Chapter Text
When Max was eight years old, his father handed him a wand.
It was a beautiful wand, the one his father picked, Ash with dragon heartstring, twelve inches, rigid. Max loved it, even if his mum had looked at it with the same look as she had when his father had taken him flying. Pinched and uncomfortable.
“He needs to learn, Sophie,” Dad had said, watching Max scatter sparks from his new wand, eyes glowing. “I don’t trust that school to teach him anything of value if they only insist on taking him in at eleven.”
“That’s a perfectly fine age, Jos,” Mum had sniffed, Victoria just beginning to fuss in her arms. “You know it’s dangerous to be -,”
“He’ll be fine. At Drumstrang, he would already be duelling,” Jos said, “But whatever. Better than Beauxbaton, at least.”
Sophie Verstappen, who had been a proud Beauxbaton grad and former Keeper of the Sauber Swords, chose that moment to leave the room with her young daughter in her arms. It would not be the first time she would do so, but this would be the very first time Max would have his wand to distract him.
_______
When Max was ten years old, two strangely dressed men came to see him.
Max knew they were coming to take him to school, his Dad had told him multiple times to make sure to hide his wand while they were there, and he should be on his best behaviour, as it was important that he get chosen to go to Hogwarts. Hogwarts had the best flying instructors on the continent.
Mum had wanted him to go to Beauxbaton, but Dad had scoffed. Dad scoffed a lot at whatever Mum said.
Dad kept shaking hands and smiling at the first man who had appeared at the fireplace, a short man with a kind face and gleaming eyes, like the moving illustrations of the howling wolves in Mum’s bedtime stories. He loomed over Max after Dad was done shaking his hand. “Hullo Max,” he smiled, taking Max’s hand in his. His palm was dry and rough, like he spent a lot of time working with his hands. Light scars littered the skin of his hand. “I’m Professor Horner, and I’m a teacher at Hogwarts. Your dad tells me you like flying?”
Max nodded. Max liked a lot of things, flying was easily the best of them. (Sometimes, in the middle of the night though, Max would wake up and make stars come out of his wand and dance across the ceiling. It used to make Victoria laugh and settle, before Mum and her left.)
“Well, at Hogwarts, you’ll learn how to fly really well,” Professor Horner continued, as if Max was a baby instead of ten whole years old. Practically an adult, in Max’s opinion. “So would you be interested in going?”
“I know I’m going, of course.” Max replied dully. “You don’t have to act like I have a choice.”
The other man laughing distracted Max from Horner’s surprised and somewhat annoyed face. He was a weird looking man, Max decided, his hair was curly and looked fluffy like the puppy Dad had gotten Victoria last summer, his nose was huge and he had weird metal bits on his teeth. He did not seem to be as old as Horner.
His smile made his eyes crinkle. Max liked it.
“He’s got you there, Christian,” the man said. His accent was strange, not like Horner’s, but not like Dad’s either. He extended his own hand towards Max, instead of grabbing it like Professor Horner had. A yellow badger glowed on his chest. Hufflepuff. Max had looked up the silly names of the houses at Hogwarts. They were all stupid, but Dad had said Slytherin was the best. All the great wizards went to Slytherin. “Good to finally meet you, Max, I’m Daniel.”
__________________
Max was thirteen when people told him it was weird that he hung around with Daniel so much. Except they called him Professor Ricciardo, which was stupid, of course. Daniel was always Daniel, even when he was in the Charms Tower teaching them how to whack each other over the head with floating feather dusters (“Honestly, the best way to teach them is to give them motivation, Christian!”) or when he took him flying when he wasn’t supposed to (Daniel was fast but not as fast as Max was going to be soon, Daniel had told him so), or when he was handing Max Chocolate Frogs as they crossed each other on the staircase (“Don’t tell Seb, he went on a rampage last year when someone flooded the fifth floor bathroom with them.”) or when he let Max sit in his cluttered little room above his classroom, just do his homework while Daniel puttered around making tea and biscuits. Daniel could bake very good biscuits.
It was nicer to study there instead of the cold, damp, dungeon that was the Slytherin common room or the library. The library didn’t have Daniel guessing wrong answers for his Divination homework.
“Careful, Max,” Pierre smirked at the Slytherin table the day after Max had come back late from Daniel’s quarters, smelling of treacle tart and the slight ozone smell that hung around Daniel all the time. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think things, now would we?”
Max, who had been watching Daniel levitate grapes into Professor Vettel’s mouth while Professor Hamilton looked on, snapped his neck around. “What things?”
“Oh you know…things.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Max didn’t know why, but he could feel his neck get warm. He wanted to slap Pierre’s smug little French face, speaking in riddles and making Max feel stupid. He did not like Pierre, and Pierre didn’t like him either, because despite Max being a third year and Pierre being a fifth, Max was already Seeker and Pierre was already on the bench. Pierre and his stupid flying skills could suck ass.
