grinned, squeezing Joh's arm affectionately. "Bairns would be quite charming," the Scotsman continued, glancing down at the list to make notes as he spoke. "Bagpipes or bust, and of course we're doing first dance, darling."

Balfour had wondered, when the planning was beginning to get out of hand, if he would still feel as strongly on this point - and he did. Apparently no amount of trivialities and details and flower bills was going to get in the way of him wanting to dance with the love of his life in front of every person they knew.

He wanted to show off a little, guiltily. The dogs came into view again, racing up towards them with that poor slobbered ball. "What should we first dance to then," Bal asked lightly, "as Mr and Mr Spectre?"

“Tsh!” Johann grinned in amusement at the naughty suggestion.

“Bagpipes or bust, and of course we’re doing the first dance, darling.”
“Bagipies then.” Johann pointed a long finger to advise Balfour to tick beside that option in the neat list. He’d deal with who the piper was a bit later, perhaps the family could actually source one of those for them.

Johann was still peering down at the list, wrapped up in logistics and checks when Balfour posed a rather more important decision that could only be made as a couple.

“What should we first dance to then, as Mr and Mr Spectre?”

He stood straight again, stared out before them in thought.
“Well, there’s a few possibilities,” he began, “we could go full circle and dance to whatever it was when we first kissed, but that’d be something more upbeat and quite probably less … smushy.” There was a new English slang adjective he’d learned in the last few months. To do with wet fruit and the consistency, but also applied to similar consistency in romantic feelings.

“We could choose something classic we’ve danced to in private, off the record player.” He gestured with palm upwards, “otherwise we’re on the search for something with lyrics that sums us up.” His lips made an indecisive movement. “Or if you want to be piped again,” he added in a more suggestive tone, “we pick a traditional ballad.”

Johann looked to Balfour with a slightly sorry expression, the dogs finally rejoining them. “I get the feeling you expected my memory to have retained a catalogue of songs from particular moments…” He didn’t like to be a disappointment to Balfour, but at least he could be honest. He’d have to think a bit harder.

Bagpipes were ticked off the list while Johann mused about their different options - they had many so he couldn't blame the other wizard for indecision. The two wizards danced constantly, having begun their relationship as they meant to continue. Balfour glanced up and slipped the notepad into the pocket of his waxed coat, to draw his wand as the dogs dropped the soiled ball on the grassy earth before them.

            “I get the feeling you expected...songs from particular moments…”

A quick scouring charm cleared the ball of its slobber and dirt. He let go of Johann, bending over to pick it up. "Hm? Oh, no, I was just wondering if you had a preference." Bal took a step back and threw the ball as far as he could, grinning at the satisfaction of the act. "It can be anything."

He looked back at his fiancé and slid an arm around his waist, expression softening. Johann was wonderfully methodical; it was a contrast against his own meandering style sometimes.

"What was it we were dancing to the other night?" Balfour's eyes rose to cloudy skies, thoughtful, and he started humming. "Unforgettable..." the Scotsman crooned in his imperfect voice as he recalled the scene, the record player going round and round as they held one another close in otherwise perfect silence, "... in every way..." he trailed off with an affectionate laugh.

Yes, that's what Johann was. Unforgettable. "I could dance to anything if it's with you, my love," he looked back to the view, the trees gathered at the foot of the hill. "It's only one more dance in a lifetime of dancing."

“That may be,” Johann agreed, “but it’s a dance, us alone in front of what feels like half the wizarding world…”

His lips pressed into a straight line, looking grim despite his love’s arm around his waist. Their first dance (first as in, first since their marriage was official, definitely not first in any other sense) was meant to be an entirely joyous moment. The pair had danced at more than a couple of weddings since getting together, but for a wizard so sure of his professional work and his love for Balfour Spectre, the thought of dancing in front of people as a spectacle was stomach-churning. Enough to reinforce that recurring wish they’d just eloped abroad. Ignan and Miranda had the right idea…

“Nothing against you, obviously,” Johann hastened to add, “but I’ve convinced myself I’ll have two left feet…” The corner of his mouth turned down and his eyes raised despairingly. “Gah - I’m not you - I’m not able to don leather trousers and croon Moon River in front of everyone on Five.” He looked to Balfour fondly, recalling the deeply romantic gesture of being kidnapped.

