Archive of Our Own

Before it even starts, Jisung knows that his sixth year at Hogwarts will be a very different one compared to the previous five.

Glancing quickly at the watch on his left hand, he knows he has to quicken his pace, and he curses under his breath at the borderline workout so early in the morning.

After leaving the car, his sister has overtaken him (not that Jisung has been running then, he definitely has not been and never will be in such hurry to catch the train to school ) and all he sees is her lilac hair, drawing his attention, eye-catching in the crowd of thousands of travelers on King’s Cross. Were it not for that color, he would probably have lost her in the mass of people a long time ago.

Jisung sighs heavily, hurriedly throwing ‘excuse me’s to everyone, then sharply shoving between people, having no other choice but to push them when they just don’t move and he’s forced to make way through the crowd. He hates that his dad has insisted on getting to the station this way—if they’d just teleported using the portkey, they might have made it on time for the first time since they started attending school.

Eunji is waiting for him in front of platform 9¾, impatiently tapping her foot against the stone ground. As soon as she makes him out in the crowd, she shakes her head scoldingly and walks over to grab his arm forcefully and push him—and his stroller—through the wall. A part of him wonders where she gets all this strength from.

But before Jisung can register what is happening, he feels a prickling sensation in his stomach. It passes as quickly as it comes, changing for the familiar scent of magic reaching his nose as he plants his feet steadily on the ground of the platform.

“Jisung,” Eunji elbows him in the side, “I’ll see you in the castle.” 

She doesn’t even give him a chance to respond, immediately disappearing into the crowd of people on the platform. Jisung shakes his head with a smile and pats his sweater to straighten up the wrinkles. Striding confidently towards the train, he heads for the familiar side of the Slytherin wagon.

This year, his friends have decided that they won’t be meeting until the yearly feast already in the castle, with Felix busy with the prefects’ duties, and Hyunjin and Jeongin with their sneaky things to discuss. (It’s not that Jisung feels offended that they haven’t included him, absolutely, definitely, not at all!)

In the compartment they usually occupy, he quickly finds the only Slytherin buddy out of his small group of friends, Seungmin. With a warm smile and a warmer hug as his choice of greeting, Jisung plops himself down on the seat across from him, stretching out his legs with a satisfied sigh.

A pleasant silence falls between them, as Seungmin lazily flips through the pages of his spell book and Jisung stares out the window as the train starts to move, then begins to accelerate until it finally leaves London, and all he can see outside the window are the grassy hills.

“I’ll go look for the trolley,” says Seungmin some time later, setting the book on a small table by the window. “You want something?”

Jisung shakes his head, allowing the other Slytherin to leave the compartment freely and close the door quietly behind himself.

Maybe Jisung feels a little uneasy when he’s alone and Hyunjin’s loud laughter isn’t irritating his ears. The silence, vastly different from the one he usually shares with his friends, makes his thoughts run. 

He wonders if Felix has casted a spell on his hair again to make it bright, and if Jeongin still is obsessed with caramel as an addition to absolutely everything as he was before the holidays, and even Hyunjin occupies his thoughts with Jisung thinking about whether he managed to convince his parents to let him attend a music festival in one of the muggle town he’d been talking about since the information came out.

Jisung hasn’t seen any of them during the summer.

His dad took him and Eunji on an annual family vacation to Korea, every day blurring with the amount of things they’d seen and done, so he hadn’t even had the time to owl them and ask if they’d been doing okay.

When he returned home in August, visiting them hadn’t been the best idea either, because Jisung has never traveled with Floo powder abroad alone, and it so happened that only Seungmin lives in the UK, like he does. Visiting Jeongin or Hyunjin during his stay in Korea had been out of limit, too, when he had spent half of his summer in a small town with no access to magic because of the age restrictions, his sister his only companion.

Interrupting his thoughts, the compartment door slides open with a creak. Jisung notices Felix’s powdery pink hair before his mind registers anything else.

Felix is grinning when his eyes land on him and immediately closes all the distance, wasting no time before pulling Jisung into a bone-crushing hug. “Good Merling, Jisung, I missed you so bad!” 

The grin on his face mirroring Felix’s own, Jisung pulls away from the embrace to carefully study his friend’s bright face. 

“You changed your hair again,” he states, even though that’s the first thing he’s noticed. Felix nods vigorously, like he’s positively surprised that Jisung pays attention, even though everyone does. “You look more like a fairy every single time I see you after a break.” 

Felix pouts at his words, rolling his eyes playfully. “Ah, don’t be kidding. Hyunjin calling me that for years was enough, you don’t have to keep reviving his ideas.”

Raising his eyebrows, Jisung points out, “You like it when Hyunjin calls you that.” 

Felix decides to keep pretending that it’s not true and shakes his head vigorously, trying to cover his flushed face with the wide sleeves of his black robe under the pretense of brushing his hair back. He kicks Jisung in the shin lightly, though, only proving his jabs true.

In retaliation, Jisung jumps, clutching his leg in pain, and he honestly thinks he could easily land a lead role in a Broadway performance with how top tier his acting is. Felix, ever skeptical, quirks an eyebrow, laughter barely held back behind his lips pressed together into a thin line.

Not wanting to listen to Jisung’s accusations any longer, Felix backs away towards the door, swiftly sliding it open.

“See you in the evening,” he throws over his shoulder with a charming smile, making Jisung feel warm all over, before leaving him in the compartment alone and taking the warmth with him.

Soon after, though, Seungmin returns with a huge bag of sweets in his hands. It doesn’t really come off as a surprise, since he’s always the one providing their group of friends with the biggest and the most delicious amount of food, but Jisung still dedicates a moment to stare at Seungmin in utmost adoration.

“I ran into Felix on my way back,” he says, opening the chest under his seat to take out his robes to change. “He said he’d gotten us muggle booze for tonight.”

Funny. A year back, Seungmin himself was against drinking before the first day of classes, deeming it foolish and irresponsible, since the teachers are always more attentive in the beginning of the school year and it would be easy to get in trouble.

But Jisung isn’t going to complain about the sudden change of attitude. It’s their penultimate year at Hogwarts—he plans to use all this time one hundred percent, to the limits, with his friends by his side. They don’t have major exams this time, so the responsibilities and the pressure aren’t as heavy as they have been last year.

Jisung had the worst time last year, barely sleeping trying to keep up with all the schoolwork and simultaneously study for the upcoming exams; his hands still shake when he thinks about last June.

Glancing out of the window of the Hogwarts Express, even in the dark, Jisung manages to recognize they’re getting closer to the castle, but there’s still a long way to go. He follows Seungmin’s lead and puts on the robes that have been lying on the seat next to him, though, and then he stretches his limbs out on the empty seat, using the material of his uniform as a blanket.

“Merlin, I wanna be in the castle already,” he groans, letting his eyes fall shut. He doesn’t particularly miss school or deathly amounts of homework, but it would be nice to lie down in the familiar bed he likes instead of a stiff couch on a train.

Seungmin hums in agreement, but he’s focused on the darkening view outside the window.

The silence in the compartment, broken every now and then by the static sounds of the train moving along the tracks, lulls Jisung to sleep in no time. It feels as if only minutes later Seungmin is poking his cheek to wake him up, but with the overhead light glaring a golden hue above him, he knows it’s much later. When Jisung looks out through the fogged window, he sees they have already arrived at the Hogsmeade Station.

Seungmin is ready to leave the train, too, his chest pulled from under the seat for easier access. “I think everyone’s left, pretty much.” 

He waited, gifting Jisung those precious moments of sleep like the sweetest person in the world.

“You can go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Jisung tells him, already prepared for that strange look Seungmin always gives him.

He just doesn’t get it why Jisung minds pushing through the traffic of students, all eager to finally step out of the train so much, but—understanding as ever—he only shrugs, not bothering to ask. 

“I’ll save us a seat at the table,” he says before sliding open the door and leaving the compartment, an easy smile on his lips. 

Jisung straightens on the uncomfortable train seat, bones cracking, making him scrunch his face in a strange feeling of disgust. Sometimes he’s all too aware of his own body. 

He sighs, closing his eyes for another blissful moment, and waits until there’s definitely no one other than him on the train—or at least in this car—until the only thing he can hear is his own breathing. 

No one really understands why he always waits for everyone to leave before he gets off himself, and Jisung doesn’t bother trying to understand it, either. It’s just the way things are and he feels better like this—alone, with a moment to gather his thoughts before the new school year officially starts and he’s thrown into a pit full of other students, without any chance to take a break. 

Jisung runs fingers through his brown hair, eyes finally fluttering open. It’s almost eerily quiet, no hushed voices and suppressed laughter, no sounds of footsteps or the train moving. 

He stands up, legs wobbly after hours spent in the same position. He fixes the collar of his snow-white shirt and the green tie around his neck, using the window as a mirror to deem himself presentable enough.

His dark cloak flaps in the evening breeze as he makes his way out of the compartment and gets off the train, the slight chill sending shivers down his spine. Jisung shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans, cursing under his breath for forgetting how cold it can get during late summer in Great Britain. 

He can’t help but notice a dark figure in his periphery, a sight that makes him stop in his tracks. From the distance (and without his glasses) he can’t recognize the person properly, yet he squints his eyes, as if that could help.

The figure suddenly turns his way.

