Amortentia

Part 33

“John!” His mom said happily, crushing him in a bone breaking hug.
“Hi mom, dad.” John said, setting his bags down to give her a proper hug. He hugged his dad and smiled sarcastically at Harry, who scowled at him.
“You must be Sherlock.” Mrs. Watson said.
“Yes.” Sherlock said, setting the owl cage down and offering a hand to shake. Instead Mrs. Watson gave him a hug too, which Sherlock awkwardly returned, but over her shoulder he was looking at John for help.
“Mom, come on, you just met him, don’t go chasing him away.” John said, annoyed yet amused at the horrified look on Sherlock’s face.
“So you guys just met this year?” Mr. Watson asked.
“Ya, in potions class.” John said quickly, which wasn’t a lie.
“What house are you in sweetie?” Mrs. Watson asked.
“Ravenclaw.” Sherlock answered, which wasn’t a lie also.
“Well it’s very nice to meet you.” Mrs. Watson assured, ruffling her son’s hair, and offering to help with all of their luggage. They passed through the barrier and appeared in muggle world, were they could only spot a few wizards among the crowd. Muggles always amused John, how they could see a whole bunch of people with owls and robes and not get the least bit suspicious was beyond him, they were so oblivious to the world around them, but it was for the best apparently. If muggles knew of the existence of wizards, the Wizarding world would be flooded with pathetic muggles asking for magical answers for everything, and it would just be too much. They walked to the family car, which was a small, regular sized car, which was a bit difficult with their entire luggage. Mr. Watson was trying to cram John’s trunk in with Sherlock’s while the two owls still had to be put in.
“Allow me.” Sherlock said, gently pushing him out of the way and tapping the car with his wand. Immediately the inside of the trunk fit the two trunks and owls perfectly, with room to spare. Sherlock smiled kindly as Mr. Watson, awestruck, looked underneath the car to see where the extra space came from.
“Amazing!” He exclaimed.
“Come on Andy, we don’t have all day!” Mrs. Watson called from the passenger seat.
“Coming dear!” He called, and put his fingers to his lips. “Don’t tell your mother, she doesn’t like to use magic around the house.” He whispered to the two boys. They nodded obediently and John climbed into the backseat, where Harry was already sitting, texting away on her phone. John sat squished between Harry, who he tried to keep a distance from, and Sherlock, who he didn’t mind sharing personal space with.
“Harry dear, put the phone away and talk!” Mrs. Watson pleaded. Harry rolled her eyes, but clicked her phone off.
“So, you go to Hogywarts too?” She asked Sherlock, trying to make it as obvious as possible that she didn’t care.
“Yes.” He said, trying to sound interested in the conversation, but John knew he didn’t care either, he hated conversation.
“It’s Hogwarts.” John corrected. Harry rolled her eyes.
“So what did you do to deserve to hang out with my brother, probably something bad.” Harry guessed. Sherlock’s fists clenched, like he wanted to tell her how much he loved John, how nothing in the world was better than having him notice him.
“We simply met in potions.” Sherlock said. John tapped his foot under the car seat, not looking at him, but trying to tell him to calm down telepathically.
“Do you have a friend coming over? Maybe Clara?” John asked, even though he couldn’t stand the sight of Clara.
“I don’t know, is she?” Harry asked hopefully.
“If she’s allowed to honey, this is a special situation.”
“Why is this special? Just because they both go to some school for freaks!” Harry hissed.
“You’re just jealous you’re still learning algebra!” John defended.
“At least I’m not practicing magic!”
“You’re just a muggle, you couldn’t even if you tried!”
“Like I’d want to fit into your little cult!” Harry growled.
“Hey! Stop fighting back there or I will pull this car over!” Mr. Watson threatened, making John and Harry go silent. “We have a guest, and this is a horrible first impression!”
“With all due respect, this is much better than sitting in the castle alone.” Sherlock pointed out.
