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The walk from his previous seat—halfway down the Gryffindor table—to the front of the Great Hall can’t take more than a minute to complete. It’s not far to go, Chuuya is not a slow mover, but the distance seems to stretch miles in seconds, making the journey feel like it takes the entire night.
Faces are a blur as he passes, Chuuya registers a lot of enthusiasm from those around him, reaching out to shake his hand or clap him on the back as he moves through the throng of cheering Hogwarts students. Those from the two other schools—Durmstrang and Beauxbatons—regard him with varying degrees of intrigue and disdain, sizing up his chances against the two champions already called.
When he had tossed his name into the Goblet of Fire, Chuuya hadn’t actually thought he would get picked. It was just part of the routine in his house, everyone grabbed a slip, scrawled their name, and threw it in the fire almost as soon as the announcement was made. The idea of winning the ending prize was exciting enough for him to go through with the routine. But, for the Goblet to spit out his name? Chuuya is reeling.
After shaking hands with the headmaster and being ushered into line, Chuuya forces himself to take several big and calming breaths as he scans the Great Hall, now properly able to see the expressions of his fellows. There are smiles and thumbs up and cheers that all feel gratifying: it is nice to know no one seems too bitter about losing out.
Except…Dazai, who is all but glaring at Chuuya from his place near the front of the Slytherin table, and it takes Chuuya completely aback.
All the other students fade away from sight as Chuuya tries to figure out why Dazai looks so angry at Chuuya being their school champion.
The common assumption—that Dazai is a Slytherin and their two houses have been locked in a bitter rivalry for generations—is too simple to describe their normal dynamic in the first place. By virtue of growing up with the captain of Slytherin’s most recent Quidditch cup winning team, Chuuya tends to get on with the other house better than most of his house. Kouyou even introduced him to Dazai, when they were first-years still getting lost around the castle corridors.
Growing older, and coincidentally becoming the top two students in their year, Chuuya and Dazai were likened as fierce rivals, almost to the point of being enemies, by the rest of the school as they traded off the top-ranking spot every year. While Chuuya is unrivaled in their year in transfiguration (definitely the hardest subject at Hogwarts, Chuuya’s positive), divination (he’s just a natural), and care of magical creatures (all the creatures like him, which means they all have good taste), Dazai is impossible to top in charms class (which has made him a terrifying dueler), arithmancy (Chuuya doesn’t understand why he can’t take normal divination like everyone else), and potions (Chuuya has spent too many years guarding his goblet around Dazai). Though, despite how obnoxious Dazai is, and how much they argue, and how much his presence is comparable to a vicious headache, Chuuya wouldn’t necessarily say ‘enemies’ is able to describe them.
After all, on the years when they both spent the winter holiday in the castle, enemies didn’t study more advanced subjects in the library together, for hours every day. Enemies didn’t keep in touch over the summer break, as they somehow began to do over the course of their seven years at school together.
If they were enemies, Chuuya wouldn’t feel so irritated at the glare Dazai is sending in his direction throughout the rest of the headmaster’s speech.
If they were enemies, Chuuya wouldn’t hunt down Dazai after the ceremony was over and drag the taller student into an empty corridor.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Chuuya asks, voice hushed so the students noisily passing by won’t hear them.
Dazai cocks an eyebrow. “Problem?”
“Don’t act like an idiot, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” When Dazai doesn’t seem inclined to speak, Chuuya rolls his eyes and prompts, “you looked like me becoming champion was a personal insult. I’d call it jealousy if I didn’t know you were utterly incapable of anything physical and would have been a shit champion.”
“Becoming champion didn’t interest me, my name wasn’t even in the Goblet.”
“Then what is your problem?” Chuuya snaps, his emotions too jumbled from the rush of adrenaline earlier, his temper at its wit’s end as Dazai dances around the damn point.
Dazai shrugs. “I just assumed you weren’t stupid enough to play into this thing.”
“This ‘thing’ is a legendary tournament, what is so stupid about it?”
Brown eyes are unreadable as they stare Chuuya down, lazily scanning Chuuya’s face (which he is sure is growing red with his anger) before they flick away to look at something over Chuuya’s shoulder. “It looks like you have some fans waiting for you, enjoy the fame, slug.”
With that, Dazai turns and steps into the main hallway. Watching him go, Chuuya swears under his breath: Dazai’s moods are shitty enough to deal with on their own, but when Chuuya doesn’t even know what caused them they’re a unique brand of hell.
Stifling a sigh, Chuuya forces himself to squash his temper so he doesn’t bite the head off of every student who stops to talk to him from here to the Gryffindor tower.
Fuck Dazai anyways.
The Quidditch stadium is chaos, and Dazai despises every second of it as he shoulders his way through rowdy students and those who managed to snag tickets to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. Over the roar of juvenile chants, cheers, and jeers are the earth-shaking roars of the task’s obstacles.
Dragons.
Why the hell are they pitting students against dragons?
Finding a decent seat in the front row, Dazai sends a withering glare in the direction of the top box where the headmasters of the respective schools and ministry officials are sitting. For some reason, they all seem completely at ease despite the fact that students have literally died trying to complete this Tournament, despite the fact that students could die here.
And it’s utterly ridiculous because when Dazai mentions waiting for the blissful release of death he’s greeted with disdainful stares and lectures about needing to see a professional. Yet, for some reason, every living being in a twenty-mile radius was losing their collective minds over the chance of seeing three teenagers bet their lives on an archaic trophy.
Another roar makes the hair on the back of Dazai’s neck stand up and he glances toward the area where he assumes the dragons are being kept, seething.
This whole thing is so idiotic Dazai can barely stomach it.
“Dazai! You came!” At the shout, Dazai glances over his shoulder to see a third-year who had taken a liking to him (despite being in Hufflepuff) weaving through the crowd until wiggling into a spot next to Dazai. Atsushi grins up at him. “The way you’ve been acting since the champions were announced, I assumed you wouldn’t come.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Dazai repeats, “the way I’ve been acting?”
