26th December, 1888 — Ari's House, Bartonburg

Tomorrow. Today, just about, if he paused to look at the clock.

And then everything would change. Not quite in the way anyone imagined - but his life would look different, there was no denying that. His life already looked different, had been taking new shape over the last month. Zelda wasn't speaking to him. Ben, for some ungodly reason, had gone off to Ireland for work and Ari didn't even know if he had made it back yet. It felt a little as though he were alienating everyone he knew at once, only he knew this was a better way to do it than any of the alternatives his life offered.  

Or so he would keep telling himself.

It wasn't the end of the world. It was a good thing, really. He could not be ungrateful about something he had brought upon himself.

Naturally, nevertheless, he couldn't sleep; he wasn't sure he could even face going to bed and beckoning on tomorrow. Not that he was succeeding in reading anything, either, the words blurring into long indecipherable waves in the candlelight. Nerves, maybe. Anxieties about what would be. Even this feeling, this safe harbour of home, would be different from tomorrow, when it became Miss Tweedy's home too.  

The house was almost unbearably clean, even for Ari. He'd been glad to see his housekeeper go home for the night, after all the fussing she had made, but the last few hours had been eerily quiet, and Ari too agitated to enjoy them.

Until a knock came at the front door, not so shrill as the doorbell but still seeing Ari's book slip off his lap in his surprise. His heartbeat thudded as he stooped to pick it up on his way to edge open the front door in trepidation, wondering whether it might be, at the eleventh hour, Dionisia come to change her mind.

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This was mad. Mad, mad, mad. His heart thumped in his chest as he ran at full speed. Being quite athletic, it wouldn't have been trouble to run to Ari's house from his. It was the added urgency and the panic of forgetting that night one more time that bit relentlessly at his heels like a rabid dog.

What was he was hoping would happen? It was a ridiculous and childish dream if Ben thought that Ari would ruin his and Dionisia's reputation by calling off the wedding - and for what? A failed romance that might not have been if it weren't for Ben's absolute pig-headedness? It was too late to turn back now. He was at Ari's door. How strange that it looked more vibrant than ever, yet it was the same door that Ben had knocked on countless times. This time it was different.

He raised a hand to knock. Centimeters away from the door, Ben paused. If he left, right now, Ari and Dio would have a wedding, free of complications (or so Ben thought) and go on to have children. Did Ari even feel this way towards him still? Did he feel the way Ben felt about....about Ari....did he feel that same way towards women too? The questions hung in the air, questions he would only have answered if he knocked.

Before he knew it, he'd done it. He exhaled a breath he hadn't known he was holding and he doubled over, his uninjured hand supporting his person on the door's frame, the injured (and bleeding) one clutching at a stitch in his side. The door opened and Ben found himself facing Ari.

He met those grey eyes and somehow he could feel the threads that attached him and Ari together slowly pulling at the seams. What fate had in store for them tonight, Ben wasn't entirely sure he wanted to find out now.

Even though the time between when he'd dashed out of his house and appeared at Ari's wasn't that long (though it would have been shorter had he not been a doofus and left his wand at home), Ben hadn't figured out what he was going to say. "I remember." Being a recent amnesiac, there were a lot of things he could have remembered, he'd have to be more specific. So he said (wheezed, rather, considering how out of breath he was) the first thing that he could think of.

"Many happy returns!"

....well, if he hadn't felt like killing himself already, he most likely would have done so then and there.

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Not Dionisia, then. Most emphatically not Dionisia.

"Ben?" Ari said, astonished. If Ben had been back from work, Ari hadn't seen him since, and had not, in truth, expected to - whatever Ben had written in his note upon leaving to Ireland, Ari wasn't sure that his change of heart had been so absolute, nor that his friend had any intention of attending the wedding. He still hadn't said as much to Ari's face, which made Ari think -

Until now. Hadn't said as much to Ari's face, until now. Granted, this had not been the way Ari had expected to hear these good wishes, spewed at him in the doorway in the middle of the night, with Ben so out of breath one would think he had sprinted here to say it. (If he were honest, he hadn't expected Ben to really have forgiven him at all, for not telling him sooner.)

So Ari might have been relieved Ben seemed on board, at last, about the wedding - given it was tomorrow, after all. Only none of this made any sense at all, and he surveyed the Auror with a look of wild incredulity, looking him up and down as though he might only have hallucinated him here, out of tiredness, anxiety...