“No, this is a bad representation of our family, they’re kids, you know how they are.”
“I am a mature adult, not a kid!” Harry yelled.
“You’re 19 Harry, not an adult.” Mr. Watson pointed out.
“I can vote and 18 is the legal age!”
“Once you move out you are an adult and you still won’t use that phone to look for a college!” Mr. Watson hissed.
“Everyone just be quiet!” Mrs. Watson shrieked, making everyone shut their mouths immediately.
“Now, Sherlock, tell me, how are you liking seventh year in Hogwarts?” she asked.
“Oh, well I actually,” Sherlock paused, remembering that he was supposed to be in John’s grade. “Love it; it’s so much better than sixth year, except for the NEWTS of course.” Sherlock said his voice calm and smooth after covering up the slight lie.
“I heard those tests were going to be rubbish, I wish you the best of luck dear.” She said.
“Thank you Mrs. Watson.” Sherlock said. John glanced at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye, who looked down at him with uncertainty. John gave him a slight reassuring smile, to tell him that he was doing a good job.
“How about you John, do you think you understand everything?”
“Yes, but I’m missing a couple of weeks information.” John shrugged.
“Oh yes, I heard about that, so lucky that memory spell was deflected, who was it that saved my little boy anyway?” she asked.
“It was me actually.” Sherlock said, a bit awkwardly.
“Really? Well thank you so much, without you, John would never remember any of us, he’d never be the same person!”
“I couldn’t imagine what that would’ve put you through.” Sherlock said.
“Well didn’t you guys just meet that year, and he only lost a year of information, he would’ve forgotten you wouldn’t he?” Mr. Watson asked. Logic kills everything apparently. Sherlock looked at his feet with a sudden sadness, filling the car with awkward silence.
“Yes.” Sherlock muttered. Mr. and Mrs. Watson exchanged glances, but went right back to looking at the road immediately, as if nothing had happened.
“Well, I’m glad you two met each other again.” Mrs. Watson said with a smile.
“Ya, me too.” John agreed. The car pulled into the driveway of the small house, but John was so happy to be home it looked like another castle. Even though he didn’t remember leaving, he always missed his own house, his own bed, and his annoying terrier Coco, who was barking in the window already. Sherlock climbed out of the car, and on his feet he was taller than the car, which must be pretty dreadful to sit in. John followed him out, stretching and enjoying his free space from Harry.
“I’ve got this honey, you go on in.” Mr. Watson assured, shielding the newly enlarged trunk from his wife, who was insisting on helping.
“I just have no idea how you managed to cram that stuff in.” Mrs. Watson said with amazement as she opened the front door, which was being attack by Coco. When the door opened, the brown and white dog raced through the flower beds and jumped onto John, barking and licking his hands with excitement.
“Hey Coco, yes, yes I missed you too.” John laughed, petting the dogs head with difficulty as if tried to scramble around. He lost interest in John and moved onto jump onto Sherlock, who backed up into the car with fright.
“John!” he cried with terror, trying to push the dog away.
“Don’t worry Sherlock, he won’t hurt you.” John assured, pulling Coco by the collar and leading him away to sniff at the owl cage on the ground. Jam hooted uncomfortably, moving away from the dog, whose tail was waging at supersonic speed.
“You’re scared of dogs?” Harry asked, looking at Sherlock over the screen of her phone.
“No, it just came, suddenly.” Sherlock assured.
“Sure.” She laughed. She curled the pink streak in her blonde hair as she scrolled through some sort of blog on her phone, walking into the house as Coco followed, yipping and chasing her feet. Mr. Watson carried the owls in after her, leaving just John and Sherlock outside in the driveway.
“Just get used to them, it takes a while, I know, but they are okay eventually.” John assured.
“I just don’t want to scare them away.” Sherlock said.
“You won’t, they already like you, don’t worry, I’m just worried they’ll scare you away.” John laughed, picking up the handle of his trunk in one hand and his broom in the other.