Jisung startles, embarrassed about being caught staring so shamelessly, and begins walking towards the castle again, leaving the person behind. But with how his cheeks flush bright red, the heat a reminder, he can’t get the sight out of his head.

Lee Minho has gone blond.

This information definitely shouldn’t occupy his thoughts like it does all the way to the castle. It’s almost embarrassing.

When Jisung finally reaches the door of the Great Hall, he feels like he’s lost his breath. He tries to stabilize the sudden pounding of his heart and steps into the room through the grand door flung open.

His eyes instantly—out of habit—shoot up to stare at the enchanted ceiling. Something about this night sky makes Jisung think about how he hasn’t seen it this beautiful in a long time. But maybe it’s just the way he’s missed it over the holidays.

He sweeps his eyes over the room, the loud chatter and overload of senses way too overwhelming, and finds Seungmin seated at their usual spot. He makes his way towards the Slytherin table and drops onto the seat next to his friend with a sigh.

Seungmin doesn’t bat an eye, still looking around insistently, though Jisung knows he isn’t actively looking for anything or anyone specific. It’s just the way he is—he needs to see and perceive and analyze.

“I hate when it gets so loud,” he mutters; Jisung nods in understanding. “Like, what’s stopping you from yelling about how you missed each other and hugging and crying and whatever after the feast? It’s annoying.” 

“Not everyone can be as smart as we are,” Jisung sing-songs, but Seungmin shoots him a look and he snaps his mouth shut immediately. And yet, a smile still wanders across his face as he reaches out to grab a cup of orange juice.

He’s interrupted when Seungmin smacks his hand; Jisung presses it to his own chest protectively with an offended expression.

“The feast hasn’t started yet,” Seungmin scolds.

“It has, for me,” Jisung says, rolling his eyes, and grins when his friend does the same, only to mock him. He ends up pouring himself a cup of the juice and slurps it loudly just to get a raise out of Seungmin. He can’t really tell if it’s working.

A moment later, Headmistress Bae steps out to the front, silencing everyone in the room with a hand gesture. It’s been six years since he’s first seen her do that, yet her power still amazes him every time. Though not enough to make him actually pay attention to what she says; he’s had enough of warnings and greetings during his first year—he has heard this speech what feels like a hundred times by now. 

When the first years step into the Great Hall, simultaneously frightened and amazed, Jisung does everything in his power not to laugh out loud. He’s trying to be a little understanding—he knows he wore the same expression when he first stepped into the castle—but, Merlin, they’re just really funny. 

Still, Jisung remains awfully bored, head propped up on his hand, praying to Merlin for the feast to end quickly so he doesn’t have to suffer any longer. Seungmin saves him from falling asleep by the table, though, suggesting a silly competition; he wants to take guesses about the kids’ houses before they get to put on the Hat and get sorted into one of the houses.

It’s nothing spectacular, but Jisung figures anything will be more entertaining than staring into a bowl of mashed potatoes. And his competitive Slytherin nature won’t let him pass the chance to shine, anyway.

In the end, though, Jisung loses. He’s not as good with his intuition as he thought he was and has to stomachSeungmin grinning like he’s just won a trip to some tropical island that prolongs his vacation for another two weeks.

Still, Seungmin is nice enough to promise to get him a tub of his favorite cherry ice-cream from the Kitchens in the evening as a consolation prize. 

When the feast is over, everyone in the Great Hall erupts into a buzz, conversations loud, voices mixing up together into an incoherent mess. This time, Jisung isn’t that bothered by the noise, mostly because Jeongin appears in the crowd, waving at them as he pushes through the sea of students.

Seungmin just nods disapprovingly as Jisung pulls Jeongin into his arms, ignoring his loud protests. The screams must be what makes Hyunjin notice them, though, so they have no reason to complain. Felix is trotting slightly behind him, greeting everyone he’s meeting on his way with a smile and a few words. 

“Let’s meet up in an hour near the Hufflepuff common room,” he says when he finally comes to a stop beside them, easily slinging an arm over Jisung’s shoulders. 

As he’d mentioned in one of the few letters they’d exchanged over the summer, Hyunjin managed to convince their roommates to let them use their dormitory for the evening, promising them muggle beer.

Jisung can only assume he and Felix have already set the room up comfortably enough to guest them for the night.

✦

The next time they see each other, Jeongin is waiting for him and Seungmin at the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room wearing sweatpants and a pink sweatshirt. He’s got a bag in his hand, one definitely full of food that Jisung just can’t wait to devour.

They let themselves in with no issues and, surprisingly, the Hufflepuffs scattered around the room don’t even bat an eye at the intruders stepping through the door. The last time they tried to get into the Ravenclaw common room, they got cursed out and chased away. 

But upon entering Hyunjin and Felix’s dormitory, Jisung feels like he’s never going to leave—they’re going to have to drag him out of here in a damn coffin, for all he cares.

It’s definitely different than what he’s used to, full of flickering lights and candles, blankets and pillows and a small coffee table in the center of the circular rug. Usually they just throw themselves on the carpeted floor with chips and crumbs all over the place, and Jisung has never complained before but he might just start. This is raising his expectations. 

Felix is already sitting cross-legged on the floor, gesturing for them to come inside and join him. “Hyunjin will be back soon,” he says with a smile.

Jisung immediately plops down next to him. He sets the bag of sweets he’s brought from the house elves on the coffee table, watching as Jeongin and Seungmin do the same. They immediately jump into comfortable conversations that aren’t especially interesting as they’re already complaining about the class schedule they’ll get in the morning.

Hyunjin returns in time to find them pouring wine into glasses and smiles in satisfaction upon noticing that they aren’t leaving him out. He doesn’t say where he was and Jisung isn’t the one to pry, but by the look of his messy hair and flushed cheeks, he assumes Hyunjin must’ve been outside for some reason. As he sits down, Felix reaches his hand to run his fingers through his hair, making Hyunjin smile softly, eyes creasing as he leans into the touch.

Jisung shakes his head just as Felix asks what are their plans for the night.

“We could watch a movie,” Hyunjin suggests; Jisung knows that he bought a projector and he’s hoping to try it out and there’s hardly a chance to do that on any other day.

“Movies are boring!” Felix chimes in, surprisingly far from agreeing with Hyunjin. “The only cool thing about them is that you can cuddle.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, though he silently agrees. He’s had his fair share of movie marathons over the summer, but he and Eunji were sprawled on the opposite ends of the couch, sporadically throwing popcorn at one another and retaliating with forceful kicks. 

“I have an idea, but we need to loosen up first. Like, for real,” Seungmin proposes.

Jeongin snorts, eyebrows shooting up. “What are you planning, Kim Seungmin?”

Jisung, on the other hand, doesn’t pay them any mind, not really caring about what they would be doing. He shrugs, reaching out for a bottle of Muggle beer. That’s why he’s here—to loosen up. Like, for real.

He chugs down the beverage as his friends bicker and argue about what to do, not entirely trusting Seungmin’s ideas, and even as he’s putting the empty bottle aside a long moment later to join the pile of trash, they’ve digressed into another topic.

Hours later, when the sky enchanted up on the ceiling has begun to shine, scattered with stars and nameless constellations, and their gossip about the Hogwarts students have taken a different turn, Seungmin (who is not doing as well as he thinks he is) presents his genius idea.

Felix quickly argues, strangely difficult this time around. “Playing truth or dare is boring,” he says.

“Maybe the Muggle version, but we are wizards, baby.”

Jisung giggles.

Seungmin has a habit of addressing people with petnames when he’s tipsy, awfully clingy and affectionate, quite the opposite to how he usually is.

Felix shrugs, giving up the fight, and sits up to prop his elbows up on the table as Hyunjin takes one of the empty bottles and sets it in the middle of the messy circle they’re making. They stare at it for a moment without any further plans.

Frankly, Jisung has a few doubts about the idea and wonders if it can turn out any good. Judging by the sluggish expressions of his friends, neither of them is especially intrigued by Seungmin’s idea, but they have yet to find anything better than this.

(Note to self: Jisung should remind them to figure out their future activities before the actual meeting.) 

Hyunjin, who’s the oldest of them, does the first spin and the bottle lands on Jisung.

“Truth,” he says with a shit-eating grin, making them all groan in unison.

“It’ll be so boring,” Felix wails.

Hyunjin shushes them. “Out of us, who’d you like to swap bodies with?” 

“Seungmin,” Jisung shrugs as if it’s common knowledge. Everyone looks at him expectantly to elaborate, so he sighs, feigning exasperation. “He’s really hot. Like, if I had to choose the hottest person at Hogwarts, it’d be him.” 

Seungmin pretends to gag at his words yet Jisung sends him a wink, unmoved. He leaves his friend’s reddened cheeks without a comment, ever so merciful, and reaches out to spin the bottle.

“Yah, Felix. Truth or dare?” 

“Truth. Just don’t embarrass me,” he says, taking a sip of wine out of his glass, probably to gain some courage. 

“As if you could be embarrassing among this group,” Jisung snorts, clearing his throat. “Well, who was your first kiss?” He ignores the annoyed groans of his bored friends, eyes fixed on Felix, though he honestly isn’t that interested in the answer. 

“I guess… It was right before the fourth year. With a girl from my old neighbourhood. It was really bad since none of us could actually kiss, so…” 

Hyunjin quirks an eyebrow. “And now you know how to kiss?” 

