Chapter Text
It’s Friday evening, and Will Graham would really much rather be with his dogs right now. In fact, you could probably insert any time, and that would be true.
Instead, he found himself in Head Auror Jack Crawford’s office, being so gracefully informed that he was being given the year off to get his head back on straight.
“It won’t be forever, Will. The administration thinks you need a break, and frankly, I agree.”
“I have no interest in teaching, Jack! I’m meant to be out there. I got him for you. What could the administration possibly have to complain about?”
“You got too close. I let you get too close.”
“I only got close to see him better. Would you rather him still be out there?!”
“You used an Unforgivable, Will!”
“He would have killed his daughter. There was no other way.”
Jack’s eyes hardened suddenly. “Was there? Or were you so caught up in his head space, that you couldn’t see any other way?”
Will looked away, eyes darkening like rich veins of lapis lazuli.
“Regardless of why, you’re lucky the administration is forgiving the incident at all. If you want my opinion, take the year gratefully —without complaint— take a break, and then come back with fresh eyes. Don’t mess up your record, Will. You can still end up in this chair one day.”
I don’t even know if I want to anymore .
“If I’m gone, who’ll catch the Ripper for you?”
If Will hit a weak point, Jack did not reveal it. Will both admired and loathed his sudden bout of self-control.
“You can’t catch the Ripper for me if you’re fired.”
Will bit his lip hard, trying his best to rein back the surge of magic that was enticing him to see his boss’s true intentions laid out before him like the blueprints of another murder scene. He only partially succeeded.
“Fine, Jack. I’ll do it. May I please be dismissed now?”
Jack ignored his sarcasm. “Monday morning, 7 AM. Don’t be late. Chilton’s expecting you. Now go.”
Grumbling, Will left Jack’s office, heading back to pack up his desk.
Jack would be knocking up his office door at Hogwarts the minute the first body hit the floor. Teaching was just a formality— a cover story.
Will could handle it for a year. Then he’d be back where he belonged.
Chilton’s office was exactly the ostentatious disaster Will always imagined it would be. Degrees draped on the wall by tapestries and expensive oddities. Overcompensation at its finest.
“Auror Graham, how lovely it is to finally see you here,” the man purred, resting his head on the backside of his hand and leaning forward.
“I’m not sorry to say, I don’t feel the same.”
The man ignored the slight as he was wont to do. “How has the Auror office been treating you?”
“Well enough.”
“And Head Auror Crawford?”
“As he would any Auror.”
“But you’re not any Auror, are you, Will?”
“I would prefer you call me Mr. Graham or Auror Graham, Headmaster Chilton.”
“Are you always so taciturn?”
“When I can help it.”
The edges of Frederick’s mouth drooped like day old flowers.
“I have called one of my associates here to help ease your way. Dr. Lecter, please come in.”
The door gently swung open, and a man strode in.
Will attempted to avoid eye contact, but he found them inevitably drawn to the other set.
They were sangria red, like a goblet of wine or blood.
For a second, it almost seemed like Professor Lecter was surprised. But as quickly as the emotion came, it was swept away back into the smooth marble of the other man’s expression.
“Auror Graham, meet Dr. Lecter. He teaches potions and currently serves as the Head of Slytherin.”
Lecter held his hand out. With great reluctance, Will moved his own to meet the other.
However, Lecter didn’t shake his hand. Instead, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the underside of Will’s wrist.
Startled and secretly flustered, Will snatched his hand back and glared darkly at the other man, who simply smiled.
“Charmed, Auror Graham.”
“Don’t you think that was a little inappropriate, Dr. Lecter?”
“My apologies if you felt that way, Mr. Graham. It’s a simple pureblood greeting. I would think you’d be familiar with it, considering your mother’s family.”
“I don’t keep in contact with my mother’s family, Dr. Lecter.”
“I suppose they see you as the black sheep of their lot then,” Lecter commented. “A dismally inaccurate view.”
Curiosity sparked despite his reservations. “Oh? And how do you see me, Dr. Lecter?”
“The lone wolf who finds his loyalty belonging to safeguarding the flock rather than to the intimacies of his own nature.”
“Gentlemen,” Chilton interrupted, tired of being ignored. “Now that you’ve been acquainted, I have some things to explain to Mr. Graham.”