“Stop it, Pierre, you’re being so rude,” Charles Leclerc said, flouncing over from the Gryffindor table, and Pierre had the grace to look chastised. “He doesn’t mean it, Max,” Charles always had a slight lisp, one that made all the girls swoon but today it was grating. He pronounced it ‘Maxsh’ instead of ‘Max’. Daniel called him Maxy sometimes. That wasn’t grating at all. “I think it’s sweet how Professor Ricciardo is mentoring you.” Charles continued.
“Mentoring? He’s not mentoring me,” Max hissed. “He’s my friend, we-we’re friends.”
Charles looked at him pityingly. His eyes were too big for his face. Max wanted to punch him. “Max, he’s a professor.”
“So? He’s my friend, also,” Max replied, daring Charles to argue. He and Charles weren’t friends exactly, but neither of them let their on-field rivalry, with Charles being the youngest Seeker for Gryffindor House ever, and Max being the youngest Seeker to win the House Cup for his team, affect their school lives. Not yet, anyway. Everybody expected them to hate each other.
It would be very easy to hate Charles, Max thought meanly.
Charles raised his arms in mock surrender. “Whatever you say. Pierre, see you after class.”
He went off, a world weary energy that beguiled his thirteen year old shoulders.
Later on, during Charms, Max watched as Daniel bounced around the room, gently correcting wandwork or, in Lando’s case, popping the disastrous Bubble-head charm he had performed on himself somehow.
Daniel saw him looking, and smiled broadly. Max, almost on automatic, smiled back, feeling something warm spread through his chest at the sight. Daniel had gotten rid of the weird metal bits on his teeth sometime in Max’s second year. His smile was very nice now, but Max was going to keep that thought to himself.
Esteban Ocon retched loudly next to him. Max couldn’t tell if it was because of Max or because he had accidentally cast the Bubble-head charm on the inside of his throat.
___
When Max was fourteen, Daniel told him maybe he should be hanging out with his fellow students instead of spending Hogsmeade weekend following him around while he shopped. Max, balancing a pile of books Daniel had just bought, stared at him. “Why would I do that?”
Daniel shrugged. “I’m sure you can think of better things to do than carry my Christmas shopping, Max.”
“But, I like this,” Max said, confused as to why Daniel would say this when they’ve been doing Hogsmeade weekend together since his second year. “Why would I not want to do this with you, Daniel?”
Daniel smiled wanly. He brushed a hand through the short hair on Max’s head, dislodging the snow gathered there. Max adjusted his grip on the books, feeling suddenly very hot. “Okay Maxy, okay. Butterbeer?”
At the Three Broomsticks, Max studiously ignored Charles’ knowing look while Daniel flirted with the barkeep into giving them free pudding.
_____
Daniel got him a scarf with an enchanted Snitch on it that Christmas. Max wore it despite the Charm fading too quickly, and the Snitch’s wings flapped tiredly, no longer zooming around the green expanse of it.
His father had told him it was cheap and childish and he shouldn’t be wearing it around like that if he wanted to be taken seriously.
Daniel had smiled softly when he saw it, and charmed the poor Snitch back to life.
This time, the Snitch flew, and flew and flew. Of course it would. Daniel was brilliant at Charms.
_____
The Yule Ball in Max’s sixth year was when Max could definitely tell that his relationship with Daniel was going to go to shit. If in his life they ever asked to pinpoint the exact moment, however, he probably would think it was when Daniel had jerked away from him, horrified, and disappeared into the hedge maze Professor Alonso and Professor Hulkenberg had conjured on the grounds. Or maybe it was when Kelly had huffed away from him for refusing to dance with her. Or when Daniil Kyvat had tried to hex him in the green tint of the Slytherin common room as he was getting ready for the ball, angry he had asked Kelly without ‘his permission’, which was stupid, they broke up a year ago, and besides why would Max care? He was only going because it was mandatory for fourth years and above.
Or maybe it had been seeing Daniel dance at the ball with Professor Berger, his robes glittering with tiny diamonds, looking beautiful and perfect and untouchable. His curls were styled, teeth gleaming as he deftly swirled her around, onlookers ooh-ing and aah-ing at just the right points.
(“What’s the point of bringing me, Max?” Kelly had hissed, nails digging into his arm. “You haven’t danced with me once.”
And well, Max didn’t have a right answer. Kelly was beautiful and rich and connected, heir to a broomstick empire, she had Veela blood somewhere in her family tree, and her father was about to enter into a lucrative deal with his father. That was why he had asked her. He didn’t want to dance with her.)
(She wasn’t Daniel.)
Kelly had huffed at his non-answer, flouncing off to where her friends were gathered, and no doubt she would be telling her dad about this, which would mean a Howler from his father soon enough. But he did not want to deal with that right now. Daniel had just left the Great Hall, and Professor Berger was back at the teachers’ table.