“If you’re so curious, I’ll show you.” 

“Gross!” Jeongin shrieks. “You guys seriously should stop flirting like we aren’t here. Have some decency.”

Felix gives him a look that Jisung can’t decipher, reaches for the jelly beans on the floor, and eats them like nothing’s happened, though he’s clearly just stuffing his cheeks to not be forced to speak.

They keep spinning the bottle and yelling when someone comes up with a good question or a dare that’s completely gross, but is completed anyway. When it’s not his turn to be a little disgusting, Jisung doesn’t pay much attention to the events unfolding before his eyes. It’s like his brain goes into a haze; he laughs but can’t tell why and boos when his friends do. His whole body is relaxed, fingers skimming around the rim of his glass of wine. The warmth spreading around his body as he takes another sip makes him feel cozy. 

He’s feeling quite comfortable, until the very moment Seungmin spins the bottle again and it lands on Jisung.

“Truth,” he says again.

Jeongin groans, throwing his head back. “Pathetic. There’s no fun with you.” 

Jisung throws a chip at him, because he’s already had his fair share of gross dares for the night. “I won’t take another dare ‘cause knowing you guys, you’ll make me do some pitifully embarrassing things like kissing or yelling in the hallway that I have a crush on someone.” 

“As if someone here’d like to kiss you,” says Hyunjin with fake disgust, as Jisung tries to convince himself.

He smirks, making a kissy face in his direction. “Don’t even deny it, Jinnie.”

Felix bursts out laughing, like it’s the joke of the century, face lighting up when Hyunjin scrunches his face and gags, sending a middle finger Jisung’s way. 

“Just admit you're a coward,” Jeongin sing-songs.

Jisung might be many things, but he is definitely not a coward. Despite Slytherin being associated with cowardice, Jisung is quite far from that, though he isn’t particularly brave, either. He isn’t going to chicken out, though, especially not when they’re clearly baiting him. 

He takes another sip of wine and speaks out with a fierce expression: “Come on, Seungmin. Give me a dare.” 

Seungmin thinks for a moment and then smiles cheekily; Jisung realizes he might be in danger. “Sneak into one of the common rooms with someone and steal a piece of clothing and wear it all day tomorrow,” he declares.

Hyunjin lets out a low whistle. Jeongin just straight-up bursts out laughing, patting Jisung on the shoulder. 

“Whose?” Jisung asks boldly, only hoping it won’t be Gryffindor or a very annoying student who could hex him for stealing their clothes.

Seeing that Seungmin can’t come up with someone interesting, Jeongin quickly arrives with help. “Lee Minho! Sneak up on Lee Minho!” he exclaims.

Jisung blinks, heartbeat skyrocketing at the mere mention of the name. A disaster—it already feels like a disaster.

Still, ever so stubborn, he grabs a bottle of wine by the neck and takes a swig. He stands up and pulls Jeongin by the hand, lifting him up. “Come on, loser, since you’re so creative, we’re going on this mission together.”

Jeongin looks like he wants nothing more than to kick Jisung right in the face. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad of an idea for Jisung, either.

The Ravenclaw takes a deep breath, though, and musters the fakest smile he’s ever worn, one dripping with malice. He grabs Jisung’s hand, leading him out of the dormitory without giving himself a chance to back out.

Hyunjin, Felix, and Seungmin leave right after them, sticking their heads out from the railing, trying their best to be quiet in the dead of night, watching as they get out of the Hufflepuff common room—not without stumbling.

Jeongin gets them to the Ravenclaw Tower with a shortcut, through a passage behind a curtain next to the kitchen, though all the stairs they have to take are challenging enough to make Jisung feel dizzy. 

Jeongin walks ahead, lighting the way with his wand; he looks quite stable, only stumbling a few times and regaining his balance in no time, gripping the stone walls of the castle. He answers the riddle of the eagle knocker, the speed of his brain surprising even Jisung. 

As they cautiously enter the warm and welcoming common room, Jeongin looks around, breathing a sigh of relief when he doesn’t notice any student lingering around the place. 

He gestures for Jisung to follow him and they quietly walk over to the boys’ dorms; the winding staircase is messing with Jisung’s brain while he’s just that slightly intoxicated. Still, they somehow manage to climb up without breaking their necks.

When they finally end up in front of the right door, Jisung’s heart is still pounding, harder than before, although he will insist it’s because of the distance he had to cover from the Hufflepuff common room up to here.

Jeongin turns off the light coming out of his wand using the Nox spell, giving them a moment to stabilize their breaks in the quiet darkness of the hallway. 

“You’ll be okay?” Jeongin asks in a whisper, his hesitance concealed up until now making Jisung roll his eyes. 

“I’m not drunk. I’ll be quick.”

Jeongin nods, but Jisung can barely make the motion out in the dark. “His bed is on the left, just by the window.” he whispers. “Now, go.” 

Jisung doesn’t even get a chance to wonder how the hell Jeongin knows that, because the boy has already quietly turned the handle, opening the door, and is pushing him inside.

Jisung struggles to keep his balance and unintentionally lets a curse slip past his lips. He pauses mid-step when someone on one of the beds moves in their sleep, but luckily, it only ends in indecipherable muttering coming from that direction, not an angry Ravenclaw jumping out to strangle him for breaking in.

Jisung bites down on his lower lip to keep quiet and heads left as instructed by Jeongin.

The bed he’s looking at is covered with a curtain on one side, but that doesn’t stop the light from pouring onto the boy. The moon illuminates Lee Minho’s face, casting an almost magical glow over his features.

His mouth is slightly parted, and he’s hugging a cat plushie—that sight makes Jisung stop in his tracks, just so he can take a good look and make sure he’s not just imagining it. Minho is mumbling something in his sleep, frowning, and moving around, and Jisung shouldn’t be just standing over him and staring, and he has mentally slapped himself three times in the face already for not making it quick, but he just can’t help himself.

Finally, after what feels like hours, when Minho rolls over onto his stomach and away from Jisung, he turns towards the wall to get a piece of clothing from the rack by Minho’s bed.

His eyes fall on a black hoodie with an embroidered blue eagle on the chest. Jisung is sure the sweatshirt has Minho’s name on its back, mostly because the players from the Slytherin Quidditch team also have a personalized wardrobe.

Therefore, not really wanting to waste more time by looking through Minho’s clothes more intently, Jisung grabs the hoodie from the hanger in a swift movement, not even casting a single glance back at the bed, a part of him scared he could find Minho wide awake.

The metal creaks. Jisung scrunches his face in a grimace, body freezing. Hurriedly, he turns on his heel, bothering to look neither at Minho’s bed, nor at his roommates’. He clutches the hoodie to his chest and runs the hell out of that dormitory.

Jeongin is waiting for him at the door, leaning against the wall. “I started thinking you wouldn’t get out of there,” he whispers, closing the door to the room behind Jisung. “What did you take?”

Jisung grins mischievously and unfolds the hoodie, spreading it out and showing the blue letters on the back spelling out ‘LEE 05’. Jeongin’s mouth falls open in shock. He holds out his hand for Jisung to high-five. 

“He’ll have a heart attack tomorrow.”

“When he sees me, yes. Though I hope he makes it through breakfast, ‘cause I’m not letting him alone.”

Jeongin chuckles, leading them out of the common room. Jisung walks beside him, heart still pounding fast in his chest. With the sweatshirt slung over his shoulder, he can smell it, the scent of the artificial citrus fabric softener pleasantly irritating his nose. He’s already intoxicated with alcohol, and the sweet scent of oranges makes his head spin a little bit more.

Nothing has happened yet and Jisung already knows just how utterly screwed he is.

When they reach the Hufflepuff common room and then Hyunjin and Felix’s dormitory, the boys sitting on the floor immediately shriek in unison as their eyes land on the sweatshirt slung over Jisung’s shoulder, the curfew appartengly long forgotten.

They spend the rest of the night laughing outrageously as they finish off the last of the wine and honey beer, dying to know the tiniest details of Jisung’s escapade, even though it’s not as adventurous as they make it out to be.

That night, Jisung dozes off with the smell of fresh oranges lulling him to sleep where the hoodie serves as his cuddle pillow.

✦

Jisung wakes up the next morning cuddled up to Seungmin, his head throbbing relentlessly from the very moment he blinks his eyes open. He usually isn’t the first to wake up after their hangouts, so he lies back down and enjoys the silence that he’s sure won’t last long. He knows Hyunjin will wake up in a moment and immediately give them a healing potion, saving their day from becoming a total disaster.

Hyunjin likes potions as does Jisung. Maybe a little more—definitely a lot more. He has even signed up for extracurricular classes for the advanced, knowing full well that mostly older students will be there. He said it would look good when he took the Healer exams so Jisung hasn’t asked about anything else. 

Jisung himself hasn’t signed up for any extracurriculars, but he knows he will have to do that soon, and Potions seem interesting enough to not bore him to death. And he knows Hyunjin would appreciate his company if he decided to show up.

Jisung sighs.

He turns on the other side, swinging his leg over Seungmin’s hips and pulling him closer. Seungmin mumbles something in his sleep, and Jisung has to press a hand against his own mouth to stop himself from giggling.