Lecter smiled— too many teeth — “Headmaster Chilton, I believe I could provide Mr. Graham with the needed knowledge.”
Chilton deflated.
“Well, alright then. I am rather busy today. You both are dismissed. I need to get back to work.”
Lecter smiled again and led Will out with him by hand.
As soon as they left Chilton’s office, Will snatched his hand back.
Lecter stared at him amused.
“Stop that, Hannibal,” Will ordered.
Lecter paused, before smiling a little warmer. “Of course, William.”
The name usage took Will by surprise.
“How do you know my first name? I don’t believe Chilton ever said it in front of you.”
“I might ask the same,” Lecter said in response.
Will scoffed. It was simple, he knew it from… from… from...
He blinked. There was a gaping void where an answer should be.
Will shook it off, trying not to show how the absence disturbed him.
“Have you published any papers?”
“Some in the field of medicine and potion crafting.”
Will almost sighed in relief. “That explains it.”
“And to answer your question, there are few who don't know of Auror Graham, especially after the Shrike. The Daily Prophet made sure of that.”
Will grimaced. “Tasteless.”
“Do you have problems with taste?”
“My thoughts are not often tasty.”
Lecter smiled. “The article was rather vulgar, but overall, a fleeting message on the mind of the populace. It shouldn't have a permanent impact on your public image.”
“Thanks, but your reassurance is unnecessary. Where are we going right now?”
Lecter smiled again, as if he found Will’s incivility endearing.
“I thought I’d show you your office space and classrooms. Come along now, Will. The rotating staircase won’t stay in its position for long.”
“This is Professor William Graham,” Chilton said, amplifying his voice with a simple augmenting charm. “He will be teaching Transfiguration this year, taking Professor Olmstead’s place”
Will stood up with a wince, trying to ignore how the banquet hall suddenly fell quiet.
He wondered if he had spilled any food on his robes or something equally embarrassing. He subtly looked down and noticed in relief he hadn’t. These were his best robes, though he would be the first to admit they were a bit antiquated. Jack had bought them for him when he had graduated from auror training some 8 years ago.
Dr. Lecter started the clapping, which startled everyone out of their stillness. He was joined by the rest of the hall rather quickly.
After spending most of yesterday with the man, Will had, perhaps, a slightly better opinion of him.
Yes, he was a little pretentious and stuffy, but he was startlingly intelligent and Will resonated with his darker sense of humour.
“Thank you,” Chilton said, dismissing the applause.
He went on to give the compulsory warnings, which Will tuned out. Instead, he watched Hannibal, who was fiddling with his weirdly intricate robelinks.
Feathers, beads, and antlers, like a dream catcher.
Hannibal caught Will looking and moved his hand closer.
Hesitantly, Will reached out to trace the feather, fingers gently stroking the vane.
Hannibal smiled.
There was something about the charm that seemed so familiar. It was like a fly fishing lur—
“Ahem, Professor Lecter, Professor Graham. I do believe we’re standing up now,” Chilton said, the amplifying charm still on.
The students laughed and Will stood up quickly, overturning his goblet of water.
Hannibal caught the goblet before it fell and gently set it right.
“So clumsy, mylimasis ,” he said with a smirk after gracefully standing.
Will didn’t deign to reply, but something about the word Hannibal used seemed familiar.
A memory seeped into his mind like ink seeping into a page.
It meant something like… like darling?
Will almost knocked his water on Hannibal again.
Will hadn’t necessarily thought his role as teacher would be easy , but he hadn’t half expected it to be so crazy.
“Professor Graham, is it true you’re part veela?”
“I fail to see what that has to do with what you will be learning in class this year, Mr. Froideveaux.”
“But is it true?”
Will frowned, but before he could speak, another voice chimed in.
“Professor Graham, is it true you’re a registered animagus?”
Will turned to the new speaker, Mr. Tier, and nodded.
“Animagi is an advanced form of transfiguration. You won’t learn how to perform it in your years here, but you will certainly learn about it.”
“Could you demonstrate it for us!”
Will thought for a minute before he nodded. He took off his reading glasses and stood still.
A blink of the eye later and a silver-gray wolf stood in his place, bright blue eyes looking out at the class.
