Chapter Text
Arthur might have been a bit drunk. But that was okay, it was Saturday and school wasn’t until...Arthur was too tired to remember. Instead, he staggered, hopelessly up to his front door, nearly tripping over a crack in the pavement and fiddled with his keys. The quicker he unlocked his door, the faster he could fall asleep.
His roommate was still at the party so Arthur was welcomed by a dark empty flat. He didn't bother flicking on a light but instead felt his way to his bedroom—any bedroom really—and collapsing into a bed.
He thought he might have been asleep so he didn't immediately respond to the sound of dishes crashing. That had to be his roommate Fischer. He moaned into his pillow and squeezed it closer to his body. God, Fischer, shut up.
Fischer didn't shut up so Arthur crawled out from his bed and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen. Did Fischer have a flashlight? The kitchen was still mostly dark other than the person standing in the middle who was lit up by a dim light coming from something in their grip.
"Robert, what are you..."Arthur turned on the light and froze. That wasn't Fischer.
The man in his kitchen was broader than Fischer could ever hope to be and while Fischer's face was the king of cheekbones, this man's was the king of lips because ‘good God’...And he was holding a wooden stick.
"Nox," the man said and the light emanating from the stick flickered out. "I was wondering how you muggles lit up a room."
"Who the hell are you?" Arthur asked. "You're not Fischer."
"Yes it would appear I am not a...fish," the man said puzzled and amused by Arthur.
"What?" Arthur asked confused. "No, Fischer is my..." He was too drunk for this. "Are you robbing me? Because the most valuable things in this flat are my textbooks...and the kitchenware...That shit is expensive."
"No, Darling," the man said. "I simply appear to have stumbled into the wrong house."
"Yeah?" Arthur asked. "Most Probably."
"Sorry to interrupt your sleep."
Arthur frowned at him.
"And don't worry, Darling, when you wake up, you will 'most probably' attribute this to a dream so sweet dreams." He shook his stick around and simply popped out of existence.
"What?" Arthur mumbled aloud to the empty kitchen. "Still too drunk."