Malcolm stood outside the Defense classroom waiting for the third years to leave. When he poked his head in and saw it empty, he slipped through the door. Professor Potter sat at his desk at the head of the class looking over some papers, and wasn't aware that Malcolm entered. When he did notice, he looked up and smiled. "Malcolm. What can I do for you?"

But Malcolm and Rupert did not have time to get together. Something was terribly wrong with Professor Potter, and Serenity Hudson was being quite the idiot about it all. Rupert and Felecia got together to brew several love potion antidotes and Malcolm spent his time trying to figure out different ways to trick her into taking them, but none of them seemed to work.

"I think she's been hexed," said Malcolm when the three of them got together, watching Serenity sighing toward the Defense tower.

"It's downright disgusting, that's what it is," said Rupert, shaking his head.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Rosencrantz. "What do you think Malcolm looks like when you leave?"

Malcolm sneered at her. "Do not!"

"Do too."

Malcolm was horrified until Rupert shook his head at him. "The thing of it is," said Rupert, "what are we going to do?"

Malcolm grumbled, but he did have a few ideas. Not that they'd like them. "I…" he began. But when he stopped they looked at him. "Um…I can do some spells on her to see what it is. But…"

"It's Dark magic, isn't it?" said Rupert.

Malcolm nodded.

Felecia shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Rupert paced. "But we've got to do something! She's going to get herself expelled. Or Professor Potter sacked. We can't have that."

"Malcolm," said Felecia, "can't you talk to Professor Malfoy?"

Malcolm hid his blush at mention of Professor Malfoy and their last explicit conversation. "You've seen him. He's too busy. Rumour has it he's cancelled his classes, too."

"You're kidding!"

"It must be really serious," said Rupert.

They all fell silent. Rosencrantz looked up from her deliberation first. "Okay. Malcolm. I think you should do whatever you can for Hudson."

"Rosencrantz!"

"Look, Rupert. We've got nothing else and I trust Malcolm. Don't you?"

Rupert's face screwed up in consternation. Malcolm felt a little like he was on display. He tightened his fist on his wand which he hadn't remembered pulling out.

Rupert walked up to Malcolm and looked him in the eye. "You'll be careful, won't you, mate?"

"Yes," he said evenly. "I'm always careful."

* * * * * * *

They ambushed Hudson the next day, using a stunning hex on her to get her to a private place behind the Owlry.

Felecia shook her head at her unconscious friend. "Should we revive her for this, Malcolm?"

"No. It's unnecessary." He concentrated. The spell had to be incanted just right or the consequences could be horrible. He glared at Rosencrantz. "I want you out of the way. And for Merlin's sake keep your mouth shut. I have to do this exactly right."

He couldn't help but glance at Rupert who was gnawing on a fingernail, watching him. What would Rupert think of him after this? Would he still want him? It had only been rumoured what kind of wizard Malcolm was, but now Rupert would see for himself the proof of it.

Can't think of that now. Must concentrate. The words focused in his mind and he gathered his magic and lifted his wand. Blue mist seeped from the wand tip and enveloped Serenity. Her body jerked as the mist wove about her and she suddenly lifted a few centimeters off the ground. He heard Felecia gasp, but ignored it. His wand vibrated slightly as it always did when he performed Dark magic, but the feeling of exhilaration from the forces surging through him took away all his worries. She jerked violently again and her body landed lightly. The blue mist was dispersing and Malcolm suddenly felt exhausted. He slumped and would have fallen had Rupert not caught him.

"Now what?" Rupert whispered.

"Revive her," said Malcolm breathlessly.

"Ennervate!" said Rupert, his wand aimed forward.

Serenity shot upward to her feet at once. She stared at them all wide-eyed. "What the hell are you doing!"

"How are you feeling?" asked Rosencrantz.

"What do you mean 'how am I feeling'? I'm bloody angry, that's how I'm feeling."

Felecia gave a hopeful smile to Malcolm. "Then you're all right."

"Of course I'm all right! What did you bloody do to me?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. It was just a prank."

"Well, prank my arse. Did you put her up to this Rupert? I would have thought better of you."

Rupert shook his head. "Not me!"

"Well!" She brushed off her robes and straightened her tie. "If you don't mind, I have to get back to the castle. Professor Potter might be calling for me."

Malcolm's shoulders slumped. "You're still on about him?"

"Of course. We're in love. I know you can't understand that. Well. At least I know you can understand it, Malcolm. You and Rupert have a rather perfect love, too."