The students oohed and aahed.
Suddenly, there was a soft knock and a gentle clearing of the throat at the open door.
Will quickly switched back to his human form. He sat on his desk.
“Professor Lecter, was there something you needed?”
“I hate to interrupt, but I do believe it is time for you to release your students, Professor Graham. Class ended a little over ten minutes ago.”
Will flushed dark pink, looking frantically at the clock.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Lecter. You all are free to go. Remember to complete the required reading by next class.”
The students filtered out, but Lecter remained.
“Was there something else you needed, Dr. Lecter?”
“I would prefer that you call me Hannibal when we’re not with the students, Will.”
“Well, was there something else you needed, Hannibal?”
“Your animagus form.”
“Ah, I suppose it is a wolf, after all,” Will said, smiling a little.
“Do you remember when you first learned to do it?”
“I was registered my first year after Hogwarts.”
“Was that when you first completed the transformation.”
Will paused, thinking. “No… I believe it was some time during my fifth year? I can’t quite remember.”
“One would think it a memorable occasion.”
“There was an accident near the end of my seventh year. While the knowledge I learned is intact, a lot of my memories of this place and the people have scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind.”
“Perhaps not so permanent as the scattering of seeds,” Dr. Lecter suggested. “Your memory loss may be like the shattering of a teacup or some other piece of fine china. Fixable with the right bit of magic.”
Will frowned at the audacity of the good doctor. “While that may seem to be the case, you should know that the length of time between the breaking of the object and the issued repair spell significantly affects the quality of the repaired item. All of the pieces cannot come back together.”
“That is due to the loss of dust and other fine particles to the environment. But unlike in the material world, all of the pieces must still exist somewhere in your mind. They simply must be put back into place.”
“Perhaps,” Will agreed. “But I am not too hopeful. It has been ten years since my proverbial teacup shattered.”
“Quite a while to go without visiting.”
“Not really. I was caught up in my auror training, then in my job. I never found the time…”
“You never felt curious about what you forgot?”
“Even if I did, there was no way of seeking answers. The healers at St. Mungo’s told me that they took away my memories for a reason. If I recovered them, there might be unforeseeable consequences.”
“Would the risk be worth it?”
“I don’t know yet. Probably not.”
Lecter frowned.
“Well, if you ever need assistance with them, come see me. I believe there are some spells or potions that may be of assistance.”
“Thank you for the offer, Hannibal, but I think I’d really rather not.”
“No?”
“I hesitate to open Pandora’s urn without full knowledge of the consequences.”
“The urn nestled hope beneath all of its terrible monsters and catastrophes. Wasn’t the discovery of that delicate impulse enough to justify the release of calamity?”
“You have to consider there was a reason Hope was bundled up with all the baddies,” Will said with a scoff.
“And what would be that?”
“Hope is the cruelest of emotions. She simply wants, and in doing so she creates unrealistic expectations.”
“Do you have any unrealistic expectations, Will?”
“I wouldn’t say I was the one with unrealistic expectations here, Doc.”
The other professor took the barb with a chuckle, amber eyes flickering with amusement and some other indefinable feeling.
“You can never know what’s waiting for you in the halls of your memory until you look, Will. I urge you to think on it a little more. It’s a standing invitation.”
Will nodded reluctantly. He supposed he was something of a magical and medical quandary for the good doctor.
“I am throwing a dinner party today for all the professors. Everyone is eager to meet the newest addition to the faculty. Will you be able to make it?”
“I don’t really do parties, Hannibal.”
“It is merely an intimate gathering of friends and acquaintances. Only about 10 staff members. Are you sure?”
Usually, Will would decline again without a second thought. But he had yet to really meet any of the other professors, and knowing Jack, he may have to ask a favor of one of them sooner or later.
“Only 10, you said? Perhaps I could drop by…”
“It starts at 7 pm in the astronomy tower. I look forward to seeing you there.” Hannibal turned to leave.
“Wait, umm, is it formal wear?”
“Will that be a problem?”
Will shook his head slowly, thinking.
“Your robes from yesterday will suffice, mylimasis.”
Will groaned. “Please stop calling me that. People will get the wrong idea.”
“And what’s the wrong idea?”