Seungmin, alerted, flutters his eyes open and pulls away with a grimace when the first thing he sees is Jisung’s grin. “Merlin, you scared me,” he mumbles, voice hoarse, but then he scoots back over, cuddling up to Jisung again.

He tilts his head back, looking around the room, and raises his eyebrows as he sees Jeongin sprawled on Hyunjin’s bed while the boy himself is sleeping on the carpet with Felix. 

Jisung has no questions. Jisung prefers not to have any questions.

Seungmin apparently thinks the same, for he props on his elbow, grabs one of the pillows scattered all over the floor and throws it at Hyunjin, who jolts awake.

“I’m not sleeping!” he yells, making both Slytherins burst into laughter.

“Shut up,” they hear Jeongin mumble as he shifts under the covers. That bastard broke the first unspoken rule and slipped into the bed over the night, when they all fell asleep. “I wanna sleep.”

“You can’t. We’ve got classes and there’s still a show to be made during breakfast.” 

Jisung blinks, the events of the previous night returning with a rush. Noticing the realization flashing across his features, Seungmin sends him a pitying look, but doesn’t speak up.

“I don’t have classes until ten,” complains Jeongin, whining and pulling a blanket up over his face. 

“But you gotta see Lee’s face when Jisung completes his dare,” says Felix out of nowhere, voice hoarse. 

They all shift to look at him and find him rubbing sleep away from his eyes. His pastel hair is messy, sticking out in all possible directions, and yet Jisung feels absolutely endeared. He’s not going to say that out loud, though.

Hyunjin stands up, bones cracking, and walks quietly to his bedside table, taking out a large vial of pearl-colored elixir. He grabs one of the—hopefully clean—glasses off the table and pours the potion right into it.

As everyone drinks it up—just a sip, not more—and starts their morning routines, Jisung realizes that he is for real about to enter the Great Hall wearing Lee Minho’s sweatshirt. It’s not that big of a deal, but—considering he’s hardly ever spoken to the guy—the vision leaves him a little jittery.

He doesn’t have a plan, even though his friends tried to come up with something last night, ever so helpful. They told him about flirting as a way to make it all funnier, but Jisung isn’t quite sure his silly mouth is capable of flirting at all.  

The only thing motivating him and preventing him from backing the hell out is the satisfaction he’ll get of taking his friends down a peg. Han Jisung is not a coward—they’re all about to see!

While he brushes his teeth and combs his hair, his heart continues pounding in his chest, as if there’s even something to be nervous about. It’s not like Lee Minho is going to kill him, right? Maybe not in front of the whole school, at least; maybe he’ll be merciful enough to yank Jisung out of there and end his existence in the supply closet.

Jisung pulls the Ravenclaw’s sweatshirt over his head—which is apparently made of the nicest and the most comfortable material in the world—and stands in front of the mirror, sizing himself up.

“It looks good on you,” Felix says, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. The corner of Jisung’s mouth curls up as he goes back to staring at himself in the mirror, running a hand through his hair. “The boys have already left, they’ll be waiting at your table.”

Jisung heaves a sigh.

What is there to lose? 

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So Jisung puts on the most confident smile he can muster and leaves the Hufflepuff common room with Felix by his side. As they walk up the stairs and get closer to the Great Hall, he can hear the buzz of conversations coming from the dining hall, loud and cheerful.

It’s only a tiny bit nerve-wracking.

They pause by the door.

Jisung straightens the sweatshirt and fixes the hood, brushes off the invisible dust off his pants, and lets Felix squeeze his hand. 

And then, Jisung rolls his eyes—there’s no reason to prolong this, especially that he actually wants to eat a good breakfast, not just quickly munch on something as he runs to make it to his classes on time.

He lets go of Felix’s hand, but keeps him right by his side as march into the Great Hall, at this point not even bothering to scold him for chuckling already. He purposefully holds his head high while walking slowly, just to draw people’s attention. And once one student recognizes him and then recognizes the name on the back of his hoodie, the revelation spreads.

Jisung isn’t surprised.

The students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry love gossip—he knows, because he loves it too.

He hears Hyunjin’s familiar laugh breaking through the whispers and casual chatter of those who don’t care. He hears the whistles and lets his mouth curl up in a cheeky smile. And then he finally hears the “Minho, look,” coming from the direction of the Ravenclaw table.

Jisung finds Minho with his gaze almost too easily. As their eyes lock, a smirk replaces the elder’s initial confusion as he raises his eyebrows in question and it’s almost comical how even from the distance, it’s obvious and visible how his ears are reddening.

Cute, Jisung thinks to himself dumbly.

He and Felix head straight that way, even though they can easily get to the Slytherin table without passing by the Ravenclaws; they wouldn’t miss that chance, though, and Jisung’s dare from the night before isn’t over just yet. 

As he walks past Minho, his grin loses the mischief, mouth curving into something a tad bit softer instead, nonetheless still playful. “What’s up, Lee?” he throws nonchalantly, watching out of the corner of his eye as Minho’s mouth splits into an amused grin. 

Minho’s stare follows him all the way to the Slytherin table when he sits down next to his friends and even then, he doesn’t take his eyes off Jisung.

He does so only when his friend, Renjun, nudges his side with a confused expression. (Jisung definitely isn’t staring.)

“Dude, what the hell?” he asks, not caring that literally everyone in the Great Hall can hear him.

Minho just shrugs, sipping on his coffee, eyes only once or twice finding a way to stare at Jisung’s back and the hoodie the Slytherin is wearing.

His hoodie.

✦

Jisung doesn’t take the hoodie off even when professor Choi says it’s confusing when he doesn’t have his house robes on and threatens to take points away from his house. 

Having thought this through, Jisung reaches into his bag with a satisfied grin and puts a neatly knotted Slytherin tie over the hoodie. 

Renjun, who shares most of Jisung’s classes, is watching him without even bothering to hide the amusement and confusion at what the hell Jisung is doing. Still, just like Minho so far, he knows better than to approach him. 

During lunch, Jisung is careful to eat without dirtying the hoodie. Minho isn’t even there, so he doesn’t really put on a show, only chatting with his friends about their first day of school. As he chews on his pasta, though, Bang Chan—the Slytherin Quidditch team captain—nudges his side and asks, “You didn’t turn your back on your fellow Slytherins, did you, Han?”

Jisung grins, offering him an overdramatic wink in response. “Don’t you worry! I’ll keep being your number one supporter.”

Chan just chuckles, immediately shifting his attention back to his group of friends. Jisung doesn’t really know them since they aren’t Slytherins, but they seem pretty nice when Jisung locks eyes with some of them—awkwardly; they’re clearly interested in the hoodie he’s wearing.

Is it really that big of a deal?

Jisung knows Minho is much more known at school than he is, but he didn’t think Jeongin would set him up for what feels like a misalliance. The overall interest and amusement is making him feel confused.

“Minho’s got potions after this period,” Hyunjin says out of nowhere, snapping him out of his thoughts. Jisung raises his eyebrows, though, not really following; Hyunjin sighs, exasperated. “You could, you know, accidentally run into him.” 

He hasn’t really thought about flirting with Minho in a way other than just glancing at him and showing up in his proximity so that all his attention is focused on Jisung, mostly because he doesn’t think he’s capable of flirting and definitely not with someone he actually doesn’t know, but that can’t be a bad idea, can it?

Although his initial dare doesn’t actually involve all of these complications, it won’t hurt to have some fun. 

Jisung wants to get the most out of this year, and if that somehow now includes flirting with pretty boys, he’s not going to complain.

✦

Minho is confused.

He can’t recall ever speaking to Jisung before and—honestly—hasn’t even paid much or any attention to him through his years at school.

But seeing him so confident, striding into the Great Hall and towards him like it’s nothing, Minho thinks there’s something interesting about him. He wonders why he’s not even a little angry with Jisung—if someone sneaks into his dormitory at night, steals and then wears his clothes, it should be a big problem.

But when Han Jisung looks awfully good in that sweatshirt, what can Minho even do? 

When he leaves the Great Hall after breakfast, his friends start fooling around, asking if he has turned the Slytherin over to their side, if he’s finally found something that will take his attention away from Quidditch at least for a moment, if it’s summer love or if something has sparked between them on the first day of school. 

As amused as he is, Minho has no idea what to say—he just laughs it off every time and prays to Merlin that no one bothers him for the rest of the day.

Minho leaves the Potions classroom with Changbin, talking about how the professor must be insane for reading the entire manual of health and safety regulations as though they’ve managed to forget it over the summer.  

Changbin’s head snaps to the right and he raises his eyebrows, suddenly amused and not bored to death like he was a second ago. Before Minho gets to ask what this is about, he elbows him in the side—forcefully—and earns himself a glare before Minho actually looks the way Changbin is very discreetly pointing to.

Han Jisung is sitting on the windowsill, legs dangling off the edge as he stares out the window, seemingly deep in thought.

When he hears the noise of the students leaving the classroom, he turns that way, eyes looking through the small crowd. It doesn’t even take him a second to find Minho, and he doesn’t even look taken aback seeing him already staring.

And then, that charmingly sweet smile makes its way to his face, leaving Minho furrowing his brows in suspicion. Changbin chuckles at his expression and bids his goodbye, definitely noticing how the entirety of Minho’s attention is now on the Slytherin.