“Oh, there’s a thought,” Johann snapped out of his worries about stage-fright at once, straightening his back, “start a list, there’s space bottom right of the next page, Unforgettable, Moon River… Uh… what’s that other one. Goes but I can’t help… falling in love with you…” He didn’t sing it, but rather recited the lyrics like a poem with the same rhythm. “Moon River’s a waltz isn’t it?” He could waltz!

Yes, they’d waltz, and that way he could forget there was an army of eyes on them. His eyes would only be on Balfour, of course.

            “Gah - I’m not you - I’m not able to don leather trousers and croon Moon River in front of everyone on Five.”

Balfour's eyes, now on his partner's countenance, could not pull away. The seriousness with which Johann was taking this dance simply endeared him further to the Scotsman - as much as he wanted to think of their wedding as simply another day in a series of days, he knew it was incomparably significant. For two wizards to marry before an assembly of loved ones, to promise themselves to each other as well as to the clan and to their joined families... that was no little thing.

They weren't casual dalliances in false, straight marriages. They weren't dirty little secrets in pureblood grapevines. They were two men, openly in love.

"It is a waltz, yes, I think," Bal laughed as he relinquished his hold to obey the command and reach for the notepad in his pocket once more. "Let's go with Moon River. It falls into our plans, doesn't it?"

He scribbled down the song title with a little flourish before glancing up at Johann with a smile that reached well into his eyes. "Two drifters, off to see the world...?" Balfour sang and hummed the rest of the line. Even when he had kidnapped the other wizard for Joh's birthday getaway, his singing had been perfectly imperfect.

And although neither of them would be the ones singing the song for their first dance, he had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't be able to help himself when the time came. That he would hum it anyway and the only one close enough to hear his wobbly notes would be his husband.

"So that's first song done. Ought we hire a band for it, you think, or break out the record player?"

“… it falls into our plans, doesn’t it?”

“Mm!” Johann agreed with positive murmur, chin lifted. Now their trip abroad after the wedding, their intended American road trip and whatever happened, that was all adventure and less stage-fright.

“Two drifters, off to see the world…?”
  “… off to see the world. Yes. Quite!”

He briefly sang along, a fraction behind the love of his life, smile continuing. After so much time with family asking questions and helping make plans he was quite ready to be alone and far away with just Balfour. Maybe they’d -

Balfour had asked him a question. Wedding planning. Focus!

“Well, on the one hand,” Johann turned over his left as if carrying an aforementioned record on the palm, “record players are cheap and the worst is they’ll scratch a record, not have a request or lack the ability to form a playlist without magical intervention. On the other hand, a band has depth, versatility and grandeur… though is a little more expensive. Was there a group you had in mind? Tell me there’s a Spectre with a band out there who owes us a favour… or who can owe us one if we play our cards right!”

Nothing sweeter than lopping off a few numbers by reminding someone at the optimum point of negotiation that you’d already done something for them. Though Johann had never walked into a muggle car dealership, he knew enough of tipping points to know why they might offer a cup of coffee.

“If we don’t trust them with our dance, we’ll just use our favourite recording.” He shrugged as if the decision were nothing. “Is that all the music..?”

He listened to his fiancé ruminate on their options as the three dogs came racing back up the slope of the hill, Sangre dropping the sopping wet ball at their boots. Money was no object for the wedding - it was not so grand as the most aristocratic of pureblood weddings (largely because it would not be so officious nor dull) and Balfour couldn't object to anything being a bit more expensive if it made their celebrations all the more wonderful. It's not everyday that people got married.

            "If we don’t trust them with our dance...." Johann continued while the Scotsman reached for his wand to deal with the ball again.