Will huffed, turning pink again.
“I have to go teach my next class.”
Will threw on his robes from yesterday, fixing them up with a quick cleaning and ironing charm.
They looked a little dull.
Wondering why he took the effort, Will modified them, turning them eggshell blue with a color-changing charm. The black embroidery of flowering vines turned gold.
When he was younger, his grandmother had three rules for parties.
Pretty looks. Pretty manners. Pretty words.
He sort of scraped by on the first, and his empathy and knack for mimicry meant the second was usually not a problem unless he was decidedly making an attempt to insult someone.
But the third…
Will had always failed the third rule.
Turning his back to the mirror, Will lifted his curls and saw the dark tattoo etched into his skin. A ravenstag. He had no memory of getting it, but it served almost as a touchstone of sort.
He usually kept his hair long to cover it. It attracted a little too much attention uncovered. Tracing the roses blooming from the antlers of the stag, Will let his curls down and raggedly brushed them apart with his hands.
Eh, good enough.
Will arrived exactly on time, but he still found himself the last to enter.
“Mr. Graham,” Chilton cried from one end of the room, calling everyone’s attention to him, “I didn’t know you were invited.”
Will winced. Hannibal’s eyes darkened for a second, before they turned to him and warmed.
“I am happy to see you here, Will. Let me introduce you to the other faculty members.”
Will nodded and followed.
They stopped before a familiar figure.
“This is Miss Beverly Katz. She teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
Beverly shot him a warm grin. He knew her from his Auror academy. They had gotten along like a house on fire.
“Hey, Pretty Boy. How’ve you been?” she called.
Will groaned at the revived nickname. “Not again, Bev.”
“I’m afraid so,” Beverly said shooting him a wicked grin.
“Are you familiar with each other?” Hannibal asked.
“We both went to Auror academy together. I was one year ahead of Will, but we graduated together, then Graham fell off the face of the planet.”
Will blushed.
“I’m sorry. Crawford kept me a little busy.”
“I heard. Well, you’re here now, so we have to go out for drinks some time. Okay?”
“Okay,” Will agreed easily.
Hannibal led him along again until they had stopped in front of a rather beautiful woman. She seemed soft, yet so bright— like the moon.
“William, this is Alana Bloom. She teaches Charms.”
“How fitting,” Will blurted out.
Alana laughed.
“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Graham. I hope to see you around at one of Hannibal’s parties again.”
Will nodded, afraid of making a fool of himself again if he opened his mouth.
Hannibal continued guiding him forward, a little more heavy-handedly this time. Will didn’t notice, lost in thought.
After Hannibal had introduced him to everyone, Will made his way back to Beverly and Alana.
They seemed like the only two people who wouldn’t drive him crazy.
“How do you know Hannibal?” Alana asked.
Will laughed at the odd question. “The same way I know you. We’re both professors. Granted, I did meet him first.”
“You don’t know him from before?” Alana asked confused.
“No. Why would I?”
Alana frowned. “No reason I suppose. You both just seem so close.”
Will scrunched his eyebrows together, confused. “Not really. I mean, we’re the only two professors in Slytherin this year, so-”
Beverly suddenly laughed.
Will, Alana, and half the guests turned to look at her.
“Oh, Will. You’re as oblivious as ever.”
After a few more minutes of mingling, Hannibal announced that dinner was ready.
Everyone made their way to the table.
Will wondered if it would be inappropriate to duck out now and go back to his room. He could use the floo network to go home and see his dogs.
“Will, please sit here,” Hannibal requested, gesturing to the chair on his immediate right.
Will nodded reluctantly, making his way to indicated seat.
Hannibal generously filled his wine glass and proceeded to seat the rest of the guests.
All that Will got from Hannibal’s long, eloquent speech about the meal was that he was eating heart.
“To a reunion of friends,” Hannibal toasted, lifting his glass.
They downed the wine, and something in Will’s head burned.
Hannibal locked eyes with his own as they drank. They swallowed in unison.
Will was taken aback by the intense intimacy trapped between them— light refracting off two adjoining prisms in a dark room.
He couldn’t breathe. It was like the universe had suddenly contracted and was bearing down on the both of them. Something in Hannibal’s eyes flickered to life— like the something at the bottom of Pandora’s urn. Will was utterly helpless to it— like an azure butterfly pinned to a board.
