And so the beginning goes a little something like this:
It's the first match of the Hogwarts Quidditch season with the house of Gryffindor facing off against the house of Slytherin. Those of noteworthy attendance include the esteemed Headmaster, the honorable professors, and Yu-Chien "Benny" Tseng as designated Quidditch commentator.
The game is fierce. Slytherin asserts early dominance with a twenty-point lead before Gryffindor stokes the fire under the cauldron by gaining twenty points of their own. After hours on the pitch, Slytherin Seeker Nicole Greentree snags the Golden Snitch for her house, but with a final ten-point lead, Edward Chen leads his house to victory. "Gryffindor wins," Benny announces over the din of the crowd, desperately trying to keep the smug grin off his face as he continues, "Gryffindor wins the first game of the—"
And then all eyes widen as the Gryffindor captain himself grabs a Ravenclaw student from the stands, hoists him up, twirls him around, and then snogs him in full view of the entire Quidditch pitch and the Headmaster himself.
("Did you know about that," Hyung asks, perched on his broomstick and looking only a little miffed his house lost the match.
"No, but trust me when I say I am absolutely ecstatic over this turn of events," Ray replies, grinning from ear to ear as he glances over at the other player. "Good game, by the way."
"It was, but I doubt anyone's going to remember the game when we've got that going on."
In a way, he's right: the kiss sticks around the public rumor mill for weeks after. Eddy is rarely seen without sporting the brightest of grins. Brett holes up in the Music Room and practices like he's never practiced before.)
*
They become a couple.
Or a fake couple, rather, but that's something only the two of them know. It's not so bad, despite his initial trepidation and the concerns he'd brought up everyday for a week, but then again, it's only really because Eddy asks for physical touch like a consummate gentleman and doesn't try to force any public displays of affection when Brett isn't ready.
Still, they have to ramp it up a few more notches moving further along. Better that he builds up some immunity concerning the physicality of this relationship now so he can face the storm on the horizon.
Their friends buy into the charade completely and without question, strangely enough, and seem all too delighted at seeing them together as a couple. Ray makes kissy faces at them unashamedly when he thinks Brett isn't looking, Hilary and Sophie coo over how adorable they are, the Gryffindor Quidditch team wolf-whistles every time they pass by Brett in the hallways. It's odd how thoroughly accepted their supposed relationship is, but Eddy doesn't seem all too concerned about it, so—maybe Brett should just leave that be too.
They do things couples normally do. For Christmas, an owl delivers Eddy's present to Brett in Hogwarts: an expensive set of violin strings enchanted to never rust nor break. When Eddy comes back from spending winter break in London, they kiss on the front steps to a chorus of oohs and aahs. Eddy grows him a rose bush with the Herbivicus Charm for Valentines' Day; Brett responds with a huge box of chocolates sent during Quidditch practice, of which Eddy had eaten only two of the thirty pieces of chocolate because he'd ended up feeding everyone on the pitch, which means it hadn't been a complete waste of a gift, at least.
To support each other's interests, they make a point of attending school events that the other is involved in. Eddy comes to his concerts in dark formal robes with a bouquet of flowers and a starry-eyed expression after every performance. Brett comes to watch Gryffindor Quidditch practice and all the official matches. It's not so bad, watching the sport and seeing his not-really-boyfriend speed across the pitch with all the grace of an Abraxan, and it's not just because Eddy's smile is the most radiant it's ever been when he's in his element.
He's usually stone-faced in the stands whenever he watches Eddy play; everyone and their mother's better off not seeing the worry that itches underneath his skin, hoping he never has to see Eddy get injured by a ball or a fall. And anyway, the one and only time Brett tries to yell out support for Eddy while he's playing, the other man nearly falls off his broom in delight, so. He thinks it's probably not a good idea to try that again.
Hyung, on the other hand, is ecstatic while watching this play out on the pitch, which might also be tied to that age-old rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor aside from plain old amusement, but that's not really something Brett's an expert on. "Merlin's beard, he's fucking whipped!"