Not even bothering to return Changbin’s “bye,” Minho takes a few steps forward and comes closer to Jisung, leaning his shoulder against the wall way too casually for the situation they’ve found themselves in.

They don’t speak, wordlessly agreeing to wait for the students to leave so they can talk in peace, without the whole commotion.

“Were you waiting for me?” Minho can’t help but ask, then. “And you’re still wearing it—” he points to the black hoodie with an eagle on the front. “Flattering.”

Jisung rocks his legs, still sitting on the windowsill like he’s having lots of fun. He keeps his mouth shut, head tilted to the side as he stares at Minho intently.

“What was that in the Great Hall?” Minho asks, amused, hoping that at least this question will finally get an answer.

Jisung hums, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “A dare,” he says simply. “So, don’t worry, I’m not madly in love with you.” 

Minho shifts, thinking that Jisung being madly in love with him wouldn’t actually be  something to worry about. “What a pity,” he says anyway. “I thought that next time you sneak into my dorm at night, I’d find you cuddling me in the morning.”

Jisung shakes his head, trying to conceal the grin on his lips that he can’t hold back. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He jumps off the windowsill. “I’m not crazy,” he says but Minho feels like he needs to think otherwise; there’s this weird glint in Jisung’s eyes, something strange and alluring pulling Minho closer and closer, making him feel dizzy just by looking into the dark irises. “My friends are, though.”

Minho snorts as he takes a step to the side to stand in front of Jisung, who has his hands shoved into the front pocket of Minho’s hoodie and his green tie is hanging loosely from his neck.

“I can’t believe they let you wear it instead of a uniform,” Minho scoffs. 

Jisung shrugs with a menacing grin. “What can I say? I’m just that charming.” 

Minho doesn’t say anything, just fixes the strap of his tote bag on his shoulder and takes a step forward, walking past Jisung. He can hear the Slytherin following in his step; the exorbitantly high soles of his shoes make a characteristic, loud sound that echoes off the walls of the castle—Minho is sure he’ll remember it for a long time.

“You’re gonna have to give it back,” he says when Jisung catches up with him and aligns their step so they’re walking side by side. 

As Jisung plasters a smug smile on his lips, Minho realizes just how badly he wants to wipe it off. Oh, so badly.

“Dunno,” Jisung shrugs. “I actually like it. It’s pretty comfy.”

Minho takes a turn to the left, beginning to climb up the stairs—Jisung is still trailing next to him.

“No shit,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s supposed to be comfy. And I need it back.”

Jisung elbows him in the ribs, way too comfortable. Minho only musters a weak glare.

“Okay, Mr. Know-It-All,” he huffs. Then—“Mr. Lee Know.”

Minho decides it will be better for them both if he turns a deaf ear to his corny comment. 

As they walk past the Great Hall and up the stairs onto another floor, Minho realizes they are getting close to the Transfiguration classroom; he doesn’t know if they’re walking so fast or it’s the time that passes by at insane speed when he’s with Jisung.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jisung lift his left hand as he checks the time on his watch.

“Merlin—” he sighs, looking to the side to smile so cutely at Minho that he’s having a hard time believing it’s genuine. “If you want your hoodie back, you’re gonna have to catch me!” 

Before Minho can even register his words, Jisung breaks into a wild run down the hallway, laughing out loud without a single care in the world. He just shakes his head with a smile and decides to ignore him, for now.

✦

Jisung finds himself seated on the grass between Felix and Jeongin even before the Care of Magical Creatures teacher decides to show up.

Jeongin, quite bored and definitely dreaming of going back to bed and sleeping through the rest of the day, is plaiting something from the flowers he’s picking from the ground over and over again.

Felix is leaning against his shoulder, eyes closed, soaking up the sun with delight sewn into his features.

Jisung stares straight ahead, but out of the corner of his eye he watches the rest of the impatient students, most of them a bit annoyed at the teacher running late. Some, like Aeri, are finishing their lunch, and others are napping soundly in the shaded parts of the grounds.

When Professor Jo finally decides to show up, Jisung is in the process of throwing flowers at his sister, who just shakes her head and gives him a ‘we'll talk later’ look.

Jisung wonders if it’s some kind of a twin magic, letting them understand each other so well or if it’s just them.  

Because of that, after an extremely boring lesson, Jisung tells his friends that they can head back to the castle without him, and he instead waits for Eunji to join him. 

His sister greets him by hitting him on the head with her textbook, eliciting a strangled yelp out of his throat. Then, as if nothing has happened, she links their arms together—it’s only because she wants Jisung to drag her back to the castle so she doesn’t have to use too much energy.

Jisung has trouble understanding her at times.

“When were you going to tell me you were snogging Lee Minho in the dark corners of the castle?” 

First of all, that hurts.

Second of all, Jisung isn’t snogging anyone. (Unfortunately.)

He grins, though, and then lets out an exaggerated sigh. “If I were to snog Lee Minho, you’d be the first person to know,” he says. “For that one time you told me you kissed Ryujin during the third year.”

Eunji smacks him in the shoulder, glaring when Jisung giggles delightfully. “Hello?” she says reproachfully. “I told you that in secret, keep your voice down!”

Jisung hushes her and they walk back to the castle in relative silence, but—of course—she has to break it, ruining the peaceful atmosphere that’s just fallen over them.

“I know you guys probably came up with something dumb and you had to mess with Minho—” Eunji starts, “—but don’t get into trouble, okay? You promised dad you’ll be good.”

Jisung hasps, offended. “I am always a good boy.”

Eunji quirks an eyebrow, her eyes shining like honey as they reflect the light of September afternoon sun. “Keep lying to yourself,” she says.

Jisung isn’t in the mood to argue, but he knows how things are.  

“I heard Ravenclaw is up first for the opening Quidditch match in October, but Slytherin won’t be playing against them anytime soon since we won the cup last year,” Eunji says when they reach the castle, letting go of his arm and beginning to walk away backwards, leaving him frowning. “I guess you can cheer on your new boyfriend without worries, then.” 

Eunji shrugs and smirks, then turns on her heel, lilac hair flipping in the air.

Good Merlin.

She’s annoying, Jisung knows that well, but Jisung also knows that the same blood runs in their veins, the same heart thrums in their chests—somehow this thought is reassuring. Having someone in his life to support him in everything (or most of the things), even if it’s obviously dumb, like pulling off a dare like Jisung, is assuring. 

He sighs, fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder, and starts walking up the stairs. When he gets to his Defence class, Felix waves him over to the seats they’ve saved with a small smile, a sky blue flower crown on his head.

Jisung takes the empty seat next to Hyunjin and turns around to face the rest of his friends, who are sitting behind them. “You look pretty in blue,” he tells Felix.

The Hufflepuff’s eyes go huge as his face flushes bright red—he’s really embarrassed. “Everyone keeps saying that,” he says in a whiny tone. “They’re saying I should wear these every day.”

Jisung agrees with everyone.

Smiling, he rests his chin on his hand and glances at Jeongin, who’s sitting next to them with his friend Beomgyu. The Ravenclaw sends finger guns their way, making them laugh, and goes back to the conversation he’s having with the Gryffindor.

Jisung likes it.

He likes the way after the war, every house has just merged with one another, how their respective houses have also been trying to keep them closer together and build a stronger bond. Seeing everyone get along after the dark times makes Jisung happy.  

Even when he’s turned back to face the front of the class, he steals glances at his friends once or twice, watching the light dazzling through the blue stained glass, casting them in a sort of an angelic glow.

He wants to keep them like this forever.

✦

After the sun has long dipped beyond the horizon and the other students have already left the library, Lee Minho is still sitting in his usual spot, books shielding him from prying eyes. His eyes close arbitrarily with each next line of his copy of Magical Drafts and Potions with his head propped up in his hand—but he isn’t giving up. 

If someone on his team saw him here at this hour, they would probably rip the book out of his hands and smack him on the head. But it’s not like Minho wouldn’t absolutely love to curl up beneath his soft duvet, in the warm confines of his dormitory, maybe with a snack and a book more interesting than this in hand.

But there’s this thing that prevents him from lazing in the evenings—no medical universities will accept him based on his Quidditch achievements alone. To become a Healer, he needs more than just a dream. Especially when so many of the students he knows have the same plans as him. 

Minho rubs his face with his hand, leaning back against the uncomfortable library chair. He lets his eyes fall shut only for a moment, but the rustling he hears behind himself makes him snap them open and turn around. Unsurprisingly, he comes face to face with Renjun; his friend is leaning with his shoulder against the bookshelf, giving him a tired look. 

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

Minho doesn’t even have the strength to argue. Not when it comes to Renjun, who is probably the person who deals with his shit the most, even though he doesn’t have to. Minho feels a little bad—a lot bad—so he complies. 

He lets Renjun cast a spell on the books to return them to their respective shelves and gets up from his chair. Without rush, they walk along the main aisle of the library side by side.

“They haven’t given us the matches schedule yet but everyone’s saying we’re playing first,” he breaks the silence with his tired whisper as they step into the dark hallways. “So I have to study now. The team is starting practice in two weeks, so I can’t slack off.”

Renjun sighs, but he ends up nodding in understanding, anyway; he knows well that there’s nothing to change Minho’s mind.

“But you can’t overwork yourself, either,” he says. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to balance everything, but you’re not alone. Especially not when it comes to Quidditch. You know the team is great, you just have to polish things up to win. It won’t do you good if you exhaust yourself so soon.”