Atsushi nods. “You’re Head Boy, whenever you’re in a bad mood everyone knows. It’s easier to avoid losing house points that way.”
Barely biting back a scowl, Dazai turns his attention back to the pitch. He preoccupies himself with studying the way the normally neatly trimmed grass has been transformed into a rocky landscape ideal for a dragon’s nest which, coincidentally, sits in the middle of the entire area.
“I simply don’t think the Tournament should have been revived, but my opinion doesn’t matter,” he mutters.
“Well, with Chuuya as our champion we’re bound to win!”
Now Dazai does scowl and he leans over the railing, trying to shove down the temper that’s been simmering under his skin ever since the headmaster called out Chuuya’s name, ever since he saw Chuuya decide to throw his life to chance after spending years telling Dazai to take better care of his own.
“Atsushi, do me a favor?”
“Of course!”
“Be quiet.”
“Ahhh….” Atsushi trails off, apparently rethinking whatever he had been planning to say.
Dazai doesn’t know if the younger student takes his leave or decides to stay thanks to the blissful silence, and he doesn’t care. All he can do is stare at the door where the champions will enter the pitch one-by-one and battle it out with the creatures.
And dragons on their own is ridiculous, life-threatening, enough, but then the ministry official announces that they’re nesting mothers, that the point of the task is to steal an egg from a nesting dragon, that each student randomly selected their dragon and their number and will have no protection other than their wand, Dazai feels his blood rushing to his face with anger.
They’re all idiots.
The Beauxbatons champion goes first: a girl with blonde hair and perfect posture, paired against a sleek blue dragon that’s fiercely fast. It’s rather clever of her to charm the dragon to sleep, and Dazai can admire skilled spellwork when he sees it, it is a shame that her plan gets a little sidetracked when a jet of flame from the snoring dragon lights her skirts on fire. All in all, she gets the egg without too much fuss and receives good marks to match.
Next comes the Durmstrang champion: a pale boy with black hair and purple eyes that Dazai has had the displeasure of speaking to given that Durmstrang is sharing the Slytherin dorms. His opponent is a bright red dragon with gold markings that the boy shoots with a curse meant to blind the dragon. As the crowd around him reacts with fervor, the dragon blunders about, trampling on half the real eggs, almost crushing the golden egg and the boy in the process, before stumbling far enough away for the champion to complete the task.
Understandably, he gets docked points.
The first two matches Dazai can watch with a sense of detachment, but when the ministry official announces the final champion, he feels his pulse pick up.
And then the dragon is led in.
Care of magical creatures is not one of Dazai’s favorite subjects, but he’s still scored high marks in it, and he recognizes the creature immediately. Where the previous two dragons were breeds he was unfamiliar with, anyone with two brain cells to rub together should recognize the beast considered one of the most dangerous creatures in the world—the most dangerous breed known to dragons.
Dazai feels his heart stutter to a stop as the Hungarian Horntail settles over her nest, her roar so much more bone-chilling than the other two dragons, yellow eyes scanning the pitch hungrily as if anticipating Chuuya’s entrance.
“What the fuck are they thinking?”
He doesn’t realize he said it out loud until someone clears their throat and says, “what who are thinking?”
Dazai doesn’t bother to glance over at Atsushi who, evidently, has been sitting next to him the entire task. Instead, he grips the railing and leans closer to the beast, warily regarding the spiked tail swinging back and forth like it is just itching to bash a certain redhead’s skull in.
Chuuya enters the pitch to deafening applause from the Hogwarts students and Dazai glares at those around him, wondering if they are so oblivious to the possibility of Chuuya dying in front of their eyes or if they’re just that eager to cheer this mania on.
The distance from the stands to the pitch is greater than normal in an attempt to keep the audience safe from danger. It’s difficult to make out Chuuya’s facial expression but Dazai recognizes the Gryffindor’s posture immediately: every inch of him is filled with determination to carry out the task and Dazai briefly wonders if he’s going to see Chuuya die here.
Chuuya’s wand points up at the sky and he flicks it once, his lips pressed into a thin line as he gives a silent incantation that seems to yield no results despite the fact that Dazai knows Chuuya’s silent spellcasting is top tier.
There isn’t time to puzzle over the strange moment because then Chuuya’s diving to the side, dodging a column of fire by a hair’s width, and Dazai thinks he might have completely forgotten how to breathe. It’s almost an out-of-body experience to watch Chuuya battle the dragon, to feel his heart skip a beat every time the other boy misses death by mere seconds. Even when his broom comes zipping into the pitch and Chuuya hops onto it to roars from the students—after all, Chuuya’s Quidditch skills have been unrivaled since Kouyou graduated—Dazai can’t bring himself to feel anything other than mind-numbing terror.
And Chuuya’s a brilliant flier. He zips in and out of the flames, rolling upside down on his broom and making daring nosedives that send the observers into a frenzy. But that doesn’t change the fact that his opponent is a nesting dragon.
When the spikes of the dragon’s tail connect with Chuuya and send him tumbling, Dazai shoots to his feet, trying to will Chuuya to survive, to just call it quits and walk out of the pitch.
Chuuya rights himself, of course he does, and wheels the broom around, going for the egg once again like the foolhardy Gryffindor he is.
Suddenly, it’s over.
Chuuya has the egg tucked under his arm, dragon handlers are entering the pitch to spell the dragon to sleep, and Chuuya is landing not far from the nest, his left arm hanging limply and bleeding profusely from the dragon’s spikes. Everyone is cheering, thrilled at his performance. The marks come in, higher than the other two champions by just a hair, putting Hogwarts solidly in first place.
Even from this distance, Dazai can see that Chuuya is grinning, teeth flashing against his skin as he takes in the support from his fellow students.
Dazai’s knees give out and he collapses into the seat behind him.
“Are you alright?” Atsushi asks, concern laced in his voice.