Max went after him, not quite sure what he was doing.
“Max!” Daniel said cheerfully when he caught up with him, halfway to the giant maze. Professor Hulkenberg had made it with some help from Professor Alonso, and it was lit from within with tiny fireflies no doubt charmed to keep students from getting too lost (Alonso was sadistic and had to be talked down from putting in minotaurs, despite him insisting they would be for “chaperoning” purposes only.) “Fancying a stroll? I’m just on a little bit of a chaperoning-sitch, if you want company?”
“Sure,” Max replied, unhearing. The way Daniel looked in those robes, emphasising his slim waist, his hair artfully styled and curled just so, he was staring. Daniel shifted a bit. “Are you okay, Max?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Max nodded furiously, running on ahead. “I’ll help you chaperone. I’ll be the greatest chaperone of course, why are you not walking faster?”
“Does the saying ‘snitches end up in ditches’ mean nothing to these children anymore?” Daniel said exasperatedly, but followed him in, casting a Lumos charm to light up the path ahead. The harsh white light somewhat ruined the soft yellow glow of the fireflies in the bushes.
There was nothing but just grass inside, darkened by the hedgerows rising above their heads. If there were students getting down and dirty in these bushes, Max did not see them. He could only see Daniel moving ahead of him, talking a mile a minute about how Professor Vettel had originally wanted Daniel to make the maze, and Alonso had thrown a snit. “I would have made this so much more fun, Maxy,” Daniel was saying, looking back at him and smiling. “None of this “Shining” business, but an actual fun maze. God, Nando is a dick. Who told him to make this so dark?”
Max didn’t know what the Shining was, and he didn’t actually want to ask. Sometimes it was better to just let Daniel ramble.
He liked listening to him ramble, honestly. Daniel had this habit of bringing up Muggle facts and stories like he expected Max to understand, and seemed tickled pink when Max asked questions.
There was a giant fuck-off fountain in the middle of the maze when they finally reached it, shivering in their robes, the night air having turned suddenly colder despite multiple charms to keep the grounds snow free for the Ball. The wizard stood on an island, brandishing the wand releasing a jetstream of water in the middle of the sculpture, seemingly carrying a large sack filled with boxes, and had very defined abs. The water sparkled like diamonds as it hit the bottom. The wizard looked very familiar.
“That’s Alonso, isn’t it?” Daniel made a face at him. Max sniggered.
“With a lot of artistic…liberties taken, of course,” Max replied, and Daniel’s teeth gleamed at him in the dim light of his wand. He was beautiful, Max decided. He didn’t know when he started thinking of Daniel as beautiful, maybe it was the party, maybe it was the way Daniel made him feel, maybe it was a lot of things. The toffee puddings, the tea, the flying lessons. The scarf.
“Daniel,” Max said, feeling a lump in his throat. Daniel hmmed, already casting a Homenum Revelio nonverbally.
“The place is empty, thank Merlin,” Daniel said, putting his wand away with a pleased look on his face. “We can get out of this hell hole, Maxy.”
Max stared at him.
“Max?”
Max lunged at him, clumsily knocking their teeth together, painful but Max got to finally put his fingers into those curls and tug. The warm of Daniel’s body was a welcome relief, and Max slotted their lips together, like he had seen in portraits and Muggle telly, he had never felt this way before –
Daniel pushed him off.
“Max, what the fuck – stop stop stop –”
Max stood blinking while Daniel backpedalled, tripped into the fountain, water splashing out at them both. Max leapt forward, trying to get him out, and it was all wrong, nothing was going right, this was not how Daniel was supposed to react.
“No, no, don’t touch me, Jesus,” Daniel actually splashed water at him, like Max was a misbehaving cat trying to get on a counter. He dragged himself out of the fountain, curls lying wetly against his forehead, his robes wet and sticking to him.
Max had probably dreamed of Daniel looking like this at some point in his life. Daniel did not look as angry in those dreams, however.
“Daniel, I just –”
“No, Max,” Daniel snapped, his eyes wild and his lashes very prominent. He looked like he had cried, but Max knew. He had never seen him this angry.
“Go back to the ball,” Daniel’s shoes were squeaking in the grass. He shakingly took out his wand, and Max knew he was attempting a non verbal warming spell but Daniel was so keyed up it was not working.
“Daniel, at least let me –”
“Verstappen,” Daniel said, already halfway out of the clearing. “I’m sorry if I may have accidentally allowed you to think this was anything beyond a mentorship, but please, please leave me alone?”
“I–Daniel–”
“Best if you call me Professor Ricciardo, please,” Daniel said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I can’t do this, I –, Max please just…leave me alone?”
Max’s mouth slammed shut. He watched dully as Daniel fled, and stood there in silence with the Alonso statute.
He could have sworn the damn thing was judging him.