Their eyes didn’t break apart until someone spoke to Hannibal, calling his attention away.
After dinner, Will helped transfigure the table and chairs into a set of plush couches. Belatedly, he realized they lacked the refined elegance most of Hannibal’s party carried. They fell closer to the type Will would keep in his own house— the kind dogs could easily scrabble on and “butterbeer” could be swigged on. He groaned.
“Just what we expect from our sophisticated Transfiguration professor,” Beverly chortled.
Will flushed. He subtly glanced at Hannibal, but the man didn’t make any comment or ask Will to retransfigure them. Always so polite . Will wondered if he should offer, but the moment passed.
Hannibal served sweet wine and some fancy cake for dessert. The description sort of washed over Will. He had perhaps drunk one too many glasses of wine.
Eventually, Will reached his social interaction limit for the day, and quietly moved to the balcony of the astronomy tower, hoping no one would notice his absence.
After five minutes, the creak of the door told him his hope had been in vain.
He could guess who it was. He spoke without turning around.
“Hannibal. I just needed some fresh air. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
“It’s hard to let it slip by when there are only ten guests.”
Will winced, raking a hand through his curls nervously, accidentally revealing his tattoo.
“Well you see—”
Will turned and Hannibal was suddenly right in front of him. He wore a strange look in the crevices of his usually flawless marble.
Hannibal lifted his hand forward to touch the nape of his neck.
The last person who had tried had nearly burned their hand off when they had accidentally brushed against his tattoo.
“Hannibal, wait!”
Will’s cry was in vain.
Hannibal’s hand went right for the tattoo, but instead of the burning, Will felt an odd sort of tingling warmth. Pleasure crashed over him like a wave.
“ Oh ,” he said stumbling.
Hannibal snaked his other hand around his waist to catch Will as he fell.
Will was pulled close and arranged just so. He felt Hannibal’s chin on the top of his head.
Hannibal whispered something in Lithuanian as he traced the stag’s antler with his thumb.
Will could hardly think straight.
“Let me take you back to your room, mylimasis. You can barely stand.”
“And whose fault is that?” Will murmured.
“I would take full credit, but I believe those glasses of wine have done a number on you as well.”
Will would protest, but he was still a little drunk. And besides, all the man had done was invade his personal space. Hardly a crime, even if it usually made Will intensely uncomfortable.
Hannibal led him back down, arm still gently around his waist.
They walked wordlessly past the other guests who looked incredibly curious.
Hannibal brought him back to his room.
“Drink water and take rest.”
“Tomorrow’s going to be horrid regardless,” Will grumbled.
Hannibal conjured up a glass of water and handed it to Will with a wordless command.
Will rolled his eyes, but obediently drank.
“Here,” Hannibal said, gently pushing him on to the bed.
Will instantly felt his senses sharpen suspiciously, but Hannibal only leaned down and took off his shoes for him. Then, Hannibal reached forward and gently rolled down his socks. His hands lingered on the curve of Will’s ankle and his arch.
Will blushed darkly and lifted his legs from Hannibal’s grasp, wrapping his hands around his knees protectively.
“Go back to your party, Hannibal.”
Hannibal merely reached forward and brushed his hand against Will’s forehead.
“I mean it,” Will said, pushing Hannibal’s arm away.
“I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable in any capacity tonight, Will. Your mark is remarkably beautiful and my instinctive reaction to it briefly took over. I’ll leave you now.”
Hannibal exited the room, carefully closing the door.
Will burrowed under the comforter. He doubted Hannibal could ever really lose control of himself. Yet, the man hadn’t looked at him or touched him with any real intent. It was simply to look— simply to touch. There was no agenda. Will couldn’t make head or tails of it.
He would eventually figure it out. He always did. For now, he slept.
From there, Hannibal and Will grew closer like two almond trees that slowly, by leaning into each other, intertwined together.
Hannibal listened when Will spoke, quiet and attentive. He could effortlessly unravel what Will was feeling and knew how to pull him away and bring him to his dogs when he was overstimulated. Of course the dogs loved him too, though that was more likely due to the sausages he had brought with him the first day than through any genial bonding activities.