In any other circumstance, Dazai would be irritated at himself for so blatantly showing this moment of weakness, for letting the cool and collected mask that has served him so well over his time at school slip. At any other time, he’d be able to wave away the question with some bullshit excuse that would make sure he was left alone.
Now, however, he simply drops his head into his hand and lets out a controlled exhale, not confident that his voice will be steady if he tries to answer Atsushi’s question right now.
For now, in the midst of the chaos of frenzied students, Dazai tries to get his emotions under control, tries not to let his mind conjure up image after image of Chuuya crashing on the pitch’s ground, legs and arms at odd angles as he’s completely vulnerable to the charging dragon. It’s mildly successful, and as Dazai feels himself calm down he wonders why no one else can understand his reservations about the tournament, why no one else seems as terrified at the idea of Chuuya dying as he does.
He wonders what he would have done if the task had gone south and his last conversation with Chuuya had been an argument.
At that thought, Dazai gets back on his feet, moving away from Atsushi with a wave and a nod to try and reassure the younger boy that he’s fine. Dazai weaves through the students still excitedly chatting about the task and makes his way down the risers.
As Head Boy, he’s allotted certain privileges, and Dazai is very careful when choosing to exert his influence over the school. Now, he’s able to quickly get the location of the tent where Chuuya is getting his injury looked after and is able to charm his way inside with little trouble.
Chuuya is sitting upright on a cot, feet hanging over the edge as he stares at something in the palm of his hand, the golden egg settled next to him. Getting closer, Dazai tries to push back a new wave of distaste at the sight of a miniaturized version of the Hungarian Horntail.
He doesn’t know what gives his presence away, but Chuuya looks up abruptly before his eyes narrow and his fingers curl around the dragon as if hiding it from Dazai’s view.
“I wasn’t expecting you to come to the task given how much you seem to hate the entire Tournament,” Chuuya says, voice dry.
‘I came because I couldn’t stomach waiting for secondhand news’ isn’t a response that agrees with Dazai’s tongue. Instead, he gives a nonchalant shrug. “My opinion on the Tournament aside, the Head Boy can’t very well not show up to a display of ‘inter-school sportsmanship and goodwill’.”
That’s the wrong response, Dazai knows it is as soon as he opens his mouth to speak but he says it anyway. This is what he knows, it’s how he and Chuuya have always interacted, and he’s still so numb from the fear of watching the task that he’s running mostly on autopilot.
Chuuya’s eyebrows draw down and he spits out, “then why are you here? Coming to remind me how much you hate having me as Hogwarts champion? Maybe hoping I’d pull out so a Slytherin could take my place?”
It’s not a bad proposal, certainly something Dazai would consider though not for the reason Chuuya likely thinks.
“I came to see if they were able to manage your injury or if your arrogance finally landed you with a wound the nurses couldn’t heal.” Shaking his head, Dazai mutters, “who would use a broom against a dragon?”
His comment doesn’t go unheard. “Someone who has actually decent flying skills. And it worked. Are you so far up your own ass that you didn’t hear the scores that put me in first place?”
“First place? What an honor after the first task. Chuuya might want to watch his pride or he’ll fall so far in the second task that he won’t be able to catch himself this time.”
Chuuya’s eyes flash with fury, his jaw tightens, and Dazai wishes he could get his tongue to stop moving, or to form the words he actually wants to say rather than antagonizing the other student. Poking fun at Chuuya’s near deathly fall is too far, he knows it’s too far, he’s still too angry that they’re even in this situation to really care.
“Get the fuck out and leave me alone you bastard.”
Even if Dazai were to apologize now he knows Chuuya won’t believe there’s any sort of sincerity in his words. That’s the tricky thing about being in a house infamous for its liars and con artists: everyone is predisposed to believing he’s always lying.
So, rather than groveling, Dazai decides to save face by pulling his lips up into a sneer. “Enjoy your five minutes of fame, O Grand Champion.”
He turns and strides from the tent, aware that Chuuya is cursing him out fiercely but not willing to acknowledge any of the horrible words that drop from Chuuya’s lips.
It’s only when he reaches his room that Dazai lets himself crack, repeats the same curses to himself in the mirror as he paces, running his hands through his hair. He just wanted to say congratulations, wanted to thank Chuuya for not dying. Why couldn’t it be easier to say such things? Why couldn’t it be easier to let his true feelings come out when he was with the fiery Gryffindor?
Why was Chuuya the only thing he couldn’t charm in his sleep?
How was he going to sleep at night knowing Chuuya might go into the second task without them having made up, that Chuuya might vanish in the second task without Dazai being able to get across his true emotions?
What even would the second task be? Surely, it couldn’t be worse than the damn dragons.
The singing is hauntingly beautiful, the verses lacking a melody but still capable of rooting into Chuuya’s brain and distracting him at the most inopportune times.
Ever since he first heard the verse that left the golden egg when submerged underwater Chuuya has felt apprehensive about the second task. It’s difficult to imagine something harder than dragons guarding their eggs, but he knows those who organized the tournament must be trying to one-up themselves for every task which means that the second task will be harder, will be more dangerous.
It took him less than a week to crack the clue inside the golden egg he received after the first task. After his first time opening it and hearing the ear-shattering wail, Chuuya found himself grinning even as his friends complained loudly at the noise he quickly quieted.
He wishes he could rub the clue into the faces of everyone who ever laughed at him for continuing to take care of magical creatures past his third year. After all, he knows that none of the other champions were able to instantly recognize a merperson’s unique piercing shriek, which means none of them have known the clue to the second task as long as he has.
Alone in the prefect’s bathroom, Chuuya had listened to song play on repeat from the egg, casting a bubble charm around his head so he could sit at the bottom of the pool-like bath and listen to each line over and over again until he had the entire clue memorized.
That had been almost four months ago, and Chuuya still can’t escape the haunting song that came from the egg.
He still has no idea what the second task will be.
Of course, he does have a general idea of what will happen. The first two lines of the clue are fairly obvious.
"Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground.”