Ben looked startlingly wild, himself, and too intent to have come here just to say that. Ari cleared his throat, wide-eyed. "Thank you... are you bleeding?" Ben had a hand pressed to his side, and even in the dim light brimming out from his hallway, he could see that his hand was coated with red.  

Suddenly this made a great deal more sense, Ari supposed. "Merlin, Ben," he breathed, shaking his head in absolute bewilderment as he pulled the door wider open and stepped back to let him through. What was Ben doing? "You'd better come in."

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Hearing his name on Ari's lips - Merlin, could such a sound make one melt into a puddle? Ben nearly forgot why he was there, until Ari inquired about his injury. He glanced down and blinked, as he had barely felt the bite of his wound until it was called into question. He peered up at his friend from his doubled over position and gave him a meek but traditionally cocky grin. "Really, Ari." he said, his voice hoarse from running. "You can't be surprised that I'd show up injured, can you?"

Nevertheless, he stepped in - well, staggered, considering the stitch in his side was still stabbing annoyingly at his ribs - and surveyed the room. It looked like Ari had sent is housekeeper home for the night - everything was in it's place, peaceful and quiet. As if it weren't about to be thrown into oblivion.

He looked down at his hand, wondering how he'd explain it to Ari. How did one tell their best friend that they'd remembered a long forgotten night that was supposed to have never happened in history (damn you, leap years), and that could change their friendship for better or for worse?

"I see you've been throwing the best stag party in the history of the century." he quipped, his nerves getting the best of him. Remain positive. Don't tell him just yet. a voice told him. What would Ari even do anyways? Declare his love for you again and ruin his and his future wife's futures? It was this dreaded seed of doubt that kept Ben from putting himself in the same position that Ari had put himself in that February night long ago.

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Ari only shook his head in exasperated acceptance. No, he couldn't be surprised, not one bit.

Fortunately, as Ben moved towards him and into the house, Ari realised that the blood wasn't coming from his side, and merely a gash on his hand. He must have only been doubled-over from being out of breath then, as though he'd run here. It was a relief, probably, that Ben hadn't been... stabbed, or something (Ari wouldn't put it past him), but the confusion flared up again as Ari reconsidered the urgency of his arrival. Surely even Ben could manage to bandage up a cut on his hand himself?

He seemed in decent spirits, at any rate, and himself again, willing to smooth over the last proper conversation they had had, which had been about the wedding.

Ben's next remark wasn't far off that topic, either - and as grateful as Ari was to see him, it was the one thing he would rather not talk about. He would have to, though; the morning and the marriage were both too close to be avoided. It was lucky, at least, that Ben - this Ben, back from Ireland - still didn't seem to know the truth, wouldn't know how much a farce the marriage was set to be, wouldn't realise just how bittersweet it was to see him now, all of nights.

Ari followed him back inside, glancing at Ben's hand to one of the drawers which usually had a bandage or two, perhaps a vial of dittany. "Don't tell me you're surprised," Ari returned, echoing Ben with a little lopsided grin. They knew each other well enough by now not to be surprised by each other. A party wasn't particularly in Ari's wheelhouse or his comfort zone, and Ben knew that. Besides, Ben would have been invited.

If Ari had felt in the least like celebrating, obviously.

"Lucky for you, anyway," he added, still working on the assumption that Ben had only come over because he was bleeding, although he had the niggling sense that there was something odd about this visit, something that he might be missing. He might glean something more from looking directly at Ben's face... but instead he paced back over to him and concentrated first on his hand, taking it in his own and turning it over to look better at the cut, how clean it was and how deep it ran. Sharp, perhaps from glass. "What've you done to yourself, then?"

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As Ari threw back Ben's response, he had to laugh. Ari was always soft spoken, however for as long as Ben had known the man, it was still easy to be thrown off guard when he was being cheeky. Ben chuckled and shrugged. "Touché," he remarked, the last of gasps from his midnight sprint having finally passed from his lungs. Now the only thing that remained was the beating of his heart echoing against his ribcage.

Ben opened his mouth, about to inquire as to why Ari had made that comment about him being lucky - his wits were clearly not with him this evening, so everything might have taken a bit longer than normal to process. He was about to turn back to glance around the room when Ari's hand caught his and he was halted mid-movement. Halted seemed a rather flimsy word for it however, seeing as the whole of Ben's body froze as if he'd been hit with a Body Bind curse.

All his attention was focused on Ari's hand as it flitted expertly over the wound, just as it had done the many times Ben had come to him with injuries. Somewhere in the back of Ben's mind he made a mental note (if they ever got out of this evening) to ask how Ari had remained surprisingly grey-hair free all these years.

