The Story of Regulus Black - Years 1-4

LXI. Mistletoe and Warrants

Hogwarts was a magical place, but even more so during Christmas; it had a way of bringing people together.

There was a special kind of magic that would always show itself during Christmas in the form of mistletoe, which would sprout above the heads of two people if they loved each other very much.

For most of the residents of Hogwarts castle, this was the best tradition they could imagine, and all that they could talk about for the weeks leading up to Christmas.

"Did you hear that so-and-so kissed blah blah blah in this random stupid corridor?"

For Deacon Ackland, however, this tradition meant constant stress.

On this particular day, Deacon and Francesco were walking side-by-side along the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor. Deacon was quite nervous, and he kept stealing glances up at the ceiling to be sure that mistletoe hadn't magically sprouted above them. Deacon knew that the mistletoe only appeared above the heads of two people if they both had the same feelings, but this came as no comfort to him.

Sometimes, he felt as though his love for Francesco was too much for even two different people to possess.

Francesco looked over at Deacon and, noticing the nervousness on the smaller boy's face, promptly stopped walking.

"Are you alright?" Francesco asked, and Deacon looked at him in confusion.

"What?" Deacon asked; his voice was just as gentle and quiet as always.

"You're acting strange."

"What? No I'm not! No, I'm just... I just..." before Deacon could continue with his excuse, the unthinkable happened.

A fleck of snow fell onto the tip of his nose.

Shocked by the sudden snow flake that seemed to have appeared out of no where, both boys looked up.

Deacon nearly fainted.

Above them, hanging from the ceiling, was a little bushel of mistletoe and red berries, which was covered in small patches of snow.

Francesco furrowed his brow and looked at Deacon, who's cheeks were flushed with emotion and embarrassment.

"Fran, I'm so sorry! I know I should have told you, but I was scared that you wouldn't want to be friends anymore! I can get over you, I swear! Please don't be weirded out! I don't even know why the stupid castle did that, I guess I just like you too much or something, but I swear-"

Suddenly, however, Francesco cut the smaller, rambling boy off - with a kiss.

Deacon had never been more shocked in his entire life. He felt Francesco's hands cupping his cheeks gently, his lips pressed against Deacon's.

Deacon was frozen; he didn't know if he could find it in himself to move a single muscle. Francesco was kissing him. Francesco Anderson, the boy who Deacon Ackland had been hopelessly in love with since the moment they met, was kissing him. He didn't know whether he should kiss the boy back, or if he should push him away, or if he should just... do nothing. He was dreaming. Deacon Ackland had to be dreaming. There was no way - absolutely no way - that this was real. It had to be a dream. But it felt so... so real. And the butterflies that Deacon Ackland had expected to feel when he had kissed Regulus Black were fluttering around in his stomach, and his heart was beating at three times its normal rate, and his hands were pooling with sweat and shaking, and he was frozen.

Francesco Anderson didn't know what he was doing. What the bloody hell was he doing?! What had come over him?! But, he could feel Deacon Ackland's soft lips beneath his own, and he could feel his skin against his hands, and he didn't want to pull away; for, when his lips were pressed against Deacon's, it seemed like everything made sense - like everything that Francesco Anderson had done in his life had led up to this exact moment. And he never wanted it to end. He wanted to stay frozen in this moment for the rest of his life.