Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Hetalia. This may or may not upset me occasionally.

Charmed

It was a frosty evening, the type brought on by a chilly wind that managed to invade each and every pore, despite anyone's best efforts to clothe against it. Layers had nothing on the furious swirls of snow whistling past, assaulting any piece of exposed skin with a viciousness seldom seen in any living creature.

I gritted my teeth against the frigid onslaught, bunching my scarf tighter around my throat all the while trying to keep my hands tucked deeply under my armpits. You can imagine how funny that looked, though I can assure you, I was not amused.

I was on my way back from the Forbidden Forest, right in the dead of night, by no fault of my own. Bore-ginski had been an evil bastard as always, and had somehow thought it funny to make us go collecting our own ingredients for our next assignment (because obviously the seven-day, constantly watched, carefully maintained potion wasn't already hard enough to brew in and of itself).

Of course, telling us to venture beyond safe grounds would have been against the rules, but mentioning a potion with an ingredient that could only be harvested in the forest or by some other very creative means (some legal, most illegal) on the other hand... Well whoop-dee-doo; it wasn't like I was trekking through bullets of murderous snowflakes at three in the morning just for the fun of it.

God, the nerve of him, giving us an ingredients list which involved a flower that only bloomed at two in the morning for half an hour, and also had to be harvested fresh. Of course, I was the only student who hadn't procrastinated so far, and thus was the only one almost done with supply collection, only two days into the assignment. What can I say? I liked being ahead—just not quite so much when it involved being the only one up in all of Hogwarts on a night best spent in the Slytherin common room by the blaze or, even better yet, fast asleep.

—Although, perhaps I wasn't the only one awake.

My eyes could have been playing tricks on me, confused by the combination of flickering torches and glistening flakes, but I was quite sure I saw light faintly shining from a building far off to the left. It was vaguely between my current position and the school's welcoming front doors, but it looked warm, and that was enough.

Target officially changed.

It seemed like hours before I had finally managed to fight my way close enough to see that the light was coming from one of the greenhouses, and even longer still to see that it was one of the abandoned ones, deemed too old for usage.

I wrenched the door open without hesitation, too frozen even to care if the inside held an army of boggarts. My numb fingers doubtfully could reach my unicorn hair and cherrywood wand in time, but even facing a horde of horrors sounded better than the cold. Anything was.

Well, almost anything.

Because when I took a step in, closed the door quietly behind me and looked up, I seriously considered backing right out into the deadly frost once again. I thought I was ready, but nothing could prepare me for what I saw within.

There, hunched over the table on the far end, his back to me, was Gryffindor's very own star of a seeker, Alfred F. Jones—smart, skilled, and devilishly handsome.

In other words: my crush. A very, very big crush.

Alfred was humming some silly tune to himself, and I could hear the tinkling of glass and something bubbling softly in the background. He seemed to have not heard me, giving me the chance if I wanted to escape then and there. My fingers twitched for the door handle, but no matter how much I told myself that it was a good idea to scram, my feet stayed put. It was riveting to watch him work, and my heart begged to stay.

In the end, I had managed to finally take a step backward, only to encounter a pot with my foot and send the thing crashing down, echoing noises the whole way as if it were a concert only with the sole purpose of announcing my presence.

Way to go, Arthur. Way to go.

Alfred whirled around, surprise in his eyes. He made to cover up what he was doing, as if to hide it in case I was a teacher.

Ha. Fat chance of me being that. It was I who should have been terrified. The last place I wanted to be was alone in the same room with my supposed rival. I wasn't even on the quidditch team, but I was a part of Slytherin—and wasn't that just enough as it was?

Perhaps if I apologized for intruding, I could have just hurried off them and there and save myself from even further embarrassment. With a shaky breath, I opened my mouth and began, "I'm sorr—"

"Arthur?"

The way he said my name made it sound so familiar, like we were friends of some sort, whereas in reality, there were probably less than five words ever exchanged between us in the history of our whole nonexistent relationship. Plus, it made sense that I knew his name (heck, I knew so many more things about him, but not in a stalker sense, I swear), but why would he know mine?

"Come again?"

Alfred let his shoulders relax, his surprised expression easing into a soft smile.

"Arthur Kirkland, right? Prefect of Slytherin?"