The Great Lake is home to nearly a hundred different magical creatures, and Chuuya even has a general idea of where the merpeople’s colony is after spending an entire semester taking classes next to the lake as his professor lectured about the species living inside.
Though, Chuuya can’t help but be a little peeved that he’ll evidently be sent diving into the same pond housing a giant squid.
It’s the next two lines that confuse him the most and, back alone in the prefect’s bathroom the night before the task, Chuuya listens to them again, searching for a hidden meaning that he missed the first thousand times he listened to the egg’s tune.
“And while you're searching, ponder this;
We've taken what you'll sorely miss.”
Chuuya can’t make sense of it. After all, the merpeople themselves can’t take anything from him considering that they can’t spirit themselves into his dorm. And take what? Chuuya has wracked his brains for months trying to decipher what could possibly be taken that would fit the clue, what the tournament officials could even know that he would miss.
The only thing that comes to mind is his wand, and he knows they wouldn’t leave him wand-less. (How could the champions even compete without their wands anyways?)
Drumming his fingers on his thigh, Chuuya shifts his focus to the last four lines of the song: the most straightforward and disturbing of them all.
“An hour long you'll have to look,
And recover what we took,
But past an hour — the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."
Having a time-limit on the task is a challenge. Just to swim to the colony could take half that time, and that’s assuming there are no obstacles in his way or unfortunate run-ins with oversized cephalopods. If he goes over the time-limit will he be disqualified? Have points docked?
Would they truly keep whatever they took from him forever?
Chuuya blows air out of his lips in frustration, watching with idle detachment as a smaller bubble breaks away from the one storing his oxygen and floats to the surface of the bath.
Just like every time he’s come here since cracking the clue, he hasn’t been able to parse out new information. Besides feeling confident in how he’ll survive the lake, Chuuya has no idea what he’s in store for, has no idea what he’ll be looking for.
At least he had been tipped off about the dragons beforehand, had time to come up with a strategy to deal with the dragon beforehand. Now, he’s walking in basically blind with the reputation of an entire organization riding on his back and Chuuya feels slightly panicked.
If Dazai…
Biting his bottom lip, Chuuya scoops up the egg and kicks his way back to the surface of the bath, his charm (one a certain bastard Slytherin taught him) falling away.
If Dazai wasn’t so busy being the world’s biggest asshole, maybe Chuuya wouldn’t be feeling so unprepared. After all, if anyone could unravel cryptic messages it would be the king of being cryptic himself, and Dazai’s mind is razor sharp: Chuuya has no doubt the other student would know what Chuuya is up against after only an hour of tackling the riddle.
Shaking his head, Chuuya forces Dazai out of his thoughts—the last thing he needs to do the night before the task is get caught up in anger regarding the bastard. He’ll be fine, he’ll be able to make it to the colony, which may be more than his fellow competitors will be able to achieve.
Chuuya heads to bed with that thought to fuel him through a fitful night of sleep.
In the morning, the entire castle makes its way down to the lake in groups, and Chuuya lets himself be herded by his friends—all of them excited to see the second task and seemingly oblivious to the nerves that are beginning to eat at Chuuya’s inside.
He didn’t notice anything missing from his dormitory in the morning. The mystery of what exactly he’ll be looking for has finally caught up to him now that the task is here and, that morning, Chuuya even considers breaking down and asking Dazai about it.
The only thing that stops him is the fact that Dazai is nowhere to be seen.
At breakfast in the Great Hall, Chuuya searches the Slytherin table for their resident Head Boy. He makes eye contact with the Durmstrang champion before continuing his search, almost in disbelief that Dazai isn’t at the table. If it weren’t for how much Dazai clearly disliked the entire Tournament, Chuuya might have assumed the other boy went down to the task early or was helping to set up, but the most logical conclusion is the one that twists his guts even further than they already are knotted.
Dazai isn’t coming to the second task at all.
It shouldn’t bother Chuuya that much, especially not after the shit show of their conversation after the first task. Without Dazai at the second task, there’s no chance that Chuuya will have the high of completing the task well snatched from him by venomous words.
Someone bumps into Chuuya’s shoulder as they make the trek down from the castle. “Are you alright? You’ve been spacing out since breakfast.”
Chuuya nods before he even glances over to see who is talking. When he does register the presence next to him, he graces Yosano with a slight smile. “I’m fine, just a little nervous.”
Yosano doesn’t miss a beat. “Bullshit.”
After spending years at school with the young woman (and after way too many Quidditch matches played against her that were razor thin victories or losses), Chuuya shouldn’t be as surprised to hear the blunt response come out of her mouth.
He blinks at her, a bit stunned. “What?”
“Obviously you’re nervous, that much is given, but you were nervous before the first task and still managed to keep up a conversation. What is actually up with you, Nakahara?”
Giving a weak-hearted shrug, Chuuya tries to come up with a way to blow past the actual issue bothering him. He hasn’t mentioned to any of his friends that he and Dazai are fighting because the predictable reaction is them laughing him off by replying that he and Dazai are perpetually fighting. Chuuya can count on one hand the number of people that actually know he doesn’t hate Dazai (as he seems to from the outside looking in), he can name one person who he would feel comfortable speaking through his entire situation with and she graduated two years ago.
“Is it about Dazai?”
Now, Chuuya stops in his track, too stunned to keep moving. “Why would you think that?”
She shrugs, studying her nails as if she is unimpressed with her own conclusion despite the fact that Chuuya knows Yosano, and knows she’s probably inwardly gloating at making the correct guess. “He was glaring daggers at me during the Yule Ball.”
“I thought you two got along?” As very well they should, considering Yosano’s dueling skills are almost as deadly as her potion making—two things that earned her respect from the hard-to-please bastard.
“Oh, we do, or we did get along better before I showed up as your date to the ball. I’ve been carrying poison antidotes around with me ever since, just in case.”
Chuuya frowns, completely lost now. “You’re not making any sense, Yosano.”