This time the ball, floating into the air, became three. With a vehement flick, they shot across the grounds in different directions, racing the wind that was picking up; it carried a slight chill.

"We'll think on the band. And aye, that's all the music," he glanced down at their list and then, with a half-smile, looked at Joh. "Must we do the rest of it just this moment, darling?" Balfour reached for the lapel of the other man's coat to give it the slightest tug. "I'd like to spend some of this time alone....you know, not just talking about the wedding."

They had been so busy between work and entertaining the ideas of various relatives. How often did they have time to themselves that wasn't their winding down in the tower bedroom every night? And with the Ministry being as mad as it was, his new position as Department Head....

Balfour's smile twitched into something a little less pristine. "There's a bothy at the top the next hill over," he suggested and glanced in its direction as he let go of Johann.

“Well…” Johann drew out the word, battling his inner need to be on top of the todo list with enjoying the moment away from interference.
“I’d like to spend some of this time alone… you know, not just talking about the wedding.”

It was hard to say no (not as if he would) to those eyes when the corners dropped and the eyebrows rose in hope. He knew exactly what they and the tug of his lapel meant. Balfour was right, their life had become one long conversation about either the wedding or politics at work, especially with Balfour climbing the ladder. He was incredibly happy and proud for his fiancé even though he found himself waking in the middle of the night worrying about Balfour going the way of his predecessor.

Meanwhile Johann’s daydreams had become a mixture of the usual Balfour-centric romantic musings, eyeing up Hester Iravani’s job (and elaborate schemes to get her to vacate it), and ‘what if’ scenarios for their big day. Yesterday he had lost himself in a theoretical exercise about trying to ensure all magical beasts had to be on their best behaviour that weekend to prevent a good number of their favourite wedding guests having to leave prematurely to deal with a crisis.

“There’s a bothy at the top of the next hill over,”
“Is there?” Johann replied pressing his lips together and narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. The notebook and pocket self-inking quill made their way back into his coat pocket without more than a flicker of hesitation. “I guess I have rather been overthinking of late, my love,” he sighed, allowing himself to mentally put down the list of wedding responsibilities, a smile returning to his face as he felt his shoulders lighten.

He entwined their fingers, reached out to touch his fingers to the inside of Balfour’s wrist of the same hand, and paused them long enough to steal a kiss. “You know I love you, don’t you?” He asked, even though it was the most obvious thing in all the world to the other man. “And I want to spend my life with you, until we’re grumpy old wizards with long white beards?”

Out here, in the cold, Johann's fingers burned against his wrist. His lips burned too, against Balfour's. And then his words.

"I know," he breathed into the slim space between them. "You and me, against the world until the very end." There had been a time when he thought the end might be sooner rather than later - but now he looked further, much further. To children and grand children and great grand children. To wrinkles and laugh lines and creaking joints.


Later...

Wizarding bothies - much like magical tents - were blessedly more comfortable than their muggle counterparts. A fireplace crackled at one end of the small stone cottage; only a few chairs and a small table lay between it and the low bed that had been made at the other end, built into an enclosure in the wall. Faded tartan curtains were drawn close against winter light.

Their clothes were haphazardly strewn about. A scarf dangled on the door handle.

"We'll have to do this to get away from Feliks, come summer." Balfour was saying in a drowsy voice, laying on the bed of furs and sheepskins with Johann's head on his arm. It was warm in here and the two men boasted a sheen of cooling sweat on their bare bodies. "Seems hard to imagine, doesn't it?"

He played with his fiancé's curls, head turned to the side so that he could admire Johann better. "We'll be married by then. Mr. and Mr. Spectre," Bal let the smile creep into his voice. "And you'll have to keep pinching me to remind me I'm not dreaming."

Even if, as a rule, he never dreamed.

“You’ll need pinching then?” Johann retorted, eyebrows lifting in amazement. “I’ve needed pinching every day since we met.” His face broke into a grin, suggesting that while this might be truth, he didn’t hold it against Balfour that he hadn’t already suggested the same. He gently pinched at flesh above Balfour’s hip as he curled in for a kiss. Time had paused just here, he was certain. If they never left the bothy it would remain Sunday, like a temporal glitch. It would remain Sunday and they’d stay the same age too.