"I fell." were the only words that Ben could really get out of his mouth. His dark green eyes were focused on what Ari was doing, as if every nerve in his body was hyper-sensitized. Get a grip, you prat. Ben beseeched his muscles to move; relax. Thank Merlin they followed a few agonizing seconds behind the signal his brain sent to the rest of his body.

He slackened his arm as if it were a regular Tuesday afternoon, and ran the opposite hand into his hair and laughed. "As usual, I was just being my clumsy self!" His eyes twinkled at Ari. "Imagine that. Me, being clumsy!" That's right, just as if you were caught taking cookies from the cookie jar, you coward. If there were any a time that Ben loathed himself, it'd be now. He couldn't muster the courage to tell his best friend how he felt. That was just a testament to how much he belonged in Slytherin.

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Ben had laughed at his counter but, even focused on his hand, Ari couldn't miss how instantly he tensed at the touch. Was that just the reflex of surprise, or maybe a tactic to not flinch in pain, if he was feeling it in his hand? Ari wasn't sure, but he couldn't deny it looked a lot like discomfort to him.

He might have let go of Ben's hand in apology if it hadn't still been bleeding, so instead he swallowed quietly and assessed it calmly, carefully brushing out a tiny shard of glass.

I fell, Ben said, which was rather a vague explanation, and not one Ari had necessarily expected. Usually there was more of a flourish to the story than that. "Oh really?" Ari asked, lifting his eyebrows at his friend with the merest hint of scepticism. Still, he uncorked the small bottle of dittany without questioning him further, supposing Ben would have no real reason to lie about what had happened. As he carefully tilted a drop onto the worst-cut area of his palm and watched the cut fizz away to a thinner, surface wound, Ben seemed to come a little more back to himself - relaxed a little, spun back to cheerful exclamation, even took a moment to carelessly muss his curls. (An unnecessary endeavour, though Ari couldn't say it; he wasn't sure Ben's hair could possibly be any messier than it looked now. Not that he was, er, complaining.)

Ari wasn't sure clumsiness was in character or a complete explanation of how he had crashed into some kind of glass or another, either. He couldn't still have been at work at this time, though, which was how Ben usually got into trouble; he wasn't foolhardy as a person, and he was careful as an Auror, but all the same somehow he managed to do away with all sense of self-preservation in the face of danger, like flesh wounds were irrelevant.

"It's a miracle you haven't died," Ari granted him, suppressing a smile to pretend exasperation at him  - although Ben had come close enough before, far too close for comfort. Patching him up might as well be a full time job, though at least this was not much of a test of his abilities: he unrolled a patch of bandage and wound the gauze firmly round his hand with practised ease, hardly needing to think about it.

But it was not the first time, either, that Ben had caught his hand on glass of some kind... and try as he might, it was not a memory Ari could easily forget. Ben had not let him do any of this then, would have wrenched his hand away if Ari had so much as tried to touch him, after... well. Confessing what he had, the way he had.

He tied off the end of the bandage with a little more focus on it than perhaps necessary, trying to let out two years of guilt in another breath and not linger on it again. He wasn't sure what had been worse, in the end: his life after telling him the truth before, or now, getting to relive their friendship with that guilt of lying to him still hanging over his head, and poised like the sword of Damocles, ready to crash down at any moment all over again.

But the rest of Ari's life was going to be a lie, too, so really he ought to have made his peace with it by now.

"Anything else?" Ari asked, satisfied with his hand and finally lifting his gaze to Ben's face in case there was anywhere else he'd injured himself in his apparent - uncharacteristic - clumsiness.  

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Despite the good job Ari was doing at not asking any probing questions, Ben knew he wasn't stupid enough to be completely oblivious to the nervous energy that was buzzing around the auror. He might as well have waved a red flag in front of Ari's eyes. It's a miracle you haven't died, Ben let out a scoff. He just about almost... in Ireland.

Ben's breath hitched as the night's recent events played in his head. The crystal glass shattering, shouting at Ari, the kiss - god, the kiss.....the liquored haze of that night.

That smile though - something in Ben's chest jerked uncharacteristically and it was suddenly hard to breathe. It had pulled him out of the flashback and grounded him exactly where he knew he wanted to be.... There was nothing to it. If he didn't do it now, he was never going to do it. As Ari tied the bandage on his hand, each bite was like a tick in a countdown. It was a few seconds before he realized his heart was pounding as loud as a clock in his chest.

Anything else?