He felt his face heat at that, but his disappointment that the spell didn't work was keen. Why hadn't it? Probably some much stronger hex was involved. But he dare not try again.

Hudson gave them all a scathing look before she tromped forward and out of sight.

Felecia sighed. "Well, that's that. She's doomed. Thanks anyway, Malcolm."

He grunted a reply.

The next day, Malcolm felt restless and began to wander the dungeons. He found himself poking his head into Professor Malfoy's study and was surprised to find him there. He was staring into the fire, his grey eyes reflecting the flames. His white-blond hair was more lackluster than usual and seemed to flutter with gold from the hearth light. He was very handsome. Malcolm could quite see what Professor Potter saw in him.

"Professor," he said tentatively.

Malfoy's eyes were the only thing that moved. They slid toward Malcolm, rested there for a moment until they registered recognition, and then eased back toward the flames. "Treeloft."

Malcolm took a step forward, and then another until he was standing beside Malfoy's chair. "We missed you in class today," he said.

Malfoy nodded.

"We know something must be wrong with Professor Potter and we just wanted to say that we're sorry."

Malfoy raised his head. "Thanks." He took his hand away from his chin and dropped it to his side where it dangled along the chair arm. He inhaled a deep sigh. "The thing of it is, Professor Potter has been cursed with a memory charm. He's forgotten everything. Including…me."

"Oh!" Malcolm found himself sinking to a stool beside him. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Malfoy swiped at his eyes. "But he knows who he is, anyway, and he's learning magic again."

"He's forgotten his magic?" Malcolm couldn't imagine such a thing. And Potter must have known quite a bit to destroy Voldemort. He didn't know what else to say. Malfoy looked at him with moist eyes.

"I shouldn't have been telling you this. I hope you won't spread it around."

"Oh, no, sir! I'd never say!"

"Good man." He rested his chin on his hand again. "You just never realize all the things that can happen. I mean, people get sick, they die. But there are some things that you are just never prepared for." He sighed heavily. "And what about your problem, Treeloft? Done anything about it yet?"

"No, sir," he said glumly. "Been busy."

"Well don't wait. Let this be an example to you. You wait too long and it all may slip through your fingers. All in a puff of smoke."

"You love Professor Potter, don't you?" Malfoy nodded. "He'll love you again, sir. I know he will. I've read the stories in the Prophet. It said he loved you a long time. Since you went to school here."

"Ancient history indeed," he said, a bit of the old snark to his voice. "But I have hope. I've never been a very hopeful bloke but Harry's done that for me, too."

A log snapped and a red ember sailed out of the hearth and landed on the stone floor. They both watched it glow and then slowly die.

"Well. I guess I'll be going, sir. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?"

Malfoy smiled weakly. "No, Treeloft. But thanks. See to yourself, yeah?"

Malcolm left, walking slowly and thoughtfully.

* * * * * * *

Malcolm walked the lonely corridors of Hogwarts, thinking about Potter and Malfoy and wondering about relationships and how they survived such ups and downs. He wondered if these professors would weather this or if it would all fall apart. He hoped not. Somehow, seeing the two of them always gave Malcolm a bit of hope of his own; that two men could stay together under adversity; over long years and into old age.

And then he wondered about him and Rupert.

He loved him. No question. He really did. But how long could Rupert love him? He saw Rupert's face after he, Malcolm, performed Dark magic. The look in his eye was different. It wasn't the same as before. What was he to do? He wanted to be with Rupert, to be shagged by him. But he wondered if it was all too late.

The corridors were lonely at night. Malcolm never worried about Prefects or Filch or even Peeves. Somehow, they all stayed clear of him. Maybe in the backs of their minds they thought of him as another Voldemort. So what? That's what he had striven for. To be feared and left alone. And so he walked until he looked down and saw a pair of feet before him.

"Oi, Malcolm," said Rupert, his hands deep in his trouser pockets.

Malcolm looked quickly around. The figures in the portraits on the walls were sleeping and not even a mouse moved down the long, dim corridor. "What are you doing out? You'll get into trouble."

"I've been 'out'. How about you?" He turned and Malcolm fell in along side him and they both walked aimlessly together.

"Come on, Rupert. Are we going to talk about this again?"

"Well, it's been on my mind. I keep thinking about Professors Potter and Malfoy and wondering what's going on. They've left the castle, you know."

"No, I didn't."

"Looking for some cure. Do you know what's wrong?"

He shook his head. "No idea."

They walked silently for a time, down stairs, around corners, and found themselves outside the little storeroom where they had their last liaison which, as Malcolm thought about it, was quite a few days ago. They both silently looked at the tapestry hiding the door.