He took a step toward me, and I was so proud that I managed to stand my ground. It wasn't that I was terrified of him, or afraid that he would affect me in any way that was undesirable—it was simply that his presence was so utterly intoxicating that it was hitting me at full blast, and I was almost choking on perfection.

"Yes," I managed to breathe out, sounding so much more calm and composed than my wildly beating heart. Thank God. "And you're Alfred Jones—err, Alfred F. Jones. Sorry."

Alfred raised his eyebrows when he heard the name, clearly impressed that I remembered. Well, of course I remembered, especially the part about his middle name. He rarely referred to himself in full without it, though no one ever seemed to realize it but me. He was always announced as "Alfred Jones" upon the quidditch pitch, called out as "Alfred Jones" when taking the roster in class, referenced as "Alfred Jones" during gossip in the halls. But if anyone would ever listen, for God's sake, they'd hear the "F" he always used as well.

"You know me?" he asked, breaking into a grin. Was it just the odd lighting from whatever was brewing behind him (did I mention that he was also quite proficient at potions?), or were his cheeks vaguely crimson as well?

"Should I not?" I asked with a slightly confused tone, glad that my voice wasn't failing me in this instance. I seemed to be running steady enough, so perhaps this whole "first impression" thing wouldn't go so badly after all. Here was to hoping for the best, though knowing my bad luck, I was going to trip on at least twenty more pots in the next five seconds.

"I mean," I continued, hoping I hadn't sounded rude before, "I could ask the same to you."

Alfred chuckled and ran a hand sheepishly through his hair, averting his eyes. "I... uhh... well..." It was absolutely adorable how he was avoiding the question, though it confused me to no end as to why. Then again, I wasn't being much of a good sport at coherent answers myself, so who was I to talk?

"Anyway, what are you doing up?" he asked. "Not many people are awake at this time."

I thought that it would have been a bit pathetic to explain that I had stayed up and wandered the forest just to harvest a flower. It wasn't the manliest of pastimes, and I probably would have been teased for my work ethic once again, so I stayed quiet and settled for the next best thing.

"Again, I could ask you the same thing."

Sheesh, he must have been getting tired of me and my stupid answers already, I thought. But to my surprise, Alfred actually jumped at that opportunity, as if he had been all too glad for the change in subject.

"Oh, this?" he asked, jumping aside so that I could see what was hidden behind him. There was an array of tubes, vials, eyedroppers, and flames, all in some sort of fascinatingly complicated system. My guess was that it was "chemistry," though I only knew that from the muggle-centric online magazine that I sometimes read when I was bored and out of range of a good book.

"It's scie—uhh... it's muggle stuff," he amended, frowning a bit. "Purebloods like you wouldn't be interested, I guess."

Ouch.

How could he have thought that? This was Alfred. Alfred. I wouldn't have even cared if it was the deterioration speed of decapitated heads, for God's sake. If it had to do with this exuberantly shining boy, I'd be interested in anything at all.

"Of course I am!" I replied hastily, even though the subject itself didn't quite hold my attention like the he himself did. But if Alfred liked it, then I was sure I could like it too. This was a key opportunity to find out more about him, and I sure wasn't going to let it go to waste.

"Really?" Alfred replied, brightening up considerably at my words. That definitely warmed me a little with smug satisfaction. I had managed to make him smile. Again. I was on a roll, and forgive me, but I was quite proud of it.

"Well then come over here!" He beckoned me closer with his hand. "Let me explain it to ya."

He was so excited that I couldn't have found it in my heart to refuse, even though said heart was beating in a wild and frenzied panic about the mere prospect of getting closer to him. Whenever we had passed in the hallways before, I tried my best to avoid looking in his direction. I would either stare pointedly straight ahead, or perhaps off in the opposite direction, pretending to be interested in anything but his alluring face. Then, when I had successfully passed him, I would often then turn around, stop, and stare after him until he disappeared from sight, always regretting that I was constantly too terrified to introduce myself.

But that wasn't for no good reason. As I said, I hailed from Slytherin, and he hailed from Gryffindor. The history between our houses already made us automatic enemies, let alone our own personal familial backgrounds. When he had mentioned that "pureblood" comment, a part of me had died on the inside. I didn't want him to label me as that, because that wasn't how I viewed myself. Sure, my family was a family of warlocks, wizards and witches, way back to the days of Morgan le Fay, but we were still people. And maybe neither of his parents had an ounce of magic in their blood, but Alfred was nevertheless still a wizard. I didn't want nomenclatures to get between us, but even from this conversation, I could already see that they already had invaded our space.