He can feel the blush coming on, heat warming his cheeks like he's standing in front of a furnace. Gods, but this is embarrassing. He wants and is ready to cast a few spells to physically sink down through the bulk of the stands and into the earth, but he made a promise to Eddy he'd be here, so that's just a no go. "Shut up, shut up!"
"Don't shut up," Sophie cackles beside him, clapping her hands together as the team from her house scores ten points. "Hufflepuff will win if you keep this up!"
Brett buries his face in his hands, so very close to dissolving into nothingness right then and there, but Gryffindor eventually wins the match, Eddy stating that it's all thanks to the 'call of his clever eagle lover', so he supposes there's at least something to salvage from the situation, even if it makes him want to throw himself in the lake and feed himself to the Grindylows.
*
This fake dating thing: he thought he'd be able to handle it. They'd escalated things a little bit: now, there's a few more shared kisses here and there, a few more acts of intimacy sprinkled throughout each day, the bulk of his free time now entirely taken up by weekend dates at Hogsmeade and shared study sessions and watching his boyfriend fly around the Quidditch pitch while he works through new music pieces with a quill. But ultimately, he's fine with all of those. It's not like he's never experienced them before.
So, he thought he'd be able to handle all of that. That had been before the love letters started showing up.
The first time he receives one, he thinks it's for someone else. For either Ray or Hilary, specifically, because they've both got their own fair share of admirers, and they're seated on either side of him in the Great Hall when the owls start flying in to deliver the morning mail.
"No, but it's got your name on it, though?" Ray squints at the pink-tinged envelope with barely-concealed confusion, his finger rubbing at the elegant scrawl of Brett's name on the back of it. "Oh, wait, hold on—isn't this a Lovebird to Love Note spell?"
Across from him, Jordon swallows down a mouthful of corn flakes before chiming in. "Fifth-Year Transfiguration?"
"It is," Brett murmurs quietly; he'd been hoping no one would catch on to that little tidbit. "Why'd it be addressed to me, then? I've already got, y'know," he pauses, mentally sorting through appropriate words and terms and picking the least dangerous one, "a partner."
"Why don't you just open it and see what it says," Hilary quips, her toast momentarily forgotten as she peers at the letter with interest. "Go on!"
Well, what else can he do? Brett carefully breaks the seal of the letter, watching as it shifts, floating up into the air as it morphs into a form that looks like a Howler, but far more benign. The envelope's mouth is smiling, for Merlin's sake.
And then it begins to sing, and yep, this is definitely not like a Howler.
Oh, blue-bronzed eagle, you breathtaking soul,
The grace you exude is a thing to behold.
Who can come close to the spark in your mind
When I'm stuck on the hope you won't leave me behind?
From the start, I've seen all the wonders of you,
And I hope you can see them inside of you too.
Now won't you come give this lion cub boy
A kiss on the mouth to fill him with joy?
Backed by a chorus of awws from the surrounding audience, the letter bursts into a cloud of pink sparks and birdsong before it finally falls back down to the table, an ordinary envelope once more. Brett stares at it for a poignant moment of disbelief before he looks up to gauge his friends' reactions.
Ray's eyebrows have climbed to the summit of his forehead. He has a distinct look on his face that says he's never going to let Brett live this down, ever. "Oh, that's just bloody brilliant."
"Really the cutest thing," Hilary adds.
Brett glares at Jordon, willing him not to say a word in addition to everyone else before he turns around, looks over his shoulder at the Gryffindor table to see Eddy Chen give him a fucking wink.
Well. Alright then.
The letters keep coming. He receives another one for Christmas, tucked carefully between the folds of the fancy paper when he unwraps the parcel; it sings him Celestina Warbeck's A Witch and Wizard's Wintry Wondrous Land for hours, crooning the lyrics I'm under your spell, and it's clear to tell that baby, you're under mine too so breathily that Brett's cheeks refuse to give up their blush until the song stops looping. He receives one for Valentine's Day, hidden amongst the leaves of Eddy's rose bush. He receives one after every concert, congratulating him on his wonderful, stunning, amazing performances. He even receives one that makes the Headmaster himself chuckle when the letter reads itself too-loudly in the Great Hall.