Minho doesn’t say anything. His legs get wobbly as they climb the stairs, but Renjun’s hand in the small of his back, pushing him up, makes it bearable and helps him get to the Tower.

As they slip into the common room, Renjun starts, “You’re gonna hate me for this, but I have to ask—because you’re a stubborn dumbass and you won’t tell me anything.” 

The room is empty and, even though Minho is tired, he doesn’t feel like sleeping, so he plops down on the couch with a sigh, sending Renjun an apologetic smile at keeping him up for a moment longer.

Still, Minho is sure he could never hate him, but Renjun has this habit of exaggerating that Minho has not only gotten used to over the years, but has also picked it up. He gestures for his friend to continue, throwing his head back to rest it against the sofa.

“What’s going on with you and Han Jisung?”

Minho should’ve seen it coming.

“You know him?” he asks instead, dodging the question, because the answer should be obvious enough—there’s nothing going on.

Renjun nods. His eyes glisten, reflecting the fire burning beside them in the fireplace, auburn embers dancing in his dark gaze.

“I’ve got most of my classes with him. He’s smart, a little annoying at times,” he tells him, more in a joking manner than anything else. “Not really surprising you get along, then.” 

Minho chuckles. If his limbs weren’t aching like hell, he would stand up and smack Renjun on his head. Since his whole body hurts, Minho only smiles, shrugging. 

“I’ve talked to him once in my life.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows, opening his mouth already, probably about to spit out something overwhelmingly annoying.

“No, really—don’t even try to make stupid jokes about how we must be doing other things than talking, you dipshit,” Minho continues, rolling his eyes at the telling smirk on Renjun’s face. “He just told me his friends are, quote, crazy, and made him snuck into my dorm and steal my hoodie. End of the story.”

Renjun presses a hand to his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud and disturbing the curfew. “Did he at least give it back to you?”

Minho shrinks in his seat. “He didn’t. I don’t really feel like fighting him over it. But…” 

Renjun stretches out his leg just so he can kick him in the shin from his spot on the couch for dragging out what he wants to say.

“But—But he’s fun. I wanna play along,” Minho shrugs. “Not now, though—Now I feel like shit and wanna go to bed.”

“You’re weird as hell,” Renjun mutters, standing up and pulling the hood of his jumper over his pink hair. “I hope he’s gonna drag you away from overworking yourself, though. It can be something good.”

Minho might not know a lot of things, but he had been just assured that Han Jisung is something good. He feels like he is.

A long moment after Renjun leaves to go to his own dormitory, Minho is still sitting on the couch, staring into the fire, thinking about how much the flames remind him of those that linger in Jisung’s eyes, warm and cozy.

✦

The next time Minho sees Jisung, his smile is blinding and there’s nothing more to it—it’s just a sweet, heart-shaped smile that catches his attention, the sight weirdly filling his chest with warmth.

He’s been paying a bit more attention to the Slytherin, though not on purpose. His eyes are drawn to Jisung now, somehow finding him in the sea of students or catching him as their groups exchange classrooms for the day.

Or, like now, when Jisung walks into the Great Hall with his friend, the one that often wears flower crowns on his head. Minho has seen this guy quite a few times in the Ravenclaw common room, but he’s yet to catch his name. 

He and Jisung walk over to the Ravenclaw table and sit down next to Jeongin—whom Minho has once helped with Potions assignment—not far from where Minho is sitting. Close enough that Minho can hear them despite his concentration on listening to his Quidditch team.

“I still think we should sneak out to Hogsmeade,” he hears Jeongin say, but he doesn’t know the entire context.

“They would call the police on us if someone noticed we’re students and not on the Hogwarts grounds,” Hyunjin points out. “Let’s just eat a good cake and drink some wine.” 

“But not too much—” Jeongin grins. “Some people are still dizzy after the last time.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Minho sees him nudge Jisung in the side. They all burst out laughing while the Slytherin ducks his head down. 

“Though maybe it’s not wine,” Hyunjin whispers conspiratorially as he not-so-subtly nods towards Minho.

Minho feels his neck getting hot in embarrassment as he tries to pretend he hasn’t just been eavesdropping. He shakes his head, trying to get his thoughts to return to the Quidditch match his team has been strategizing, pushing aside the insistent idea of Hyunjin implying Minho makes Jisung dizzy, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. 

He shoots one last glance towards Jisung and turns back to Wonwoo, who is eagerly telling the rest of the team that recruits from many international teams will be looking for new talent in schools all around the world.

“I hope Director Bae invited them here,” says Jiwoo, propping her head up on her hand. 

“That’d probably be the only chance for any of us to get into a professional team.”

And, as harsh as it might be, Minho knows that it’s true—he smiles reassuringly at his team and says, “We’re the best team Hogwarts has ever seen and we have to be even better so they have no choice but to scout us all, so you better prepare to kick everyone’s asses this year,” even though the words make his throat clench as he knows it’s a dream they share, but one he can’t be a part of. 

✦

When Seungmin says he joined the Hogwarts Chronicle team for extra credit, Jisung is thrilled for him; he’s always liked journalism and photography and he’s damn good at it. 

He’s always said that writing is just a hobby, an extra activity to keep him busy (because Seungmin loves to fill spare minutes of his day with being productive for fun— Jisung can’t understand it), but everyone around knows that he’s actually serious about it.

Jisung thinks he just doesn’t want to jinx it.

He aims higher than the Daily Prophet, though, practically despising and always sharing his disaprobata about what the newspaper has changed into. He pays a lot of money to get The Wizard’s Voice straight from New York every week.

As soon as he graduates, Jisung is sure that Seungmin will be offered an internship at the newspaper and would be number one among journalists. Unless he wants to pursue thousands of training courses first, that is, which is even more likely.

Seungmin is the type of Virgo that needs everything to be accurate and perfect. Jisung has a part of that in himself, too, but it’s definitely not as nurtured as Seungmin’s zeal, so it germinates more slowly. 

But Jisung waters this silly little plant meticulously in hopes that one day he will finally see it bloom into something that will show him who he really is—what he’s destined for.

Jisung has to press his lips together into a thin line to hold back a silly chuckle, amused by his own metaphors.

He’s sitting in the common room in one of the more comfortable armchairs, legs swung over the armrest, bored gaze fixed on the glass ceiling. He doesn’t know what has made him agree to accompany Seungmin to his new work, but with an afternoon to spare, Jisung has just decided to be a good friend.

He sighs dramatically, throwing his head back, and the groan he lets out is worthy of the best actor on the Broadway stage. Maybe that is his destiny.

When Seungmin finally emerges from the dormitories and appears beside him, urging Jisung to hurry up with a gesture, with that stunning friendly smile on his face, Jisung almost stops feeling tormented at all. Almost, because the vision of an afternoon spent in the stands of a Quidditch stadium assisting Seungmin while he’s taking pictures is still a torture.

Jisung doesn’t understand why anyone would want to put pictures of the training in the chronicle, but he isn’t going to interfere—he isn’t going to complain, because he’s never going to pick that book up himself in his entire life.

It’s also not that Jisung doesn’t like Quidditch—it’s nice to cheer for Slytherin with green smeared over his cheeks, as a part of the crowd of people Jisung likes and feels a little bit connected to, even if he doesn’t appreciate the loud screams and too many people surrounding him, invading his personal space.

The games at Hogwarts are full of emotions, lasting for hours and yet most of the people in the stands don’t lose energy and vigor even when the game ends.

But the practice?

Practice is tossing a ball back and forth with no apparent meaning. It’s sitting in the cold as the players in the air try over and over again to get the perfect hit, the perfect throw and the perfect manoeuvre.

It’s boring and confusing and there are plenty of things Jisung would rather be doing on a September afternoon right before his birthday. But Seungmin is still smiling as he grabs his arm, camera safe in a bag slung over his shoulder.

And how could Jisung not agree to go with him? Maybe if Jeongin didn’t ditch them and Felix didn’t need urgent help in Potions from Hyunjin, they wouldn’t be going just by themselves.

“It’s okay, Sung-ah. I promise it won’t take long,” Seungmin assures as they leave the school, because it’s obvious in his expression; Jisung only groans unintelligibly in response. 

When they reach the stadium, close enough to see the blue robes fluttering in the wind, Jisung is hit by an overwhelming urge run away back to the dormitory, to his nice bed and a warm mug of coffee, even to his unfinished Herbology essay—anything but the damn Quidditch and the captain of the Ravenclaw team, who is staring at them with interest.

Jisung just doesn’t understand how the world works—he’s hardly ever crossed paths with Minho before, and now he sees him every time he turns the corner. 

Seungmin leads them his way to politely announce that he’ll be taking pictures for the school chronicle. Jisung sees that gleam in Lee Minho’s eyes, sees his face twist into a playful smirk, and he wants nothing more than to grab the broom the elder is holding and hit him hard on the head.

But Jisung is a composed person, so, with a kind of boldness typical of Slytherins, he tilts his head to the side and says, “Now that I’m here, you better do your best, Lee.”

Minho, definitely not surprised, chuckles at him and shakes his head. “I always do my best,” he says, winking—except he blinks with both eyes. 

There must be something deeply wrong with Jisung, because he finds it endearing. He needs help.  