Rolling her eyes, she reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling him along. “You’re not going to make this task if you keep standing around being obtuse. Really, Chuuya, you’re supposed to be the clever Gryffindor.”
“Just because people aren’t in Ravenclaw doesn’t automatically make them less intelligent than you,” Chuuya points, an old argument between them.
“Then think, genius. Why would Dazai, a person who I’ve been on good terms with for years, suddenly get mad at me for being your date to the Yule Ball?”
With a shrug, Chuuya says, “Dazai’s been angry about me being champion since my name came out of the Goblet. He probably hates anyone who encourages me by proxy.”
“Really?” Yosano gives him a sharp glance. “I thought you two were acting colder than usual but I didn’t realize you’ve been fighting almost all school year. Did he say why he was so upset about you being champion?”
“If I knew it wouldn’t be bothering me so much,” Chuuya snaps.
The other student mutters something under her breath about dim-witted teenage boys and Chuuya pretends not to hear the insult. As they’re nearing the task and Chuuya sees an official waiting to collect him, Yosano comes to a stop, tugging Chuuya’s arm so he’s looking at her.
“When was the last time you went on a date with someone, Chuuya?”
Her question comes so far out of left-field that Chuuya isn’t quite sure he heard it correctly. “You and I just went to the Yule Ball together?”
That earns him another eye roll. “That wasn’t a date. That was me bailing you out because you needed someone to go to the ball with you and evidently couldn’t come up with a single person out of three schools’ worth of students to ask. When was the last time you had an actual date?”
Wracking his brain, Chuuya replies slowly, “maybe fourth year.”
“And when did Dazai break up with his last boyfriend? That pretty boy from Hufflepuff a year ahead of us.”
Still not sure what dating has to do with anything, much less Dazai’s dating history, Chuuya answers, “fourth year.”
A finger connects harshly with his forehead and he yelps in surprise before rubbing at the spot and frowning at his friend. Yosano doesn’t look apologetic about the flick at all as she says. “One of you will have to get your act together before the year is over and you both lose your best chances.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Good luck on the second task, don’t embarrass us, Nakahara.” With that less than inspiring pep talk, Yosano continues on her way to the spectators’ seats.
Chuuya watches her go for a moment before shaking his head and moving off to his right, following the official to the champions’ tent. Even if she left him with more questions than answers—which she was oft to do—Yosano had at least managed to dig Chuuya’s emotions out of the rut they’d been in all morning.
He can try and parse through her odd questions about Dazai and dating later. For now, he focuses on the task, pulling on the bathing suit provided for him and falling into line to be paraded in front of the audience of students, teachers, and others in front of the lake.
Nothing is moving along the lake’s surface—a bad indicator of how cold the water is—and Chuuya is reluctant to pull off his robe and step up to the edge of the pier. Steeling himself, he hops into the lake, biting back a few choice words at the chill as the Beauxbatons champion jumps in beside him.
The Great Lake is nearly black in color, making it impossible to see far down in the water or even across the lake’s surface. (Chuuya forces himself not to picture any number of possible terrifying encounters with the giant squid).
He only listens with one ear as the rules of the task are laid out, perking up the mention of a ‘precious thing’ being taken from each competitor only to tune back out when he realizes they aren’t revealing what the ‘precious thing’ is.
As a dubious prize for being in first place, Chuuya gets to start his trek into the lake first and he wades out to the starting point while clutching his wand, running through his plan continuously to distract from nerves.
When the whistle sounds, he shifts his grip on his wand and points it at his legs, murmuring a long incantation that he memorized nearly a month ago. He can feel the magic coursing through his wand, is familiar with the tingling sensation he equates with a spell well cast and points his wand at his ears without looking down at his handiwork. Another incantation, another tingling sensation. Next, he points at his eyes as he hears gasps from the onlookers as they finally catch onto his plan. His final incantation is said with his wand pointed directly at the side of his neck.
As soon as he feels the tingling this time, he dives underwater and bites his lips: heart thudding in anticipation.
He can breathe.
Grinning, Chuuya blinks his eyes open and tries not to jolt backward in shock at how far he can see in the murky waters with his transfigured eyes. It’s unsettling enough that his ears are picking up the sounds of all the life teeming in the waters, are picking up sounds of creatures that he knows are not native to the lake and therefore likely a part of his challenges for the day. Glancing down, he marvels at the tail jutting down from his waist.
To be technical, his partial transfiguration is not regionally accurate. He knows selkie are native to these waters with their greyish skins and dull matching tails. And while he had originally debated the advantage of possibly being mistaken as part of the local tribe and thus avoiding obstacles or fighting with the merpeople, Chuuya also didn’t want to get mistaken for a local by the other champions. As such, his tail is a luminescent orange, glittering in a way much more reminiscent of the warm-water sirens, like the one in the painting in the prefect’s bathroom.
Human transfiguration is a highly advanced skill, Chuuya doubts anyone in the committee predicted one of the students would attempt it, much less pull it off flawlessly as he had. Grin widening, Chuuya also doubts anyone would have thought he would transfigure into one of the very obstacles of the task. He’s willing to be proud a little bit when he’s done something clever.
Gripping tightly to his wand, Chuuya dives down into the lake.
It takes a couple of minutes to get used to the tail, but once he does Chuuya is swimming rapidly, much quicker than he would have otherwise. He covers so much ground that he starts to push his concern about the time-limit out of his mind.
With the enhanced senses of the merpeople at his advantage, Chuuya is able to avoid running into another living thing as he travels until he reaches the colony. Here, he can feel curious eyes watching him as he slows down, scanning ceaselessly, trying to find the thing that he doesn’t even know is missing. His only hope is that it’s something he’ll be able to recognize instantly.
As soon as the thought crosses his mind, Chuuya regrets it.
He sees them from the distance, in the middle of what looks to be some sort of town square. Three people floating completely still as if they are lifeless, tethered to the bottom of the lake by rope. Chuuya’s ‘precious thing’ is in the middle.