Ha. "Our space." I was saying that as if we even had something in the air in common between the two of us, when truthfully, there was nothing to be had. Yes, I had liked him ever since the day he had enchanted my heart by swooping down with great finesse and catching that snitch in the blink of an eye back in our second year. And sure, as more time had passed, I only managed to grow to love him more and more, unable to find nary a flaw nor deficit in his character—but this was all one-sided. He was off with his own circle of friends, roaming around the grounds and having fun in their own way, a way which I never would be a part of.

"Arthur?" he murmured, bringing my attention back to reality. I realized I had been staring straight at his face as I had been thinking. causing me to blush madly and avert my eyes immediately. Could I have made a better fool out of myself just then?

"S-Sorry, what were you saying?" Calm thoughts, calm thoughts, calm thou—bloody hell, those were some toned legs.

Of course averting my eyes from his face would have only brought them to stare at another part of him. It seemed that I couldn't keep any part of my body too far away, mo matter my efforts. He was simply too magnetic, and I wasn't even sure if I wanted to fight my attraction anymore.

"I wasn't saying anything. Just that you should come over here, Arthur, so that I can show you what it is." He smiled at me sweetly, causing chills to run own my spine, despite the far warmer temperatures inside the greenhouse. The way he said those words, the way he said my name, the way he spoke in general—it sounded like an invitation for so much more than what he offered at face value. But I knew the words were simple and friendly. I knew I was reading into it too much. I knew I was letting my ears hear what my mind wanted them to hear.

And most of all, I knew I definitely didn't want to fight it anymore.

Thus, I took a tentative step toward him, trying to control my breathing and my rapidly beating heart. I took another step, and then another, and soon enough, I was running right over to join him, right over to his smiling face, welcoming me to the table. By his side.

God, I was going to regret this, but sometimes, I couldn't help falling in love.

I stared at the roof of the greenhouse, dumbfounded by the swirls and flashes of color that were moving around above, casting shadows upon my face as they went along their way, shifting in slow motion. I was lying upon the ground, my head right next to Alfred's, at a level of proximity that was so damn awkward yet so very comfortable at the same time.

Alfred had explained to me what this whole "chemistry" thing was, all right. He had shown me what it could do—what magic it could accomplish.

Above us sat a series of galaxies and star clusters of Alfred's own invention, displayed using what he liked to call "magistry," which was the melding of chemistry and magic. It was a realm seldom explored, mainly because scientists preferred to keep the fields pure and separate when they could, fearing that magic would adulterate results science and vice versa. But Alfred was fearless, and considering he had an interest in both, as he had explained to me, it felt natural for him to try to put two and two together. He thought it would have yielded interesting results.

That was a great understatement. The result was breathtaking.

"So what do ya think?" he asked, exhaling. His voice shook a bit, causing me to glance over. Alfred, however, kept on staring straight ahead, his eyes intently observing the swirling patterns. It was impossible to read him.

"It's... beautiful," I replied, letting my awe shine through. I'll admit that perhaps I wasn't only talking about just the creation, but also the creator himself.

That made Alfred grin, his personality exuding a great amount of pride and happiness that I couldn't quite understand. I was just surprised that my words meant that much to him, even though we had never formally met before. I felt like I had known him for years, but that was probably because I had indeed watched him for years. Thus, I was enjoying this moment far more than I ought to have been, but I couldn't have found a likely reason for him to do the same in return.

Alfred muttered something in his breath, turning his head ever so slightly so that I could no longer see his eyes. I panicked for a moment, knowing that I had blanked out once again while thinking about him. Had I missed something important? Had he explained something else, and was he now mad because I obviously hadn't been listening?

"Pardon?" I asked, hoping that it wouldn't be too much for him to repeat himself. I silently berated my mind for being so easily distracted. I was usually one of the more focused students of my grade level—and of the whole school, come to think of it; but it was just that when Alfred was involved, my intelligence seemed to plummet down to levels lower than Feliciano's Defense Against the Dark Arts test scores—and that was saying something, considering he was the only student in the history of the school ever to achieve a higher negative number than was possible to achieve in positive scoring.