“Can’t we send him on some long adventures?” Johann asked, inching his head up Balfour’s bicep. He slid his hand across to the unpinched hip, and relaxed his cool fingers over his fiancé’s clammy skin. “I’m sure my mother would be overjoyed to take him on a jaunt somewhere for a day, like old times with me, and there must be half a dozen cousins he can play quidditch with…” Such a list of people, but…

He lifted his fingers in weak gesture, realisation at what they were suggesting. “But that does seem rather mean since we’ve had to send him away for school the moment he arrived.” He peered up at Balfour, whose face was all cheek, beard and eyelashes.

“We’ll have each other to be selfish when we go away after the wedding,” Johann suggested, gently squeezing Balfour’s waist. “This summer we do this living as a ‘proper’ family business. All Spectres together.” A genuine smile bloomed at the thought of becoming one officially. “You know, make some traditions of our own with Feliks.”

There was something about the woods on the estate - time did not want to budge. It trapped the two men in the way it held them in a hushed spell that Samhain night[1] almost two years ago now. Here in the bothy, which perched on a hill surrounded by spindly winter trees, the earth was wonderfully still - and by its stillness, seemed to say: there is no hurry.

He shifted slightly, leaning back from their shared kiss with the contentment of a man who every day learns anew the extent of his good luck. Johann rested on his one arm, which he had crooked slightly so that he could continue to play with those dark brown curls.

            "This summer we do this living as a ‘proper’ family business. All Spectres together..."

Balfour slipped his free hand hand over the one on his waist, and worked his fingers between those ink-stained digits. Gods, yes, as much as they joked about keeping Feliks occupied, they wanted more than ever to be a family for him. With him.

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" he was smiling more broadly, a touch of softness in his voice. "There's so much I want him to see and do and enjoy. We could go on a short trip abroad maybe. He'd probably like that, seeing more of the world."

There seemed little Feliks didn't enjoy learning about, even if he had an odd way of expressing interest. He took it all in like he was bloody starving. Balfour sighed slightly, looking down at Johann's pale face framed from above by his curls. "You're so good with Feliks. What would I do without you?" he squeezed their intertwined hands.

A rhetorical question - one he didn't like the ponder often, now that they were at last together and unhindered by darker forces.

1.	Oct 31st 2010 - Deep Behind Your Wanting Ways

“He’d probably like that, seeing more of the world.”

“Hmm,” Johann hummed in agreement. He was rarely against travel, given his wanderlust, and it would be lovely to go together. “We should ask him, get the atlas out and make a list.”

His mind had recalled the atlas[1] he had gifted to Sasha a few years back, which he had personally annotated with suggestions, tales, and advice on what not to bother with. Yes, he should get Feliks something similar, only they could fill it with their travels, rather than Johann’s advice.

“You’re so good with Feliks. What would I do without you?” The comment and the squeeze of hands brought a peaceful smile to Johann’s face, and he clasped back.

“Cry, drink a lot…” He replied, knowing the statement was rhetorical, but unable to resist the temptation to inject a little humour in the moment. Everything had been rather serious that week, what with the unwanted parcel arriving at Hogwarts, and Johann stuck in Finland with hobnobbing wix politicians.

“I’m sure you’d be fine,” he followed up, as much reassurance that Balfour was perfectly capable of being the ‘responsible adult’ to his newly acquainted son. “But I am sorry I wasn’t there this week.”

It was perhaps the fourth or fifth time he’d said it since getting home midweek, but the whole situation appeared to revisit Balfour’s thoughts at regular intervals. Johann could see it in the way he’d pause, whether they were eating, reading or discussing something. A small part of his partner was going back over the incident.

“He’ll be home before we know it, and we’ll keep him busy dawn ’til dusk with the menagerie and helping prepare the wedding,” Johann assured the love of his life.

1.	27 December, 2009 Holiday Visiting