Will never had to worry about the authenticity of his own feelings with the other man. His emotions were subdued— muted in a way that Will found relaxing. There was a general air of tranquility that surrounded him that Will desperately clung onto.
When speaking, they followed each other’s trains of thought so effortlessly, Will sometimes found it ridiculous. Their conversations would make no sense from an outsider’s point of view, but the spiralling connections between streams of consciousness felt so natural between them that talking was like an extension of their own subconscious thinking.
They graded together, ate together, made lesson plans together.
They discussed all manners of things: spell creation, ancient runic texts, and even Freddie Lounds’ recent articles in The Daily Prophet.
Will had worried at first that his rougher nature would eventually drive off the more cultured man, but it didn’t. It was like they were slowly rubbing off on each other to fit together better.
Will accidentally began reflecting some of Hannibal’s more upper class tendencies and Hannibal’s speech slowly became littered with expressions of the vernacular.
They had only known each other for several weeks, but it felt more like years. Hannibal was the closest thing he had ever had to a best friend.
That’s called the ‘click,’ Willie , he remembered his father saying.
With Hannibal, Will, who usually spent so much time in his own headspace that he was a near abysmal conversation partner, found the intricacies of his thoughts and mind opening up to Hannibal like jasmines blooming in the night.
When Will tried to explain the sensation, Hannibal had merely cradled the back of Will’s head, thumbing his ear. “We share a mind palace, mylimasis. I know the feeling intimately.”
As they grew closer, Hannibal’s tactility increased exponentially.
Will found the sensation of actually liking someone so odd that he let it slip.
Will was usually hyper-aware of any physical contact, but for some reason, his body just didn’t register Hannibal. At all.
It wasn’t a bad thing, just strange.
He worried at first that he was losing his fast reflexes that had made him so good at dueling and hunting down criminals, but the sensation seemed exclusive to Hannibal.
He could be grading for hours before noticing that their legs had somehow tangled together, or he could be speaking to Hannibal at a meal in their office and not even notice that Hannibal had begun feeding him as well as himself while perfectly maintaining their conversation.
Frequent brushes against his tattoo became commonplace, as did hands across waists and elbows.
It was like the other man had settled under his skin.
In a manner of speaking, Hannibal had become his touchstone.
But maybe (just maybe) that was okay?
“Your students can’t stop talking about you,” Beverly said while stacking her papers.
He had wandered down to her office to ask her about meshing their curriculum for a week to mimic the interdisciplinary nature of modern career fields. He and Hannibal had discussed it at length, and the other man seemed to think it was a wonderful idea.
“All good things I hope.”
“Oh, yes.” Beverly raised her eyebrows suggestively. “Half of them are sweet on you, the other half are sweet on the idea of Hannibal and you.”
“Hannibal and I? What about us?”
“The fact that there’s an us.”
Will scowled, but it was severely undermined by the rosy flush that had crept up his cheekbones.
“There is no us. Hannibal and I are good friends. That’s all.”
Beverly smirked. “Oh ho, very good friends indeed.”
Will raised an eyebrow.
“Tell me, Will. Do ‘good friends’ put their hands all over each other and call each other pet names in foreign languages?”
Will flushed darker.
“Trust me, he’s sweet on you.”
“You think so?” Will mumbled.
“I know so, buttercup. Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about? And are we still on for this Friday?”
Will was mostly able to shake off Beverly’s words. He had a good thing going with Hannibal and he didn’t want to lose it for anything. Certainly not a silly, insignificant little crush.
Maybe he blushed a tiny bit more when Hannibal led him by his hand. Maybe he would occasionally blank out when the light hit Hannibal’s cheekbones in a certain, very attractive away.
But it didn’t mean anything.
One day, he dropped by the potion classroom to drop off a stack of graded papers Hannibal had left in the office.
Hannibal was standing in the front by a cauldron. He smiled when Will entered and gestured for Will to come to the front.
“What do you smell, Professor Graham?”
“Am I your class demonstration for today?” Will joked before leaning down to waft the iridescent potion. The scent immediately drew him in and he arched closer to inhale more of the pearlescent smoke.
“Sandalwood, cedarwood, and something gingery? It’s kind of warm and musky.” Will frowned pensively. “A bit like your cologne actually. How about you? What do you smell?”
