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"When are you coming?"

"Uh – I'll be a bit late. Sorry, Aiden."

"Come quick, Callum. The food is getting cold."

"On my way."

With a chuckle, Callum hung up and placed his phone back on the dashboard of his car. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his foot on the accelerator and drove on.

Traffic was particularly heavy that day, and he was left with drumming his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently, craning his neck every now and then to see whether the cars at the front were moving at all. Finally though, the congestion cleared, showing a tree which had fallen on the roadside from the storm that had passed a few hours ago, revealing the cause of traffic. He pressed hard on the accelerator and attempted to drive past the lingering vehicles. Aiden could get really cranky if he wasn't satisfied with his food.

Instead of heading directly to Aiden's flat however, he turned left into another road, drove a few blocks, then turned right again, coming upon rows of buildings on either side. He slowed down, trying to remember the exact location.

It was the peach tree that gave it away. He remembered seeing that the first time, and with a screeching of the tyres, he came to a halt, before parking his car on the side of the road. He glanced over at the tree and came out of the car.

A gloomy warehouse stood before him, with the windows smashed open, walls broken down and paint peeling off the cement. Through the windows, he saw the inside was pitch black. He tilted his head and waited. Seconds later, the warehouse began to transform. The gloominess dispersed as the windows lit up. Fresh paint coloured itself on the walls, and the warehouse increased in height, and suddenly became a well lit, two storey building, milling with life inside the walls. What had been row a of trash cans a second before, now became a row of bushes and wildflowers. A signboard hung on the front.

He had visited this place two weeks earlier with Aiden, or more accurately, they were passing by. He wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings, but Aiden had suddenly remarked, "Why don't they just tear that down?" Callum had looked to see him standing in front of the tumbled down warehouse, and in retrospect, he was quite glad that Aiden had stopped. Because even though it looked like an abandoned warehouse to Aiden, Callum could immediately tell that it was magic.

What had caught his attention though, were the words inscribed on the signboard in elegant, cursive letters. Harry Potter's Institution for Squibs. And underneath it, in smaller words, were written, In memory of all those who had given their lives in the First and Second Wizarding Wars.

He had been dumbfounded. He hadn't met Harry after he had come to visit him when the Wizarding War had ended, for he had left to Ireland for official purposes. He had returned to London only two years ago, where he settled down with a steady job, and lived in a small, elegant apartment in the quieter parts of the city. Aiden and he visited each other frequently.

Aiden had begun to act strange suddenly, he remembered. As soon as he had got too close to the warehouse, he had suddenly perked up and said something along the lines of, "I need to go home and finish my assignment." Callum guessed that it was the magic incorporated into the building in order to keep prying muggles away. He had wondered, for a moment, why he didn't feel that way too. But Hermione's words all those years ago came back to him. Muggles and squibs aren't exactly alike. . . Filch is a squib, but he can stay at Hogwarts despite all the muggle repulsion charms put there.

Callum reached the low wrought iron gate that led into the building, and hesitated.  Swallowing nervously, he pushed it open and entered. He blinked several times, suddenly feeling disoriented, for the inside was much, much, bigger than he had expected, than it could technically be possible. But then again, it was magic. It probably wasn't something very uncommon.

The doorway to the building was open, and he entered, coming upon a narrow corridor. The first thing he noticed were the small words carved into the walls on either side of him. Upon closer inspection, he saw they were the names of people, presumably all those who had died in the wars. There were too many, and he felt a twist in his gut. Drawing his eyes away, he walked through the corridor and reached a hallway, where he found a few people moving around. There were kids as well as adults, though they weren't doing anything in particular. But he did notice the rows of benches and tables facing a blackboard, which, more than anything else, firmed the impression of a school.

He hovered by the entry awkwardly, unable to figure out what to do, and indeed why had come here in the first place. But fortunately, he found a familiar face among the people and walked over to her.

She was facing away from him, knelt down on the carpeted floor and laughing with a toddler with red hair. It was the woman's bushy brown hair that immediately made him recognise her.

Hermione didn't notice him, and neither did she turn around when he spoke.

"Hello. I was wondering, what exactly does this school do?"

She tilted her head slightly, though her attention remained focused on the toddler who was squirming in her arms. "It can hardly be called a school really," she said with a laugh. "We take in squibs of all ages and help them know more about the wizarding world. Wizards visit here too, to share their knowledge. But yes, you can also call it a school as well, because we teach the squibs aspects of the wizarding world if they are interested in pursuing a career – oh! It's Callum, isn't it?"

She was speaking very fast, and only noticed him when the girl, her daughter as he presumed, toddled away from her to play with one of the other children there. She stood up, and that was when he noticed the small bump on her stomach.

"Hi," he smiled and extended a hand to shake. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, Harry said you went to Ireland?"

He nodded. "I returned two years back." He looked around. On one side of the room were several book shelves filled with large, old–fashioned books. Two young men were sitting on the floor by the shelves and looking through a book, in which, he could see, the pictures were moving. They looked highly amused.