There’s no point in wondering why the tournament organizers made this particular choice for Chuuya or who might have even given them the idea. All Chuuya can focus on is the terror that courses through his body as he darts forward, trying to calculate how long he’s been in the lake and how long he has left before the chilling final lines of the task’s clue come true.
Reaching the square, Chuuya fires off a charm at the rope without pause, wrapping one of Dazai’s arms around his neck while supporting the Slytherin around the waist.
He turns without so much as a glance at the other two people still floating in the lake, racing for the surface as his heart thuds in his chest. Chuuya had spent all morning frantic because he hadn’t ‘noticed his precious thing missing’ only to later be angry at Dazai’s sudden absence.
Chuuya should have known better to think even a childish tantrum would keep Dazai from performing his Head Boy duties with clinical perfection. He should have asked about Dazai’s whereabouts, maybe if he had drawn attention to it the tournament officials would have been forced to pick someone, or something, else to cover their tracks.
Head breeching water, Chuuya wades at the top of the lake as he casts his gaze about, searching for the pier. It looks like it’s a lifetime away, but his tail helps him cover the distance in mere minutes, his merperson ears overly sensitive to the cheers from the students at his appearance.
Ignoring them all, and trying not to snap at them for thinking this a fun sport when Dazai has been tied to the bottom of the lake for, fuck he doesn’t want to think about how long it could have been, Chuuya hoists the unconscious student out the water, pushing Dazai up onto the deck as two officials pull.
Tugging himself onto the deck after, Chuuya swats away the hand that tries to shove a towel at him in favor of hovering over Dazai. The seconds tick by at an agonizingly slow pace, Chuuya clenching his jaw to keep from yelling at those around him (watching uselessly) to tell him when Dazai will wake up.
Finally, the spell that must have kept Dazai asleep in the lake seems to wear off and slowly, torturously slow, brown eyes blink open.
Dazai frowns and opens his mouth to speak only for a slightly strangled noise to come out.
Chuuya panics. “Are you okay? You were so far underwater, for at least an hour. Fuck, I don’t even know why they thought that would be okay. I’ll call a nurse for you to-”
“Chuuya.” Dazai’s voice sounds funny, but his name makes Chuuya’s rambling come to a halt so he can look at the other student. And Dazai is…laughing? Waving a hand at Chuuya, Dazai manages to say, “you’re still transfigured.”
Looking down, Chuuya’s eyes widen at the sight of his tail and he coughs lightly, suddenly realizing how much he overreacted once he saw Dazai in the colony. He quickly undoes all of his transfigurations and accepts the towel that lands around his shoulders. When he’s back to normal, he glares at Dazai. “I save your ass from drowning in that lake and the first thing you do is laugh at me?”
“I know what they told you, but you can’t seriously think they would just leave us to die if you weren’t able to do the task, right?”
Glancing away, Chuuya tries to will his cheeks from blushing. “Whatever.” Then, all of Dazai’s words register and his attention snaps back to the young man next to him. “What do you mean you ‘know what they told me’? How do you know?”
Dazai rolls his eyes. “Dostoyevsky was bragging about how he was the first champion to unlock the clue in the egg and told me what it said.”
“When did he figure it out?”
“January.”
Chuuya smirks. “It took him over a month? A bit pathetic.”
A matching smirk curls onto Dazai’s lips. “I did mention that you likely figured it out just as fast, if not faster.”
“Of course I did.”
Another pair of heads breech the water and screams start to sound again. Dazai and Chuuya glance at the water’s surface long enough to recognize the Beauxbaton’s champion and the person who went as her date to the Yule Ball, a quiet student from the same school with golden-rimmed glasses.
As a flurry of activity picks up beside them, Dazai speaks up again. “Surprised they picked me as your thing to be ‘sorely’ missed and not Yosano.”
“Yosano and I only started talking three years ago. I was already wishing I could get you to stop talking three years ago,” Chuuya replies, confused. While he does think it’s odd Dazai was chosen, that stems mostly from a reluctance to believe some observer might have noticed something about his relationship with Dazai that he’s been unwilling to come to terms with himself.
“She was your date, wasn’t she?”
Chuuya frowns, trying to follow Dazai’s thought process until his conversation with Yosano rises to mind and he puts two and two together. “You can’t seriously be telling me that you were fucking jealous after you spent the last month being a complete dick to me.”
Dazai’s eyes widen. “Jealous?”
“That explains why Yosano said you’ve been angry at her,” Chuuya mutters before raising his voice again so Dazai can hear him clearly. “Though, I have a hard time buying you being jealous over someone you hated having as your champion so much.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Dazai snaps, cheeks pink. “You’re the most qualified person who was willing to be our champion, which means you’ve always been Hogwarts’ best chance at winning the Tournament.”
“Then why have you been such an ass about it?”
Dazai glares at him. “Because people die doing this, Chuuya! The Tournament hasn’t been held in two hundred years because the last time they held it a champion died! Why would I have any kind of joy in seeing you risk your life for something as pointless as a tournament trophy?”
The outburst catches Chuuya by surprise, as do the words that tumble from Dazai’s lips in an onslaught as the third champion swims to the surface to cheers.
“You were…worried about me?”
“I assumed you wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and throw your life away on this circus.” Dazai gestures to the chaos around them.
With nurses running back and forth, officials looking harried as they try to handle the champions, the frenzied cheers of the onlookers and the darkness of the lake beside them, Chuuya is hard-pressed to defend the Tournament as anything more than a circus.
He supposes Dazai has a point, Chuuya never did seriously consider the possibility of dying in this process. Not even while battling the Horntail had he ever been truly convinced that his death was imminent, not with so many adults standing by to make sure that very thing didn’t happen. In fact, until seeing Dazai in the lake, death never was a concern in his head.
Recalling the terror he had felt at the sight of Dazai, helpless and vulnerable in the lake, Chuuya wonders if that’s the same way Dazai felt when Chuuya’s name was drawn, when Chuuya was handling the first task.