Clever eagle, my dear,
Pay mind of the time;
Come on by to the pitch
To watch your love shine!
And before I forget,
No, this can't go amiss—
When this man aces O.W.L.s,
Please grant him a kiss.
Brett's not one for petty trifles, but even he wishes, just for a moment, that Eddy horribly flunks the exams. Just for a moment, before he comes back to himself and rolls his eyes at the dramatics. Really, now.
"This is getting out of hand," he tells Eddy one day, having weathered the reactions of his classmates when the most recent love letter had sent itself to him in Charms. Even Professor Grawert hadn't been immune; he'd spent more than a few minutes cooing at Brett and then waxing poetic about his long-lost Giantess love. Brett's pretty sure a Hufflepuff girl had started to weep silently into her books at the climax of the story.
"It's for the facade, Brett, just play along and be flattered," Eddy laughs, slinging an arm over Brett's shoulder as they amble down the hall. "Don't you enjoy being reminded time and time again that you're loved?"
And, well. He doesn't know what to make of that.
*
Looking back, Brett can't quite pinpoint the exact moment he realizes he's absolutely fucked himself with the whole fake dating nonsense, but the broomstick ride—it's a pretty close thing.
Brett's parents had gone on a trip back to Brisbane for Easter break, and so when Eddy extends the offer of joining him and the Quidditch team on a short holiday trip to Cornwall, he finds himself without any excuses not to go.
"And besides, it'll be fun, so you have to come," Eddy tells, a look of determination in his eyes like he's all too willing to argue with Brett about it on the off-chance he says no, and well, he's just not going to give Eddy the satisfaction.
"Fine, I'll come, but you pay for my room at the inn," Brett says and turns on his heel to leave before Eddy can even think of suggesting they share the room instead, because, uh, no thank you. That's not happening ever. Nope.
They travel by Portkey to the village of Tinworth near the coast, ostensibly to pay a somewhat-educational visit to Phoebe's great-aunt who's known for breeding and training squadrons of giant magical bumblebees. In truth, well: they visit the bumblebees, and then they go off exploring the sharp coastlines and jagged beaches of the southwestern peninsula. It's a beautiful place, and something restless in Brett's soul settles when he stands at the top of a sheer rock cliff staring out into sea, the ocean breeze stirring his hair and his heart alike.
"Enjoying yourself?" He doesn't turn around; he'd know that voice anywhere. "I told you you would."
"Yeah, yeah, you were right." Brett closes his eyes, breathes in the salt in the air. Yeah, he's really glad he tagged along for this holiday. "Fuck, but it's gorgeous out here."
"Mmm, I agree," Eddy says, and Brett finally turns around to see him looking at him instead of the scenery around for a split second before he drops his gaze to his feet. "Anyway, uh, I was wondering if you'd fancy a ride?" He extends the broom in his grasp, the Firebolt Supreme he uses in Quidditch matches.
Brett raises an eyebrow at it. "Only one?"
"Well, you didn't bring your broom, so we'll have to make do." He lets go of the Firebolt Supreme, settling on it comfortably as it floats in the air, before he reaches out to offer a hand in Brett's direction. "Come along?"
He's seemingly been given a choice between staying at the cliff or flying off into the darkening twilight. But in all actuality: there's only one course of action here. Brett takes Eddy's hand, hops onto the back of the broom as they begin to take off into the sky. "Hold on tight, then," is the instruction, and then: flight.
Brett rarely if ever rides a broom to get around; he thinks the last time he'd ridden one had been for his Flying class so long ago. And it's not like Eddy's ever tried to invite him on a broom before today. But now that he's up here, with the sky an endless tapestry of colors sequinned with stars above the inky waters of the sea beneath them, he comes to realize that he's been missing out on a whole lot of shit.
He feels weightless and weighty at the same time, like he's powerful enough to take on the whole world entire, both Muggles and wizards alike. It's the same feeling he gets when he's onstage, about to play a piece for the audience and the universe itself to hear. It's heady, it's magical, and if Eddy's presence has magnified that feeling thricefold, well, he's not about to spill secrets that easily.