Almost as if it was reflex, Ben caught Ari's hand in his own bandaged one. "Ari..." he said, his voice hoarse once more. He lifted his gaze just as Ari met his own. Oh, those eyes...

"Ari," he said, taking a breath to steel himself. "I know." He said it so quietly he could scarcely be sure if he'd uttered those two words.

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Whatever he had been expecting, it was not for Ben to catch him by the hand - not the sudden seriousness of his name in Ben's mouth, nor the directness of his gaze.

If Ari had felt himself frozen in it before, the feeling only intensified as Ben spoke, two words that flipped the universe.

“You... know.” It sank in as Ari echoed it, his heart flinging itself from his chest in fear as if there was some escape. But no, he was trapped under a magnifying glass, as dazzled by the green of Ben's eyes as he was despairing that everything was really going to come to an end again like this.

There was nothing else Ben could know but that. Only one thing Ari had been burying from him, almost more fiercely than the first time - because Ben would not forgive him a second.

His eyes were already too wide in horror to try and lie about it, either. If he accepted that it was already much too late to salvage this - impossible to salvage this - perhaps he would feel a little of that relief again, the way he had felt once about being honest, the only force he had to counter the crushing shame.

“I never meant to lie to you,” Ari said, breaking down into hoarseness too as he ducked his gaze a fraction and fought the pounding terror in his chest. The words came in a desperate flood, as though he could make an apology comprehensible. “I would have told you again, but it all went so wrong the first time, I - and then you didn't seem to remember, and I thought perhaps that was better that way -” I hoped you never would. He wasn't sure if it had been a selfish wish. And for Ben to remember now, after all this time - maybe it was what Ari deserved. Maybe it was for the best that it was coming now, when everything was already changing irreparably. What was one more heartbreak?

“But if the rest of my life is going to be a lie,” lies upon lies, to the world, to his family, even to Dionisia now... Ari glanced up, jaw tensed in a momentary flash of defiance. There was no use denying it. “I’d rather you know the truth.”

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Time had stopped, and at the same instant, it was as if it was rushing towards Benedict faster than he could muster. His heart jolted again as the expression on Ari's face transformed into one of confusion to one of mingled devastation and horror. His heart's pounding grew louder in his ears as he waited for Ari to say something.

Please, say something.

Ari's words only confirmed that what Ben had seen in his flashback were all true. Perhaps there was a small inkling of a hope that Ben had seen wrong, and that Ari would have simply laughed and told him he was being silly - that an amnesiac might remember false memories. But no. It was all true. The first feeling rising up in him was immense relief. The realization that he had wanted - no, prayed - that it was all true was overwhelming. The second emotion to crash down upon him was devastation. Lies. As Ari had been living a lie his whole life, his chance at happiness had come and gone. Ben was too late.

"Better that way," Ben echoed, his voice breaking at the end. He grimaced at Ari, still gripping his hand in his own. "Ari, how - how is that better?" It wasn't a question. It was a plea. A plea for Ari to explain how all of this was better than what they had to settle for.

Another plea. "Why didn't...." Why didn't Ari tell him, why didn't Ben remember until now, why didn't he realize his feelings sooner, why wasn't time working for them.

The auror's grip didn't loosen as he searched in Ari's eyes for some sign, beseeching a logical answer to this madness. His heart pleaded for it to all not be too late, and for it all to be okay. But it wasn't okay.

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He was poised, this time, for the fallout, had been anxiously ready to relive that day as soon as Ben had seemed to have forgotten it, just in case he ever slipped up again. He had centred his balance, would not resist the shove when it came - he was waiting for Ben to let go of his hand, to drop it like lightning.

None of that came this time. Not yet. Perhaps it was more confusing for Ben, this time around. But Ben knew now, Ben had known before Ari had told him, before he had arrived on his doorstep tonight, Ben had remembered it of his own accord - Ari could see it in his face, that he knew. He couldn't read the expression on it, but to him, Ben looked upset - and no wonder. Ari bowed his head a little, dropped his gaze in contrition as the auror puzzled things out aloud. How was that better, he asked? Didn't he know?

"Because I didn't want you to hate me," Ari said slowly, wondering why it should be necessary to explain this, and why Ben's grasp on his hand was so steady and firm in spite of it all. He looked at Ben, gaze softening a little to show he was sorry, and that he understood. "Because I know you don't feel the same."

And that was fine. That was fine. He had come to terms with that a long time ago. Ben would never love him like that; Ben had never needed to know.