“You’re an idiot,” Chuuya finally mutters, meeting Dazai’s gaze once again. “You should have just told me this from the start.”
“Would it have made you withdraw?”
“No.”
“Then there wasn’t a point.”
Cocking an eyebrow, Chuuya leans forward and brushes his lips against Dazai’s cheek in a move so fast, touch so fleeting, that it was barely there at all. But Dazai still reacts, eyes widening even as his cheeks flush a little more.
Chuuya vehemently resents all the onlookers now (not even sure why any of them hung around considering they couldn’t see shit that went on in the lake anyway) for robbing him of the perfect opportunity to kiss Dazai properly, like he’s only now allowed himself to acknowledge he’s been wanting to do for a couple of years.
“Was there a point now?” Chuuya asks, feigning innocence.
Coughing into his fist, Dazai looks away. “I guess.”
Chuuya is still in the lead when the scores for the second task are announced.
He’s not at all surprised about it, aware that there wasn’t a flaw in his transfiguration to be docked and that his speed in getting to and away from the merpeople colony was considerable.
But Chuuya doesn’t particularly care about the results of the second task. It’s difficult to care about his rank compared to the other two champions or the task he’ll be facing in just two months from now.
It’s difficult to care about anything other than the feeling of Dazai’s fingers twisting through his hair and Dazai’s lips against his.
Mind wandering to his conversation earlier in the day, to the acknowledgment that the last time Dazai dated anyone was nearly three years ago, Chuuya isn’t quite able to understand how Dazai can be this good at kissing.
Everything between leaving the docks behind and this moment is a blur. While Chuuya distinctly remembers getting his score, distinctly remembers holding out his hand to help Dazai onto his feet and then never letting go afterward, he doesn’t remember how exactly he managed to worm out of a celebration with his friends (though he wouldn’t put it past Dazai to have done the convincing on his behalf).
He remembers, with startling clarity, the heavy silence that had fallen between them when Dazai closed the door to his private dorm room and they were left to stare at each other after four months of feuding and an awkward semi-confession. Chuuya remembers doubts flicking through his mind as he stared up at Dazai, as he felt nerves settle in his stomach again, as he tried to parse out why exactly he followed Dazai to the other’s room in the first place.
He remembers the gasp that fell from his lips when Dazai crossed the distance between them to tug Chuuya into a kiss, into their first kiss.
The second, third, fourth, fifth, tenth, every kiss after that, are all blurs in Chuuya’s memory as he tries to keep up with the way Dazai’s lips seem determined to unravel him. Hands locked behind Dazai’s neck, holding them pressed against each other, Chuuya closes his eyes and lets himself be swept along in the embrace until he feels a laugh bubble up into his chest.
Breaking away slightly, Dazai asks, “what’s so funny?”
Chuuya would be worried about offending Dazai if the Slytherin’s voice wasn’t so obviously amused. “I was just thinking how ridiculous it is that we weren’t even talking to each other twenty-four hours ago and now we’re making out.”
“It fits us,” Dazai chuckles.
“We could have been doing this all year if you weren’t so emotionally stunted.”
“I’ll just have to make up for lost time, then.”
Chuuya opens his mouth to ask how exactly Dazai plans to do that and loses his words in a groan as Dazai dips down, bypassing his lips to suck at the skin on Chuuya’s neck. His fingers dig into opposite arms as Dazai bites down, sucking harder.
“You’d better not be leaving a mark,” Chuuya manages to force out even though he knows he doesn’t sound even mildly convincing in his protest.
Dazai’s response is to hum and suck harder, his grip on Chuuya’s hair forcing Chuuya to keep his head still as Dazai works the skin at Chuuya’s neck until it starts to feel sensitive. Only then, does Dazai let go and press a chaste kiss on top of the abused area before kissing his way up Chuuya’s neck, down his jaw, and back to Chuuya’s lips.
Letting his eyes flutter shut, Chuuya licks into Dazai’s mouth, determined not to be one-upped (much the same way he feels about their school ‘rivalry’). At the first slide of their tongues together, Chuuya represses the shudder that wants to run down his spine, refusing to be taken apart by Dazai so easily.
But as fierce as his determination is, his body seems to have opinions of its own and Chuuya feels heat pooling in his gut as the kiss grows longer and filthier and needier until it’s almost too much to bear and he has to break away from it.
“Chuuya.” Dazai has said Chuuya’s name before, has said it so many times before that Chuuya couldn’t have possibly kept count if he tried. He’s never said it like this before and it has Chuuya’s breath catching in his throat as he waits for the next words to come from Dazai in that new coarse tone. “Can I help you?”
Chuuya blinks, not quite sure where Dazai is going with this or why he would ask something so mundane at a time like this. “Help me? With what?”
His lips are caught in another kiss, this one open-mouthed as Dazai’s hands release their grip on his hair and slide down Chuuya’s body to catch his waist. By then, Chuuya has all but forgotten the question in the first place and he lets out an embarrassing keening sound when Dazai tugs him forward to drag over the leg positioned perfectly between his legs to put pressure on the bulge Chuuya hadn’t even realized had grown so large.
Dazai’s grin is absolutely impish. “With that.”
Considering the taller student from under his eyelashes, Chuuya asks, “how do you plan to help?”
“Hmmm, I was thinking we could move to the bed and grind against each other until we both come.” The words drop so casually from Dazai’s lips that Chuuya almost wants to slap a hand over Dazai’s mouth to make them stop, particularly when they make even more blood rush south. “We’re too keyed up for anything drawn out, maybe next time I can-”
“Shut up, forget I asked.” Chuuya knows his cheeks are probably bright red. While he’s not innocent he also has been ‘so busy with school’ the last two years that he has barely given anyone a second glance. He wonders how he didn’t even realize his obsession with doing well in school was entirely fueled by Dazai being the student competing for the top rank in class, fueled by a determination not to let Dazai leave him behind.
“Is that a no?”
“…no, it’s not.”