Minho turns on his heel, away from them, and follows his team into the air, his sapphire robes gracefully dancing in the wind. Jisung accompanies him with his stare, breaking his gaze away only when Seungmin elbows him in the side.

“Do you two ever stop flirting?” 

It’s something Jisung would like to know.

He’s surprised that Seungmin doesn’t kick him off the stands as he trails behind him step by step and irritates him with his comments—Jisung wonders when he’ll run out of patience, snap, and murder him right on the spot.

Instead of killing him, though, Seungmin promises to buy him ice cream when they go to Hogsmeade in thanks for spending almost an hour with him in the cold. He’s too nice.

By the time they finish taking pictures and the bubble gum in Jisung’s mouth loses its flavor, the Ravenclaw team is lying on the grass, resting during their short break.

Jisung has had a lot of time to admire them and—honestly—they’re simply insane. If their practice looks like this, he doesn’t want to know what kind of tricks they’re hiding up their sleeves for actual games.

He can only hope that Chan comes up with an equally impressive tactic, that his competitive nature won’t let up, even though he’s friends with Minho. Jisung actually realized they were friends while walking to his Herbology class a few days ago. The two of them were sitting on a bench in the hallway, laughing at something, conspiratorially whispering to each other as if sharing the world’s greatest secrets.

Jisung had to ignore the weird, tingling sensation in his stomach; he quickened his pace on the way to the greenhouse, his mind getting messy when trying to come up with a reason why he was feeling so strange; he convinced himself it must’ve been the pumpkin soup he had for lunch.

Now, though, as he and Seungmin are about to leave the field, his friend waves at Minho to signal that they’re all done. But Minho doesn’t wave back or shout anything; he hauls himself off the grass and, before Jisung can register what’s going on, he’s already there next to him.

“Can I see the pictures later?”

And yet, instead of looking at the person who actually has something to do with the photos, his gaze is fixed on Jisung. His eyes are bloodshot, but they still glisten with a dangerous flame.

A strange heat burns in Jisung’s lower abdomen.

“Sure, just let me know when you’re free,” Seungmin responds, making Minho finally focus on him.

The elder lifts the corners of his mouth in a barely noticeable smile, raises his hand in a gesture of goodbye, and turns around, slowly returning to his team.

Jisung stares at his back pointlessly for a moment too long.

As he walks back to the castle with Seungmin, Jisung sees the glances his friend sends his way. He decides it’s better to ignore him, though, pretending to be very absorbed with the magnificent colors of the sky, the palette of oranges and pinks twirling among the clouds as the sun begins to hide beyond the horizon.

The vibrant colors remind him of the flame in Minho’s eyes, though, and with that simple realization, how even the sky makes him think of Minho, he comes to a dangerous conclusion—that goddamn fire is going to burn him to ashes.

✦

On Jisung’s birthday, he’s awakened with a firm embrace and two bodies on his bed. When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Felix’s freckles, still clearly visible after his summer in sunny Australia—not the worst thing to wake up to.

The Hufflepuff grins at him with his heavenly smile and sing-songs, “Happy birthday, Jisungie”.

Hyunjin wraps his arms around his waist from behind and if it were a normal day Jisung would think he’s under Imperius curse, but it’s his birthday, and if there is any wish the boys always fulfill, it’s showing Jisung so much affection that he’s begging for a moment alone by the end of the day.

Later that morning, Jisung enters the Great Hall with his friends and a colorful birthday hat with the words ‘Birthday Boy’ on his head. It’s quite embarrassing, but he’s had a similar experience of overwhelming embarrassment just a few weeks ago, so he’s well-prepared. 

Jeongin waves them over from the Slytherin table. As soon as they’re in the vicinity to hear him over the morning chatter, he puts on a fake-smile and says, “Look, Jisung! I know how much you love me, so I saved you a seat right beside me.” 

It takes Jisung all of himself to not grab his favorite boy in the world and smother him with kisses, but he knows Jeongin would probably grab his bag and leave and never speak to him again, so he sits down on the honorable spot and drinks his favorite orange juice instead.

His housemates and some other students smile at him and wish him happy birthday; it’s a simple thing, but it makes Jisung feel really, really happy—there are people that care.

Just as he’s about to bite into a toast, owls fly into the Great Hall, hooting and making noise with their wings. Jisung quickly recognizes two of them as their family’s owls. 

The black one gracefully flies towards him, so he quickly makes room on the table, pushing aside plates full of food so the animal doesn’t accidentally fly into it. The owl, experienced and smart, gently lowers the package onto the designed space and sits on his shoulder to rest. 

Felix immediately jumps to feed her from his hand, fingers carefully ghosting over the feathers; the owl hoots contently when Felix scratches her beak, leaning into the touch.

“Is it from your dad?” Seungmin asks, always curious about Jisung’s family’s Muggle packages.

He nods. “Eve flew to Eunji. Dad has a pretty good timing.”

Jisung reaches out to unwrap the gift with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The wrapping paper is colorful, full of rainbows and balloons, and when Jisung opens the box, he sees a note on top. 

‘Happy birthday, Sungie. You’re almost a grown up, but you will always be my little boy. Spend this day and every single one as best as possible. Love, Dad.’

Jisung puts the note aside with glistening eyes. He can’t help but smile—a wide grin spreads across his face, warmth pulsating under his skin as he thinks about just how lucky he is.

There’s a smaller box inside; Jisung’s jaw drops as he opens it to reveal a silver necklace with a snake-shaped pendant arranged in the letter ‘J’. It sparkles, almost as if emitting its own light, eye-catching and stunning.

Jeongin looks over his shoulder to take a peek and lets out a gasp. Jisung understands his reaction. 

“Woah, it’s really pretty,” Felix whispers. “Your dad is seriously thoughtful.”

Jisung’s dad is more than that.

He makes sure Jisung and Eunji are safe, showers them with an amount of love so overwhelming that Jisung should get sick of it, but he doesn’t. Because he loves his dad more than anyone else in this world. With everything Jisung does, he wants to pay him back for everything he has sacrificed for them.

His dad is the person Jisung admired the most.

He’s in the middle of putting the necklace on with Jeongin’s help when another, this time an unfamiliar owl lands on their table, dropping another package in front of Jisung. He eyes it skeptically and ignores his friends’ curious eyes, reaching to open the gift. Felix throws some snacks for the owl and pets its head, like he always does. 

When Jisung opens the package, his mouth goes agape with shock again.

He’s startled as the owl rises up, flying—surprisingly—in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. All his friends murmur as they watch it land safely on Lee Minho’s shoulder, clear familiarity in the gesture of him stroking its feathers.

Jisung’s stomach does an embarrassing flip as Minho looks away from the owl and finds his gaze, almost too easily.

“He’s unbelievable,” says Hyunjin from the other side of the table, drawing the attention of everyone but Jisung.

He draws his eyebrows together in confusion, pointing to the package. Minho beams and mouths ‘Happy Birthday’ (or something like this; Jisung isn’t the best lip-reader) and Jisung feels like a fool, because the warm feeling is back and it’s spreading all over his insides, and he wonders if the flames from Minho’s eyes could burn his skin like they do to his mind.

Jisung has no strength to wonder how Minho even figured out it’s his birthday or why he even thinks that getting Jisung a gift is a good idea, so he turns around and peers into the box, at his favorite childhood book neatly placed inside.

Jisung’s mind goes crazy as he closes the box with the lid, all thoughts Minho-shaped. 

✦

Later that day, Felix grabs a blanket from his dorm; Hyunjin and Jeongin go to the Kitchens to get them something delicious to eat. Instead of spending lunchtime in the crowded Great Hall, they decide to bathe in the high-set sun and sit down in the shade of one of the trees near the lake. 

Jisung has changed into his sister’s gift for him—a white t-shirt with a text written in a bold red font that says ‘I ♥ Hogwarts’. It’s embarrassing, but Jisung doesn’t mind. Especially when he’s given Eunji a cow themed bucket hat (one that she is definitely proudly wearing now, because his twin is more fashionable than he has ever been and she has accepted the weirdness of Jisung’s gifts a long time ago, enjoying every bit of it). 

With his head lying comfortably in Felix’s lap, Jisung is smiling as the sun softly tickles his face. His friends are talking about something quietly, eating their light lunch in the company of soothing sounds coming from the lake, the creatures of the waters bravely approaching the shore.

Jisung tilts his head to the side, letting Felix’s fingers run through his hair. He honestly wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life like this—he would actually love it. But his friends fall silent and it doesn’t escape Jisung’s attention, so he flutters his eyes open, raising his eyebrows in confusion at the sudden silence.

He follows Jeongin’s gaze and sighs upon noticing Minho at the shore of the lake, striding along the coast with sunglasses on the bridge of his nose as the sun caresses his tilted-up face with its warm rays.

Jisung doesn’t even think it through when he stands up, ignoring his friends’ whines, and trots towards Minho with way too much ease. He catches up and aligns their step, not really knowing just what to say—he didn’t plan to talk to Minho, really; definitely not now. 

Minho smirks, but he’s also insistently silent; besides his lips, Jisung can’t properly see his face and tell if Minho is irritated for Jisung is interrupting his peaceful walk.

“Hey,” he says finally, very eloquently.