In the moment, Brett feels a little bit of bravery, shuffling forward to share in the warmth Eddy seems to radiate. He's so relaxed, he almost misses the words when they're spoken aloud. "I'm glad you came along with us."
"Mmm?" He keeps his eyes closed, leaning his head against the strong curve of Eddy's back. "You thought I wouldn't?"
"I wasn't sure you'd want to," comes the hushed reply. "You always seem so single-minded. So focused on accomplishing whatever it is you've set before yourself. I always thought you were a stone-cold creature, and your resting face didn't really help matters." Eddy breaks off into chuckles when Brett slaps his shoulder. "No, really. But then I saw you—playing onstage like you're making stories with just the music, and I—it felt a little bit like magic, and you weren't even using magic. It was all you." He pauses; Brett's lungs pause with him. "Just you."
It takes a moment for Brett to think of an answer. None of the words he's got could really compare to what he's just heard. "I didn't know you thought that."
"Well, now you know I think you're magic," Eddy laughs. "And I guess I just wanted to give you some semblance of peace, whatever I can offer you, like the same peace you've given me."
The other man leans back a little like he's adjusting his stance or maybe like he's trying to get closer. "Your talent's a gift that's all your own, and I'm glad I've gotten close enough to see you use it. Don't forget me when you're off doing greater things," Eddy says, like Brett's the one who shines brighter of the two of them despite his own heritage, his own family name, his own skills and popularity and the entirety of him. It's ludicrous.
In lieu of answering, Brett just tightens his hold on Eddy's waist.
They return to the seaside inn they've been staying in, its proud and stately structure rising up from the rocks like a lone guardian over the coast. Brett gets down to the sand first, sighing contentedly as he wiggles his toes; flying might be a wondrous thing, but he still much prefers the dependable ground beneath his feet. He turns around, mouth open to say a joke or what-not, and—and.
Eddy's looking at him with fondness in his eyes and his smile, or perhaps something deeper, something more, and in the sudden silence that descends upon them like a too-warm blanket, Brett opens his mouth and tries to stall whatever's approaching.
"Well, that was—that was a wonderful broom ride," he begins to babble, "and I had a great time. Awesome time, even. I can finally see why you like flying around on brooms so much, chasing balls or people or otherwise. And hey, maybe my newfound appreciation for flying might push me into signing up for the Quiddi—"
And here Brett's speech and his mind fail him all at once; here, Eddy leans forward and kisses him.
He's never taken a drop of Amortentia in his life, but he imagines this is what it would feel like in his gut: bubbly like boiling, Periculum and Bombarda shaking him to the core. Life-changing and life-threatening. And fuck, but Eddy's a fantastic kisser.
Brett drags him closer by his collar as Eddy tugs against his bottom lip with his teeth and smiles like the bastard that he is when the action makes Brett moan helplessly. All too soon, he pulls back, and Brett's eyes are caught at the shine of his kiss-battered mouth when the voices filter into his ears, and he remembers where, exactly, they are.
"Hey, Brett! Eddy!" Emma waves excitedly at them across the beach. "We're making a campfire, c'mon over!"
"Stop canoodling if you want some s'mores," Ray yells.
Merlin's fucking cock. Brett looks away, trying to wrestle his thundering heart into submission before he makes an embarrassment of himself. From the corner of his eye, he watches Eddy disembark the broom and set his feet down steadily onto the sand. "So?" The other man flicks his head in the direction of their companions. "S'mores?"
"Yeah," Brett says, not trusting his capacity for anything beyond monosyllabic speech at the moment. He watches Eddy stroll over to where the fire pit's constructing itself and just barely resists the urge to throw himself into the ocean.
And so: yes. He is absolutely fucked.
*
When summer break comes around, Brett makes it his primary goal to rid himself of the unspoken thing that has yet to leave the vicinity of his chest since the broom ride under the starlight (and fuck it all, but it even rhymes).