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He wanted to yell at Ari that he shouldn't have assumed that he would hate him. That it was unfair for Ben to not get a say in any of this. Words failed him though. He'd seen that the first time he was given a chance, he blew it and he blew it royally. There wasn't turning back the clock to change his mind that night.

It was too much. "What makes you think I hated you the last time?" he said, gripping Ari's hand in his, his green eyes boring into Ari. He couldn't have hated his best friend after that - that....that wasn't like him...

But Ari knew Ben more than he knew himself. If Ari said that Ben had hated him...well, he was probably right. He let out a huff of frustration as his shoulders drooped, as if finally accepting defeat. No matter how he chose to spin this, he was to blame for missing this. He had to live with it the rest of his life.

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He couldn't breathe. He might be underwater, the way this felt - his ears full and lungs empty, fighting to find his head above water, searching for the surface somewhere, some relief.

He wasn't sure he dared open his mouth again. What more was there to say? Ben knew. Ben remembered everything - or at least, so Ari had presumed, but how could he remember what had happened and not know just how he had recoiled the first time he had found out? And now, with the unrelenting pressure of his hand, his unbroken stare... It was almost enough to undo it all. To believe - impossibly - that things might have gone another way, once.

Ari barely noticed the defeated set of Ben's shoulders, his gaze too busy brimming with disbelief to contend with anything else. Oh, how he wanted to believe Ben didn't hate him for this. He must know Ari couldn't help it, must know Ari hadn't meant to tear everything down, must be a little sorry, too, that things had happened as they had. Almost unconsciously, he found his other hand reaching for Ben's shoulder, in some little gesture of - oh, he didn't know - but his hand only hovered there at his collarbone, not quite touching him, sure that if he did it might somehow break the spell.

As long as Ben didn't hate him now, now that he knew again. "Tell me you didn't, then," Ari choked out, past the lump in his throat and the desperate need to believe a different truth. He pressed Ben's hand back instead, almost pleading. He'd believe anything Ben said tonight. Everything would be fine, as long as Ben didn't hate him, as long as... "Tell me you don't."

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The beating of his heart was echoing throughout his brain; there was scarcely little else he could focus on besides. He searched Ari's expressions again as he felt Ari's hand come up and hover around his shoulder. Ben hadn't known he craved more of his touch until his hand was only millimeters from him.

But could Ari forgive him for acting in such a manner that night? To Ben, it was unforgivable. He wasn't sure if Ari would ever be okay with that again. Sure, he might forget it while Ben was in a good mood, but would Ari trust that if he got angry again, he would make sure to never let his emotions take control of him like that? The pressure Ari put on his hand was like emerging for air.

Before the words were even out of his mouth, he pulled Ari forwards with his injured hand. "I don't," he responded, clinging to Ari's words as if he were struggling for air and they were a life raft. His other found his back as he closed the small distance between them. And then his lips were on Ari's.

He had never wanted more for time to stand still and never move.

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I don't. Ari's breath hitched in his chest. He hadn't dared imagine a better outcome than that.

So it came as something of a shock, to be pulled in closer, to feel Ben's hand suddenly holding him there, to wait, transfixed, failing to decipher the purpose in Ben's green eyes until he was close, too close, and his lips met Ari's. This was a mistake, Ari supposed, frozen in disbelief, some delusion he would fall out of in a moment, would berate himself for allowing to take hold -

But it wasn't, it was real, and nothing was falling away except the whole world - the room around them, their scarred past, the future looming - and Ben was here, with him, telling him more in this kiss than he had with a single word he'd said. At last he melted into it, his hand finally reaching Ben's shoulder as he had meant it to, revelling in this reassuring closeness, the feeling that maybe he'd been a little bit wrong, all this time; that maybe Ben did feel the same.

This was... possibly the worst time for this to be happening, and it was far too good to be true, but Ari was not about to argue. Flooded with feeling, he let his hand go from Ben's and instead reached up to let his rest at the back of Ben's neck, his fingers curling keenly into the base of his hair, without breaking the kiss - kissing him back, hungrily, hoping Ben would understand. There was so much to say.

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Whatever Ben had planned on saying after this was gone, replaced by a deep hunger that he knew only one person could satiate. He hadn't planned on it going this way - he hadn't really known what would happen tonight, but this exceeded his expectations by far. A groan escaped from him as deepened the kiss in the only way he knew how. He leaned into Ari; warm, comforting and a rock that Ben felt would never waver, no matter how much the seas of fate crashed into them. And yet even though the waves of thought crashed over and over in his brain - the consequences of his actions tonight, what he and Ari would have to discuss later tonight, what they would do... he never wanted this to end.

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