“As long as you’re here, I’ll stay.” Sherlock assured. John smiled, looking up into his beautiful green eyes, starting to lean in for a quick kiss, when the door opened again.
“You boys need any help?” Mr. Watson called.
“Coming!” John called, quickly putting distance between Sherlock and he, his dad didn’t think anything of it obviously, which John was thankful for. He pulled his trunk behind him over the stone walkway, which had only a small sprinkle of snow overtop, Sherlock following behind, his own trunk bouncing behind him. John opened the door with difficulty, but swinging it open just wide enough to squeeze in before the screen door came crashing down on his trunk.
“Good luck with that.” John laughed as Sherlock opened it with his free hand, trying his best to lift the trunk inside the door. The house smelled strongly of candles, which was no surprise because when guests are coming over, Mrs. Watson burns at least four. The floors were cleaned, the carpets swept, even the pictures on the walls were straitened, as if Sherlock was some type of royalty.
“Aw, is that you?” Sherlock laughed, looking at John’s kindergarten picture, which was framed on the wall. He was small and chubby, smiling widely even though his two front teeth were missing.
“Don’t look at that, come on.” John said, leading the way to the living room where his mom had set out a tray of crackers and cheese. Sherlock looked around, but there wasn’t much to see, just a couch, a couple of chairs, and a large flat screen TV, which had fascinated John before. “Follow me.” John instructed, walking to the stair case in the other room. He hauled his trunk up the steps, thankful for the extra quidditch muscles. He looked behind him to see Sherlock calmly guiding a floating trunk up the steps, his wand out. John groaned, wondering how he didn’t think of that, but it was too late now. He walked into his room, nothing special, with blue walls, white carpet, and a blue bedspread. There were famed pictures on his dresser of his family and friends, and books littering the bookshelf in the corner. A bin was filled with all of his basketballs, footballs, soccer balls, and baseballs, but everything was covered in a thin layer of dust from the last time he had been there. Sherlock followed him in, dropping his trunk to the floor.
“No, you’re in the room across the hall, the guest room, this is my room.” John protested.
“Oops.” Sherlock said, and rolled his trunk across the hall into the guest room. “Should I unpack or just live out of my suitcase?” he called.
“Whatever you want, it’s only a week.” John replied. Sherlock walked back over to John’s room, sitting on the bed with a huff, sending dust floating everywhere.
“So, home sweet home I guess.” John shrugged. Sherlock looked around, noticing the pictures. One of them moved, a picture of John, Greg, Mike, and Sara by the lake in third year, all in their robes, ready to go home for summer.
“When was this taken?” he asked.
“Third year.” John said.
“You look so young.” Sherlock laughed.
“Well, a lot changes in four years, I bet you don’t look the same as you do now.”
“I would rather die than dig up my baby pictures.” Sherlock said, shivering.
“Boys, come down, we have snacks!” Mrs. Watson called from down the steps.
“Welcome to the house, we faked everything, have snacks while we talk endlessly to you.” John mimicked with a disgusted tone.
“I don’t mind, really, it’s nice here.” Sherlock said.
“Well, I hope it you like it, don’t be afraid to share your complaints.” John said, leading the way back down to the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Watson were sitting on the couch, while Harry, looking bitter, sat in an armchair, staring longingly at her phone, which sat on the end table near the couch, obviously confiscated. The cracker plate was still in the middle of the coffee table, but there was also a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses, plus useless little plates that no one used. There was only one armchair left, and John insisted Sherlock have it, so he was forced to sit next to his parents. He leaned over to the coffee table to get a cracker, munching halfheartedly on it.
“So, are Greg and them all going home for Christmas?” Mrs. Watson asked.
“Ya.” John said simply.
“I’m guessing you’re just part of the pack then right?” she asked Sherlock.