"So Malcolm," said Rupert quietly. "Thought anymore about being gay?"

Malcolm lowered his eyes. "Actually, quite a lot. And I've come to the conclusion-"

"Yes?"

He raised his eyes and stared into Fenwick's moist ones. "That I'd like you to shag me. Want to do it now?"

Fenwick smiled sheepishly. "Blimey, Malcolm. Anxious, suddenly?"

"Yeah. A little."

Rupert gestured toward the centaur tapestry. "Well, mate. Right this way. My parlor awaits."

Malcolm stepped into the room and Rupert locked it with several charms. He waved his wand and lit the candles. The room was set up as it was the last time. Malcolm felt nervous but not as nervous as he thought he might have been. He felt Fenwick's hand on his shoulder and turned. Rupert's mouth was suddenly on his and they both angled their faces, kissing and kissing, mouths slipping over the other. Rupert's hands fell from Malcolm's shoulders and began blindly unbuttoning his shirt. They drew apart so he could help Fenwick's busy fingers.

Rupert smiled as he slipped Malcolm's shirt over his broad shoulders, and he couldn't seem to keep from touching his skin. His palms played over Malcolm's biceps and traveled downward, switching to his chest and well-shaped pectorals. "Oh mate," he breathed. "You are a sight to behold. So delicious." He bent his head to kiss Malcolm's chest. Kisses soon turned to licks and his tongue swathed a long line from nipple to nipple. Malcolm heaved a great sigh, his head lolling back. He'd never felt anything as marvelous as this. Rupert skillfully lapped at his nipples, and then twisted them ever so slightly with his teeth. Malcolm was suddenly so hard!

"Rupert," he groaned.

Rupert smiled against the skin of Malcolm's belly. "You like that, Malcolm. There's more. Lots more." He kissed his way down, tearing open Malcolm's trousers as he did. Malcolm felt them yanked down and they drifted to his ankles. Rupert rubbed his stiff prick over his briefs.

"Oh," Malcolm moaned. He reached down to caress Rupert's head, his hands slipping over the buzzed hair.

The Hufflepuff slipped his fingers down the waistband of Malcolm's Y-fronts and said, "I'm going to suck you raw, mate. And then I'm going to shag you proper. Any objections this time?"

Malcolm couldn't speak. The sensations of Rupert's words on his skin and the hand on his crotch were too much to process. Instead, he shook his head vigorously to get his point across.

"Good," said Rupert. "Because I think it's going to be a long night, if I have anything to say about it."

"Yes," he whispered, in complete agreement. Rupert was doing incredible things to him, and he wasn't yet fully undressed. Vaguely, he wondered how Rupert came to be so talented in this area, but most coherent thoughts fled quickly when his briefs came down. Rupert helped him step out of his trousers and pants, removed his shoes, and coaxed his legs open wider. Fingers were teasing his sac and lips were kissing his pubic hair and Malcolm was a mass of nerve endings and veins pulsing with blood. Lips touched his shaft, tenderly exploring its length and were soon joined by a wayward tongue, lapping in crazy swirls and circles wherever it could find. Malcolm threw his head back, mouth gaping in silent ecstasy. The tongue and lips moved in concert on his stiff flesh. Teeth nibbled delicately on the sensitive head and then devoured it. Malcolm couldn't help moving his hips into it, into that sweet, wet mouth and he moaned aloud.

Rupert's hands smoothed up Malcolm's thighs; one clamping on to the base of his cock and the other making a scorching squeeze of arse cheek. Rupert sucked at Malcolm's flesh, drawing long pulls with sunken cheeks and used his fingers to tighten around the shaft. The sensations centered in his bollocks and climbed upward and he was coming, thrusting into Rupert's willing mouth. He panted and rode out the rest of his orgasm, while Rupert licked and continued sucking until he was soft again.

He barely noticed when Rupert stood and he raised his eyes to the skinny boy. "I love you," Rupert whispered. "And I'll always be your mate. Will you trust me now? Can I be inside you, Malcolm?"

Malcolm nodded somberly. He reddened and suddenly felt awkward. "How shall I-?"

"I'll get undressed and you bend over the arm of the settee."

He nodded and watched Rupert first, anxious at his first sight of the naked boy. Rupert was rail thin with very pale skin, revealed as he drew off his shirt. He stepped out of his large shoes as he unbuckled his belt and slipped his trousers down. His Y-fronts were tented from his stiff erection and soon the briefs were down and gone. He remembered Rupert's cock from before. Thinner than his own but longer. He licked his lips, feeling anxious again, but made himself turn around and with his pelvis against the settee's arm, he buried his face in his arms on the settee's velvet cushion. His arse was elevated and he felt terribly exposed, but it wasn't a bad feeling. On the contrary, it felt sexy and naughty, and he rubbed his burgeoning erection against the arm. Then he felt Rupert's hands reverently caressing his backside.