Alfred glanced over at me once again before running a hand through his hair. He exhaled and lay there for a bit before finally repeating, "Not as much as you." He said it still so softly that I could only barely catch the words. And when I did, I blanked.

"What?" I had lost sight of the conversation a little bit, as Alfred had taken over my whole field of vision once again.

Alfred gave a guttural utterance of frustration and closed his eyes, his face definitely red, though I still couldn't quite tell if that was his own blood's doing, or the doing of the stars above him.

"You, Arthur. You." I flinched a bit, wondering what I had done to get him angry. Sure, I had been distracted, but that couldn't have warranted this much irritation, could it have? Had I really missed something that important?

"I what?"

"Ugh." Alfred sat up, and leaned over so that he could look at me straight in the eyes. It startled me into frozen stillness, as I dared not to even breathe in the presence of his perfectly defined face looming over mine, his eyes twinkling and his face undoubtedly blushing.

"You are more beautiful than the stars," he said, loudly and quickly. He then abruptly turned away and flopped back down once again, leaving me staring up at said stars, dumbfounded for the nth time that night. I thought about his words, then thought about them again, trying to get to a point where I could just even accept them, let alone comprehend their meaning.

"Wait, Alfred." I sat up myself, cheeks burning to the point where the chilly winter night was almost stifling in its heat. "Did you just— I mean— beautiful—"

I stared at him as I sputtered further, trying to make sense of it all. He remained silent, decidedly turned away from me. 'Why?' was all I could think. Why had he said that? Why had this situation even warranted such words? Why was he talking about me, of all people? And most of all, why wasn't I hugging him and replying already?

That last part could have been remedied, and I took the chance. I reached over quickly, before I could rethink the action and hesitate, and I pulled him into a tentative hug. I could feel him tensing up, but I refused to let go, knowing that if I did, I would have completely run away as well, and I would have never been able to face Alfred ever again.

"Arthur, wha—"

"Liar," I whispered fiercely into his shoulder. "You are such a liar." Keep going before you stop. Keep going before you stop. KEEP GOING. 'You're wrong, you know. So very wrong."

"What do you mea—"

"I mean that you should have been talking about you, you idiot! You are the one more beautiful than the stars. Hell, you're more handsome than anyone I've ever met before. More skilled and more intelligent too. And that's what I like about you. That's what I've always liked you, ever since—"

I froze, eyes wide open. I had gone too far. I had gone way too far.

I sat there for a while, my mind unable to process the jumbled panic that was taking over my body. I felt so numb, yet so very alive. My skin was tingling, and I was breathing short and shallow breaths, unable to take in anymore than was just barely enough to live.

I hastily untangled myself from my grip on him, standing up in the process as well.

"I'm sorry. I should go. Forget I ever said that, forget I ever—"

I felt myself being yanked down hard, cutting me off mid-sentence. The next thing I knew, Alfred's lips were on mine, and we were... kissing. Good Lord, we were kissing. Or at least that's the word my mind supplied when the rest of my body and mental capacities shut down from shock. His lips were moving against mine, in the way of an expert, or so it seemed. I had been kissed a few times before, mostly as dares and as a part of friends pranking me, but never had I really been kissed. Never had my senses been so fully assaulted that I was almost fainting from the overwhelming emotions and sensations. Never before had I been so wholly and utterly consumed by Alfred F. Jones.

And boy, did it feel good.

When Alfred finally let go, I was left gasping for breath. I had no idea what had just happened, but whatever it was, it had been far more magical than anything I was sure Hogwarts could ever teach me.

"Alfred," I began, but was immediately silenced by his gentle finger upon my lips.

"Arthur," he murmured, staring down at me with an expression I did not recognize. His eyes were burning, his cheeks flushed, and his lips curled ever so slightly into the most satisfied yet shy smile I had ever witnessed from everybody before.

"Arthur," he repeated, his tone completely serious, "Will you go out with me?"

I stared. And I didn't mean staring in the "working through your words ever so slowly" sort of sense; I meant staring in the completely blank "I really can't even begin to comprehend the situation" sort of sense. I was utterly and completely lost.

With my eyebrows creased together in a frown, I immediately voiced the first thought that came to mind, my mental filter currently on vacation at the most inconvenient moment.

"But you're a... you're a Gryffindor." Seriously, was I really stuck on that?