The hypothesis: some extended time away from his fake boyfriend and the trials and tribulations of fake dating would do wonders about the intrusive, inconvenient feelings rattling around his ribcage. Yes. Good. All the Ravenclaw predecessors before him would surely accept this as recompense for being such an idiot and shaming the house by going along with Gryffindor nonsense in the first place. It's an absolutely fail-proof plan.
Absolutely fail-proof, at least, until Brett steps out of Flourish and Blotts, singles Eddy out in the crowd, and immediately feels like he's taken an Incendio to the chest.
Diagon Alley feels entirely too small now, like the world's narrowed down to the man sashaying down the lane. He can't let Eddy see him: not now, not when his plan is in motion and his hypothesis is dangerously close to being cancelled out. He has to get out. He has to get out of here right now.
Brett turns around, takes one step on his way to disappearing into the sea of bodies in the street. (The universe takes notice and laughs.)
"Brett!" The voice booms, rising over the din of the crowd, and then there's the sound of loud footsteps pattering against the road. "Brett! Brett Yang, over here! Hey!"
He'd been seen; there's nothing to it now but to stay. Fuck, Brett thinks, turning around and plastering a smile on his face as he meets the gaze that has haunted him for weeks. "Eddy, hey."
"Darling, mine eyes have seen no better sight than thee," Eddy crows, gathering Brett into a hug that threatens to make his heart jump right out of his chest and into a street gutter. "Thou is here, and the sun shines ever brighter!"
"It's, uh, it's good to see you too, mister poet," Brett forces out, patting Eddy once in the back before untangling himself from those strong limbs, fighting hard to keep the heat off his face. "How was your summer?"
"It was great! My sister's coming to stay in London until winter term," Eddy muses, handing over an odd-looking drink that smells of tea leaves and milk. Brett sniffs it carefully, takes a sip, and then immediately wants three more cups of the thing. "Something about chasing a lead on some cursed diadem or whatever? I didn't ask for the specifics, and she didn't give up any details either, so, y'know. Intrigue."
Definitely intrigue, considering Belle Chen's occupation as a professional Curse-Breaker. "Sounds cool. Hope she finds what she needs soon."
"Me too," Eddy says, turning towards him and nudging him with an elbow. "And you? How was your summer?"
"Uneventful, I guess," Brett says, succinct and straight to the point. He's not about to expound on anything he's been up to, the plans he's been enacting. No one's business but his own.
Eddy raises an eyebrow, and then a smile Apparates onto the curve of his mouth. "I missed you so bad."
Brett's heart takes it upon itself to spin around the rafters of his ribcage like a deranged bat. "Don't say that."
"It's true, and you should hear it." Eddy's gaze suddenly wanders off to a point beyond Brett's shoulder; his expression blanks out for a moment before he leans over, voice a low whisper in Brett's ear. "Give us a kiss? I see Ray just down the street, and he's making his way over here—no, don't turn around. Kiss me, please."
"You're a bastard," Brett complains, but he doesn't, in fact, refuse him. Instead, he reaches up as Eddy reaches down, their mouths slotting together like puzzle pieces, and it's glorious. There's excited screaming coming from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, spilling out into the street. Random passersby are jostling him hard as the world continues to move all around them. He couldn't give two shits about anything else.
When they part, Eddy pins him with a heated look before he steps back with a mischievous grin. Brett turns around, ready to greet his friend, and yet—Ray Chen is nowhere to be found. He blinks, blinks again. Wait. Wait. "He's—wait a minute, Ray's not here."
"So I lied. Maybe I just wanted a kiss, who knows?" The other man shrugs nonchalantly, his expression the farthest it could ever get from being innocent. Brett's heart jackrabbits in his chest. "Anyway, c'mon, I gotta show you something."
As Eddy pulls him into Quality Quidditch Supplies, he feels something click into place in his brain: a realization. The turning point, as it were.
*
Alright, so maybe the funniest thing is—the funniest thing about this situation is that—the funniest, laugh out loud thing about this debacle is this, listen up, listen close: he is a real fucking moron.
You'd have to be, to fall in love with someone who's fake-dating you.
(He should've listened to the fucking school motto. Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus. Hell, but the dragon's about to swallow him whole.)