Grin widening, Dazai tugs Chuuya into another quick kiss before leading him to the bed. Chuuya is gently pushed until he’s sprawling on the sheets in the middle of the bed and Dazai wastes no time in laying on top of him, cradling his face to bring their lips together as if the seconds they were apart had tortured him.
Embarrassment leaving in the wake of enjoyment, Chuuya loses himself in the sensation of their kiss once again, all but forgetting why they had changed locations until Dazai grinds down on him and he moans into the kiss. He can feel Dazai smile against his mouth and the taller man doesn’t let up, grinding down again, harder, as he lets out a soft moan of his own.
Chuuya is greatly regretting the jeans he changed into after the second task, lamenting how the rough material keeps him from fully appreciating the sensation of Dazai’s bulge brushing against his own, but the friction is still amazing.
Reaching up, he clutches his hands into the back of Dazai’s shirt, anchoring Dazai against him as Chuuya’s own hips begin to move, rising to meet every downward cant of Dazai’s hips as he kisses more greedily now, panting into Dazai’s mouth as they grind against each other.
As usual, Dazai’s reasoning is much too sound to make Chuuya happy because he can feel himself hurtling towards the edge at regrettable speed.
Turning his head away so he can catch his breath, Chuuya squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to speak around the building pleasure. “D-dazai, I’m…I’m close.”
Instead of replying, Dazai drags his hips down in a deeper, slower, roll that has Chuuya seeing white as he’s pushed over the edge. He only registers that Dazai follows right behind because the bastard collapses on top of him.
Blatantly, Chuuya realizes he’s still clutching at Dazai’s shirt and lets go of the twisted fabric only to rest his hands on Dazai’s back, idly running his fingers up and down Dazai’s spine as he mentally preens at the small pants the taller man is making because of him. Chuuya saves his complaint about the added weight for a few minutes, savoring the warmth of the embrace as he lets his own breathing return to normal.
“You know,” he finally hums into the quiet room, “this is the kind of congratulations you could have given me for becoming champion.”
“Win the Tournament and come back alive and I’ll give you an even better congratulation,” Dazai shoots back.
Eyes sparkling at the challenge, Chuuya cranes his neck to try and meet Dazai’s gaze—which is considerably difficult given that Dazai’s head is nuzzled against his shoulder. “Oh? Is that a promise?”
With a scoff, Dazai pushes himself up just enough for them to make eye contact. “Just stay alive, chibi.”
Smiling, Chuuya gives Dazai’s nose a gentle flick. “I’ll be fine. I’m the top wizard in our year after all.”
“Only until I beat your ass in exams again this year.”
“I wasn’t aware that you owned any Gryffindor gear.”
At the familiar voice, Dazai looks up from his seat near the center of the stands to smile at the former Slytherin seeker. He can’t keep the smirk from his face as he admits, “I don’t. Why would I?”
Taking the seat next to Dazai, Kouyou levels him a bemused look. “You always did have a death wish but flaunting the fact that you’re dating the current most desirable Hogwarts student is ballsy, even for you.”
Dazai shrugs, more than aware of the glares leveled in his direction as he lounges, waiting for the third task to finish with a scarlet and gold scarf dangling around his neck. “He was the one who insisted I needed to wear something to show my support.”
“We missed you during the family visit.”
“More like missed the opportunity to grill me?” He quips without blinking.
Kouyou’s grin takes on a sharper edge. “You act like you’ll somehow be able to evade it indefinitely.”
Normally, this is where Dazai would make a self-assured statement about being able to do just that, but he recognizes the determined look in Kouyou’s gaze, knows that she’ll corner him at some point or the other. As much as he jokes around with her now, Dazai was in no condition to deal with overprotective adoptive sisters this morning, was feeling much too jumpy about the looming third task.
In fairness, his nerves are still on edge as he stares at the massive maze (though a part of him wonders why the tournament is so poorly suited for spectators yet draws such a fanatic crowd). He can only imagine what is waiting inside the turns and twists of the hedge and Dazai won’t be able to stay calm if he starts thinking of it again. It’s a bit of a miracle that he’s remained so poised for the past two hours, that he kept a cocky smile on his face as the champions marched out and entered the maze one-by-one, that he doesn’t flinch at the horrendous noises that come from inside every now and then.
There’s nothing he can do regardless of how jumpy he feels, so Dazai sits and waits for Chuuya to come out of the maze alive, like he promised to do that morning when Dazai didn’t want to let go of his death grip on Chuuya’s waist as the champion made to roll out of his bed.
(And Dazai’s so glad he has his own dorm since sharing beds across houses isn’t just discouraged but against the rules, regardless of the lack of sex occurring in them as both parties grapple with Tournament-related stress.)
“He’s going to be fine.”
The comment catches him by surprise, and Dazai tugs himself from his thoughts to look away from the maze and back at Kouyou. “Pardon?”
“Chuuya, he mentioned you’ve been worried about him competing in the tournament, and that you’ve been drilling him on dueling charms. He’s going to be fine.”
“Of course he is.” Dazai’s reply is automatic, performative for the students eavesdropping more than for Kouyou, who can see right through the facade anyway.
Screams sound around them, and Dazai glares at the nearest group of students, wondering why they’re all so excitable. Kouyou looks down at the maze and Dazai watches as a huge grin spreads on her face and she jumps to her feet.
The band starts playing music, what sounds like a victory march, and Dazai gets to his feet to look over the heads of those doing the exact same thing.
Standing in front of the maze, clutching the tournament cup and smiling victoriously, is Chuuya.
Blue eyes scan the crowd until they meet Dazai’s and Chuuya holds the cup aloft, brow quirking in a challenge.
For the first time at one of these stupid, dangerous, tasks, Dazai feels truly lighthearted, thinks he might finally be able to understand the emotions of those around him screaming and crying with joy. He smiles in response and brings two fingers to his brow before flicking them away in an informal salute.
It looks like he’ll need to plan a suitable celebration to congratulate his boyfriend for becoming the Triwizard Tournament Champion.