"And?" he asked, frowning in return, now obviously unsure of himself. After a kiss as mindblowing as that, I was sure he had somewhat expected me to say yes right on the spot. And of course I wanted to accept! Every fiber of my being yearned for it—screamed for it. But my mind was slow when it came to Alfred, as I had said before. Thus, there I was, breaking his heart without even trying or wanting to.

"I'm a Slytherin," I stupidly explained, as if he didn't know that already. "Our houses... And you had said... that 'pureblood' thing, and..."

"Is that a problem?" His voice was suddenly so meek, so very unsure and crestfallen. I reached out and wrapped my arms around his neck involuntarily, my body moving as a natural reaction in a need to soothe his pains. Alfred never deserved to be sad.

"No," I replied, whispering into his neck. "No, I just thought that since you had mentioned it—"

Alfred laughed awkwardly, a sound that echoed across the spacious greenhouse, bouncing off the walls in a way that only made the silence a bit more uncomfortable. The Gryffindor struggled to fill that space.

"I didn't mean to say that, you know, earlier." Alfred tentatively brought his hands up to hold me in return, bringing a smile to my face. My mind was starting to clear up now, though the process was still excruciatingly slow. "That's just been the reason why I haven't..." He pulled apart from me, leaving me shivering from the sudden lack of warmth. He placed his hands upon my shoulders and looked me right in the eyes.

"That's the reason I hadn't really... you know, confessed to you yet."

"The houses?" I replied, dumbfounded that we would have the same worries, that here he was, basically confessing to me anyway, despite all of that. Could this night have been anymore surreal?

"No," he replied. "The fact that you were a pureblood and—"

"Wait, that?" I shook my head, unable to believe it. I had never even thought about that before until Alfred had brought it up earlier this night. It had never been a deciding factor for me, between me and him, though I guess my reasons weren't all that logical either. That's why I soon fell to laughter, seeing how ridiculous I had been this whole time.

"You know," I said, trying to talk through the mirthful tears in my eyes, "I hadn't confessed to you because of a stupid reason too: our warring houses."

It was sort of like Romeo and Juliet, I thought, which only made me laugh even more. I knew it was silly now, and apparently, Alfred did too, as he soon fell into laughter with me. We leaned upon each other, trying to catch our breaths as the sheer intimacy of our actions finally caught up with our minds once again.

"So," I breathed, my heart taking flight in a way that I had never before thought possible, "does this mean...?" I leaned over upon his shoulders tentatively, still not used to the fact that I was suddenly allowed to even do this. He seemed just as unsure of it as well, but he brought an arm up to hold my side nevertheless, bringing a smile to both of our faces.

"Only if you want it to, Arthur," he replied, looking back up at the stars above us, still swirling away.

God, if he said my name like that, I would want anything and everything that came my way. I'd follow him to the ends of the Earth and beyond, this guy who had charmed my heart. And it was apparently an irreversible hex as well. How convenient.

As a reply, I gathered up my courage, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I leaned up and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, feeling his lip muscles tense up in a way that could only have been a smile.

"Good," he replied, squeezing my shoulder and leaning into me. I breathed in his scent, which was a little reminiscent of evergreens and a lot reminiscent of absolute perfection. Just the way I liked it.

"But you know, green or silver, gold or crimson, Arthur," Alfred murmured, smiling that lopsided smile I loved so much, "that doesn't affect us. We'll be just like the stars." He winked. "That is to say, we can be any color we want to be."

Alfred pulled me closer to him and snuggled his nose into my hair.

"And I don't know about you, but I think we're even beyond those petty single-cell colors. We can be chromatic, like the rainbow."

I chuckled, settling into his arms as I watched the show transpire above. The light warmed my face, but not nearly as his superbly comfortable shoulder was.

"What, in other words, you mean we're gay?" I replied, trying to make a joke out of this moment so that my whole body wouldn't burn up from love and the small traces of disbelief that was still lingering about.

Alfred laughed brightly. "If you take it that way, then yes, Arthur. Oh yes."

He kissed me in the forehead.

"Very much so."

Author's Comments:

This just deteriorated. So hard. As the night progressed, I could barely even look at this anymore, so I don't quite know what to do with it. I can't edit it over, since I'm so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open. It's just akstljatjaskjtkasjta.

I will go lie down now. And sleep. And dream about USUK that I would love to see written, but probably never ought to try writing myself. OTL

Happy reading!

- Galythia