Hannibal looked like the cat who had gotten the cream and eaten it too.
“Seville oranges and the saltwater sea.”
“Oh. That’s- uh- nice?”
Will examined the potion again with narrowed eyes. Something clicked into place and he froze.
“Hannibal, is this amortentia?!”
“The names of love potions are often derived from Latin. While tentia is Latin for held, amortentia is unique in the fact that it also has both French and Roman roots. Amour is French for love. Amor is also the Roman goddess of love. Perhaps the most unique aspect of amortentia is its ability to adapt the scent of what one finds irresistible.”
Will turned a violet shade of red. In an attempt to preserve his dignity, he tried his utmost not to make his departure a scene , but he knew he failed when the classroom door slammed violently shut behind him.
He could barely believe that Hannibal had done that to him in front of the entire class. He had made a fool out of him and his feelings.
This is what happens when you let yourself be friends with someone. You were not built for that kind of closeness.
He had scarcely walked five steps before he felt an arm on his shoulder, pulling him back.
“Don’t you have a class to teach?!” he spat out, whirling around.
“Will, what’s wrong?” Hannibal asked innocently. Will wanted to tear his throat out with his teeth.
“You embarrassed me in front of your 6th years.”
“Everyone feels such emotions as attraction and love, Will. Even gods are subject to its whims, and are we not created in their image? It’s hardly embarrassing.”
“You asked me a very private question in front of your class.”
“Are you uncomfortable with them knowing the scent of your desires?”
Will shifted uncomfortably.
“Maybe I’m uncomfortable with you knowing.”
Hannibal stepped forward.
“Have you considered that I, too, revealed to you who I desire?”
Hannibal took another step forward and leaned in. He inhaled. “You carry the aroma of the ocean and bitter oranges.”
Hannibal took another step closer and pressed their foreheads together.
Their breaths mingled in the narrow space between their mouths.
All thought ceased.
Will hyper-focused on Hannibal’s lips, right in front of him.
Few things bloomed as organically as the resulting moments.
He met Hannibal halfway.
Their first kiss was chaste. Just a gentle rendezvous of mouths.
Slowly— tentatively— their bodies found each other.
Will pulled Hannibal in and kissed him again, more passionately this time, twining his arms around Hannibal in an embrace.
Hannibal bit his lower lip hard and Will tasted iron. He gasped and Hannibal pressed his advantage, swallowing Will’s thoughts with his tongue and teeth.
It felt like an epiphany— like everything Will never knew he was missing. And suddenly, he couldn’t imagine not spending every second of everyday kissing Hannibal.
Hannibal leaned back, noting Will’s dilated pupils and swollen, red lips with pride. He leaned in again and traced Will’s dark curly lashes with his lips.
“I would love to continue this, beloved, but I best be returning to my students before they do something drastic.”
“What we just did was drastic.”
Hannibal smiled smugly. “Was it? I rather thought we had been building up to it for a while now.”
Will dove in and kissed the stupid smirk off Hannibal’s face before he whirled around and began walking off. He looked over his shoulder at Hannibal, who was staring at him dumbstruck.
“I’ll see you later, babe.”
Their students had, perhaps, the weirdest reaction to his and Hannibal’s new intimacy.
“Professor Graham, are you and Professor Lecter together?”
The whispers ceased and everyone seemed focused on his answer. If only they could be so focused when he was lecturing to them.
“I really don’t see how that is any of your business, Mr. Froideveaux.”
Sighs of disappointment and the chink of coins exchanging hands flooded the air.
When Will told Hannibal about it later, he laughed.
“Has your class asked you ?” Will huffed.
“Perhaps.”
“And what did you tell them?”
“It was an impolite question, mylimasis. I didn’t respond. But truthfully, I didn’t know the answer myself. Are we dating?”
Will flushed. “Y-yes, I suppose.”
Hannibal smiled, snake-like.
“You suppose ? Well, I suppose I better do something about that. Don’t you think so, teacup?”
Will blushed darker at the sobriquet. He bit his lip and tried to compose himself.
Hannibal pinned the frankly adorable reaction up in his wing of their mind palace to return to with watercolor.
For now, he reached forward to pay homage to his love.