"How is this running?" he asked as he looked at Hermione, but again trailed his eyes over his surroundings, suddenly feeling exceptionally happy.

"Well, squibs aren't very common, you see?" answered Hermione. "But we did receive more response than we had expected. Because squibs aren't registered by the Ministry, and because many parents hide the fact that they have birthed a squib, we didn't actually know the real demographics." She smiled fondly and waved her hands to gesture to the surroundings. "But you can see we're doing quite good."

And indeed, he saw it quite well.

"Do you work here?"

"No," she said with a laugh, her hand coming to rest over her abdomen. "No, I have a job at the Ministry. But my daughter loves playing with the kids here, so I bring her here often."

When Callum left the place a few minutes later, his heart was soaring and he had a smile on his face.

_/_/_/

Aiden looked positively mad when he finally reached his apartment. Callum smiled apologetically and quickly entered the kitchen, where he headed over to the sink to wash his hands and sat down at the table, not giving Aiden the opportunity to speak. He joined him a minute later and sat opposite him, sending him a cool glare before digging into the food.

"What took you so long?" he asked several minutes later, seeming quite calm now as the food has graced his throat.

"Traffic," he answered. "A tree fell in the middle of the road."

Once their dinner was over, Aiden led him inside the house to the balcony of his bedroom. Just like his childhood home that Callum had visited frequently, the balcony showed his love for everything green. Several potted bonsai plants lined the walls, while small clay containers with small plants hung from the ceiling. The wall was painted a light green, effectively giving the impression of being surrounded by nature.

No one spoke for a long time as they leaned against the railing and sipped their tea. Callum's mind went back to the institution he had just returned from, and a bubble of pleasant emotions ran up and down his body, flooding him with happiness he hasn't felt in a long time. His hand went up to ruffle his hair when Aiden spoke.

"Did something happen? You look happy."

This made him realise that he had been smiling. But instead of wiping away the smile, he broadened it. "Really? What gave it away?"

Aiden rolled his eyes.

"Your stutter has stopped, I see," Callum stated and took a large gulp of his tea, draining the cup.

"It has," he said, not sounding very joyful whatsoever. "It took a long time though –"

"That doesn't matter," said Callum slowly, placing his now empty cup on the railing and giving him a meaningful look. "At least you did it. See that as an accomplishment."

A small smile found its way to his face. Aiden stood on his toes before leaning forward and placing a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

Callum smiled. "See you tomorrow?" He nodded.

As Callum got into his car once more, he inserted the key into the ignition, but instead of turning it, he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel, his mind reeling with thoughts.

He wasn't sure what Aiden's feelings towards him were these days. He'd never asked, and simply assumed that he had grown out of it. But sometimes there were moments of subtle intimacy – a small kiss or a light brush of the fingers – which left him confused for the next few hours. He wanted to ask him, but he feared that it wouldn't end well.

After his breakup with Harry, he had dated exactly twice, and none of them have lasted more than two months. But then his workload increased and any thoughts of getting into a relationship was pushed to the back of his mind. After his return to London and his reunion with Aiden though, he began to think about it once more.

His life had been an array of colours, but for the majority of it, it had been grey. He hadn't expected anything else anyway, always being happy with what he was, with just the small amount of self doubt infested into his mind by his birth parents.

When he had stumbled upon Harry however, he somehow managed to splash some bright colours into his grey life, making him see, for the first time, that his life was beautiful, and the people in it were beautiful. He saw the colours he had always wanted to see – ruby red, navy blue, crimson – the vibrant colours that would bring vivid images into his otherwise dull life. He absolutely loved it.

Aiden, on the other hand, brought him colours of much lighter shades – pastel pink, white, periwinkle. He didn't see them. Not initially. Not until Harry's colours began to fade. For it was the universal rule – the best things don't last. And it was only when the colours had faded into the same grey colour of his life, did he realise that light colours were what he needed all along.

When Callum lifted his head from the steering wheel, his mind was buzzing. Taking his key out of the ignition, he left the car and reentered the building.

The door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open. Hesitantly, he walked up to the kitchen, where he found Aiden standing by the sink and washing the plates. He was humming a tune to himself.

Biting his lips, he mutely went over to stand beside him. Aiden jumped and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Callum! What – what are you doing here? I thought you had left."

Callum smiled in embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't want to scare you." He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and began to help with the dishes. Aiden was still too shocked to protest. "You don't mind if I stay here for a few more minutes, do you?"

Aiden shook his head rapidly, most likely to shake off the alarm. Then he glanced at him briefly before giving a warm smile. "The more the merrier."

The transformation of the colours hadn't been easy for Callum, and it had taken ages for him to realise what he really wanted. But now as he smiled and began to help Aiden, he realised that his life has come to a point where vibrant and soft colours blended to form something far more beautiful than he could ever have imagined.

And he was more than happy with it.

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