“Yes, I spend a lot of time in the Gryffindor common room.” Sherlock said which was true.
“Oh, I didn’t know other houses were allowed in the common rooms.”
“Well, I got in, so I guess it’s okay.” Sherlock shrugged.
“Is the Ravenclaw common room different than Gryffindor?” Mr. Watson asked. 
“Not really, different decorations, different kids, different location, but that’s about it.” Sherlock said.
“What house do you think Harry would be in?” Mrs. Watson asked. Harry seemed to come out of her own little dream land at the mention of her name.
“Slytherin.” John said immediately.
“Hey, you said that’s the house of all the jerks!” Harry defended.
“Exactly why it’s perfect for you.” John pointed out. Harry scowled at him, but John knew it was true.
“I honestly don’t know her well enough to pick a house.” Sherlock admitted.
“Well don’t get your hopes up.” John muttered. Sherlock gave him an amused glance, like saying, why would I want to anyway. John smiled, nodding once to say he agreed.
“I’m starving, it’s almost seven thirty, let’s eat.” John decided.
“We already ate dinner, but you two can eat some if you want.” Mrs. Watson offered.
“What is it?” John asked.
“Beef stew.” Mr. Watson answered, making John’s mouth water. That was his favorite childhood dinner; he used to eat bowls and bowls of it until he almost threw up.
“Sounds excellent.” Sherlock agreed. John couldn’t tell if he was acting the polite kid or that was actually just who he was, but he had a suspicion it was fake. Mrs. Watson got up to get some food, and a couple minutes later she came back with two bowls of hot stew, the steam rising into the air.
“No eating on the furniture dear, sorry, house rules.” She said. John got up and sat with his back to the coffee table, thankful for a reason to leave the couch with his parents. Sherlock came down and sat next to him, thankfully excepting the bowl of stew. John took his own bowl, which was still very hot to touch, so he set it on the floor next to him. He was very aware of Sherlock’s shoulder pressing against his, and he prayed his parents didn’t think anything of it.
“I’ll turn on the TV, any channel suggestions?” Mrs. Watson asked.
“I want to watch the next episode of Glee!” Harry insisted.
“No honey, we have a guest!” Mrs. Watson hissed.
“I don’t care what we watch.” Sherlock shrugged. Mrs. Watson turned on a show, some house buying show that made John cringe.
“Is this okay dear?”
“Fine.” Sherlock agreed. Harry groaned, sinking lower into the couch and begging them give her phone back. When they finally agreed, Harry scrambled to it faster than John had ever seen her move, collapsing back into the chair, but staring at the screen like she missed half of her life. John couldn’t wait for the stew to cool down; he ate a spoon full and nearly burned his tongue off, having to take a big sip of lemonade to cool down. Sherlock laughed at him, but John just rolled his eyes and ignored him. By the time the stew was cool enough to eat, John ate his bowl faster than humanly possible, going on to his second before Sherlock was even half finished. When he finally was too full to eat another bite, he had eaten three bowls of the delicious stew, when Sherlock only politely ate one.  
“You’re going to blow up.” Sherlock decided. Neither of the two moved off of the floor even though the food was long gone. The sun was completely down now, and the lamps provided the only light in the room, casting a warm, orangish glow and making the place seem so homey. When it was nine o’clock, John couldn’t take any more of how the people didn’t like this house, couldn’t afford this house, and loved this house, so he announced he was going to bed and walked quickly up to his room. Sherlock followed, after saying goodnight and thanking them for the food.
“Goodnight Sherlock, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.” He teased before they split up to go to the separate rooms.
“If they do, I’ll just immobilize them.” Sherlock said with a taunting smile, opening his own door and walking in. John went into his own room, shutting the door behind him with a snap. The room was pitch black, so he turned on the bed side lamp to change into his pajamas. He made sure his wand was sitting on the bedside table before snuggling under the covers and pulling the lamp string, plunging the room into darkness yet again.