"Open your legs a bit, Malcolm, there's a lad. If you push back when I push in, it will be less painful."

Malcolm wasn't afraid of the pain anymore. He started when the cold oil dribbled down his crack. But then Rupert's finger traced a long seductive trail down between his arse cheeks until it found the puckered flesh of his hole. He'd never felt anything like this before. It felt so good he pushed his arse upward into it. Rupert chuckled behind him and teased his hole before pushing a finger in.

"Oh!" That was even better. "Not your finger," he said huskily. "I want your cock, Rupert. Now."

"Happy to oblige, mate." Malcolm felt his arse cheeks parted, felt the blunt dome of what must be Rupert's cock against his entrance, and then the push. He tried to push back but it seared him open anyway and he gritted his teeth and hissed a breath at the feeling of being split. But once that cock had eased into him the pain lessened and he was left with a feeling of fullness, full of Rupert's cock buried deep inside him, taking him. "Oh Malcolm, you feel so good. So hot and tight. Bloody amazing." He said nothing more and began to thrust, slow easy ones at first, all the while rubbing Malcolm's arse. But then they became bolder, slamming deeper and deeper inside. Malcolm's face thumped into the cushion again and again with each thrust but he felt an overwhelming sensation of wonder and intense pleasure. Rupert, his love, was inside him! He was shagging him! And nothing was as marvelous as that. He parted his legs further, thrust his arse higher. Give me more, he was saying with his body, and Rupert responded by upping the speed of his thrusts. He came suddenly and explosively, jerking his hips into Malcolm's bum. He slowed and eventually stopped, resting a supporting hand on Malcolm's back.

"Oh mate, that was spectacular! You are the best shag ever!" His softened prick slipped out of him and he leant over to help Malcolm up, turned him, and pulled him into a sweaty embrace. Malcolm relished the skin on skin. His erection slipped under Rupert's bollocks, he jerked his hips, and came again down Rupert's thighs even as Rupert's cum slipped out of his own bum and down his legs. "Oi, Malcolm," he chuckled into his cheek. "I guess you really like me, eh? You've a short fuse."

"You turn me on," he whispered hoarsely to his flushed neck. "You turn me on so much!"

"Yeah, I got that." He pulled back a little to look Malcolm in the face and gently kissed him. The tender kiss soon turned to a deeper one. He eased his tongue past Malcolm's lips and took him in a sincere embrace.

They kissed like that for a bit until their mouths finally parted and Malcolm rested his forehead against his lover's. "We really belong to each other now, don't we?"

"We always did, Malcolm. It's just now there's more." They held each other until they felt a little cold and not a little sticky. Rupert Scourgified them both, they dressed, and sat together fondling for another hour, and reluctantly decided that they had to return to their dorms.

The next morning when they went to classes, Professors Malfoy and Potter were back teaching and the students were all overjoyed, especially in Defense class.

Potter explained what happened, never saying anything about the love hex, but Serenity, who sank into her seat with a face as red as a beet, was also back to normal.

Malcolm stood up in class and Potter turned his face toward him. "Sir, on behalf of the sixth years, I'd like to welcome you back." They all cheered and Potter looked a little taken aback. He managed a smile and rumpled his already messy hair.

"It's good to be back. And thanks. You see, even the best of wizards can make a mistake. So it's best to always be on the defensive where Dark magic and hexes are concerned. Let my example help you."

"But sir," said Rupert. "Would there really have been any way to avoid getting hexed in that situation?"

Potter flushed. "Well, yes. Had I been more careful, really taken the time as I should have, I wouldn't have been in any position to touch the objects at all or allowed a student to do so." His eyes flicked momentarily to Hudson, who had not made eye contact with Potter since she entered the classroom. "So to that end, I've made a few hexed objects of my own." He took a box from his desk and placed it on the floor before him. "Nothing dangerous, mind, just something surprising. You'll get into pairs and see how to properly handle the objects and distinguish which hex has been used on them. Let's get to it!"

Rupert moved automatically to Malcolm. He looked up into the boy's dark eyes. "Pair up?" he asked.

Malcolm smiled and felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. "'Course. We're inseparable, aren't we?"

The End

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"Treeloft's Problem"

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