Minho nods in response, smirk curving even more as he shoves his hands deep in the front pocket of his hoodie. He kicks little stones that stumble on his way, looking up to the sky, breathing in the cool, late-summer air—Jisung is stunned.

It’s not like he’s not awkward with most people, but Minho is clearly not like most people. It’s weird how Jisung can be outgoing around him in one moment, and then feel awkward a second later. 

He doesn’t know what to say, but it’s not even him that ends up breaking the silence, but Minho, when he finally asks, “What’s up?”

He stops in his tracks and Jisung has no choice but to halt, too. Not knowing what he’ll see when he meets Minho’s eyes, he looks around, at his friends on the far end of the lake, so far away Jisung can barely make their faces out.

“I believe you’ve got a reason to be here other than a clear will to accompany me in my walk.” Minho lifts a corner of his mouth, lowering the sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, eyes insistently finding their way to Jisung’s.

Minho might be soft and he might make Jisung’s stomach twist with laughter, but he can for sure also be intimidating. Not in a bad way, but he’s got a way of making people shiver. Like right now, his gaze is piercing, yet curious, like he’s eager to read everything off Jisung’s face—like Jisung is interesting enough for him to want to get to know him in his own way.

But Jisung knows that can’t be the case.

He is just Jisung— besides the rare times his a little more reckless side shows up under the influence, there’s nothing special to him that could possibly interest Lee Minho.

That’s just how it is. There’s no reason to beat around the bush and Jisung doesn’t intend to feed himself silly lies just to feel better.

“How did you know I liked Alice in Wonderland ?” he asks, giving up on trying to come up with something else to say, something to lead to this conversation.

Minho chuckles, pushing his sunglasses back up on his nose. “A birdie told me,” he says.

Jisung blinks. He feels an urge to shove Minho into the cold waters of the lake for being so secretive, but instead, he furrows his brows with an idea and asks: “You talked to Eunji?”

Jisung had no idea Minho knew his sister, but maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised; everyone knows Minho—maybe Minho also knows everyone.

The Ravenclaw begins continuing his walk, expecting Jisung to follow in his steps. Of course he does.

“I liked that book too,” Minho tells him, staring straight ahead, round glasses hiding his eyes from Jisung. “It must be the only Muggle book I know and actually have read. And I thought it might be a good gift.” 

“There was a dedication inside,” Jisung blurts out, his question sounding more like a statement. Minho nods. “ To dearest Minho, may you enjoy the magic in your heart every single day, ” he recites. 

He has run his fingers over this page many times, a strange feeling of calmness filling him up as his fingers have traced the rough old paper.

“It’s from my grandpa,” Minho says after a while, and when Jisung looks up at his face, it’s bright with a gentle smile. Jisung feels nostalgia creeping up in his bones, the source of the feeling unknown, at least to him. “But now it's yours. If I could, I’d write a dedication for you.”

Jisung quirks an eyebrow. “And what would you write?” 

Minho gestures comically with his hands and, in a dramatic voice, says, “ To the boy who likes to sneak into my dormitory at night and steal my clothes, so that one day you would have the courage to tell me that you’re madly in love with me. ” 

Jisung bursts out laughing, an unfamiliar warmth spreading in his belly where it aches from laughter. He nudges Minho, who’s clearly proud of his own performance, and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down, but a wide, heart-shaped smile doesn’t want to leave his face anyway.

✦

While celebrating Seungmin's birthday during the trip to Hogsmeade, Jisung doesn’t let go of his hand, not even for a second. Seriously, his friends should have—and could have—already kicked his ass many times for how clingy he is, but they haven’t done that yet, so Jisung decides to push his limits a bit more.

It’s all because he feels comfortable having them close. 

Especially in places like this, among the crowds, as they’re walking through the streets full of students and townspeople. It’s a guarantee that he won’t get lost, he would argue if they asked. 

He feels the cold breeze of September wind on his face, despite the fact that the sun is still shining. The weather is always weird in the season between summer and autumn, but—hidden in hoodies and in the walls of the castle—Jisung kind of likes it.

He knows that another month of school will pass by before he knows it and he will have to focus even more on his studies and homework, but as he heads towards the Three Broomsticks, all he wants is a huge glass of butterbeer to warm up his cold hands, Hogwarts long forgotten.

Drinking butterbeer on a chilly afternoon feels almost the same way as being wrapped up in a blanket and having fingers running through your hair at the same time. Jisung loves it.

They get a corner table, and Seungmin, as the birthday boy, goes with Hyunjin to order their drinks. Jisung leans against the back of his chair and looks around the place, gaze sweeping over the students of different houses intertwining with ordinary residents spending time in the pub. 

The Three Broomsticks are no longer the most beloved place in Hogsmeade, but only few of the Hogwarts students want to leave the center of the town, so most of them just wind up here.

Jeongin and Felix are deep in conversation about some animals that Jisung is hearing about for the first time in his life. As he pays closer attention and listens to their conversation, he’s not even sure if they are talking about animals. They’re a strange combination together, but they make it work perfectly; with their mutual love for magical creatures and equally insane sense of humor.

Jeongin never forgets to remind Felix how precious he is, always makes him colorful flower crowns that make him feel more confident—he always wears them proudly and always seems that tiny bit more relaxed when Jeongin is around.

Jisung wonders if it’s all because Jeongin’s open-mindedness and creativity make him feel safe like they do with Jisung.

It’s strange, really, how in various ways his friends have all created a safe space for Jisung to which he always gladly comes back to.

Jisung, as a Slytherin, respects and loves his family first. And thanks to these four boys his family has expanded and he has more people to care about.

It surely is a great responsibility to take care of teenage boys, but having them around and having someone to care for keeps him going—there’s nothing Jisung likes better in this world than showing affection.

But as Hyunjin and Seungmin sit down at the table, exasperated sigh leaving the birthday boy’s lips while he slides the most appealing cheesecake slice over the table, towards Jisung, he realizes that maybe there is one thing he loves more. 

“Sorry it took so long,” says Seungmin, snapping Jisung out of his thoughts that have quickly taken the shape of the sweet dessert before him.

“Changbin stopped us at his table because he insisted that he had to wish his favorite Slytherin the happiest of happy birthdays,” Hyunjin chuckles, elbowing Seungmin in the side.

“You gave him two tutoring sessions two years ago and he’s still crushing on you,” Felix snorts. “Kim Seungmin, your power…” 

He high-fives Hyunjin over the table as Seungmin hides his face in his hands. 

It’s not that there’s something going on between them, but teasing Seungmin is their favorite activity, and they don’t have many chances to jab at him if the only topic that makes him flustered is the Gryffindor’s Seeker, Seo Changbin.

“He’s staring at us,” says Jeongin and they all sneakily shift to glance in that direction. 

Jisung, not sure where to look, struggles for a moment to find the right table in the pub. When he finally succeeds, Changbin is no longer looking in their direction, but Lee Minho’s fiery eyes seem to be fixed only that way.

He evidently hesitates, but after a moment of what seems to be an inner-battle, Minho raises his hand slightly and waves at them with a timid smile on his lips.

Turns out, Jisung doesn’t need butterbeer to feel warm all over.

✦

“I’ll be so lonely,” whines Hyunjin, already deep into his pleading mode, insistent gaze now focused on Jisung, a growing pout on his lips. “Jisung-ah, you like potions,” he says, clasping his hands together into a praying gesture. “It looks good on papers, you know that. Please, everyone has something going on but you.”

Hyunjin moves closer to him on the couch and with that stupid pout on his face—Jisung is already sure that Hyunjin knows he will give in if he keeps this up for another second.

And he’s right.

The next morning, Jisung signs up for the extracurricular because Hyunjin is his best friend and Jisung does actually like potions. He’s not particularly tying his future to them (or to anything, for that matter), but doing some extracurriculars will look good in the future—Hyunjin had a point.

Jisung, in reality, actually has no idea what he’s supposed to do after school. Everyone around him has a dream they chase or their future planned years ahead, but Jisung?

Jisung is just passing classes and doing well in most of them, scoring high grades and making his dad proud. But it isn’t enough—the more time Jisung spends wondering, the less he knows about what he truly wants.

He sighs, walking down the empty hallway. He hasn’t meant to skip Herbology—for real—but his mind feels like a mess and it would be no use to go to class when he knows he won’t be able to focus, anyway.

With a copy of Tales and Fantasies in hand, he jumps onto the windowsill, leaning over to the side, resting his head on the wall. 

The remains of the first autumn downpour remain on the windowpane in the form of streaks and drops, which Jisung watches and traces with his finger until they disappear.

He puts the book on his lap and, staring at the colorful cover instead of diving into the reading, he lets his thoughts suddenly drift away to the boy who has been making everything feel like a bigger mess lately.

The castle isn’t that small at all and they don’t share any classes, so it should come off as no surprise that Jisung doesn’t see Minho very often, except for times their schedules align and he can shamelessly steal glances at the Ravenclaw from across the Great Hall during lunch or dinner. 

It’s a pity, really.

Minho is interesting—too smart, too invested in Quidditch, too witty, too pretty. Jisung likes all the interesting—he likes learning and getting to know how things work. But this time it’s different. Jisung hates himself for wanting to instantly be close to Minho, skipping the getting to know each other part and diving right into the deep waters. 

This evening, he decides he wants to change something. It’s a spontaneous decision, but his life has been nothing less than that lately. He visits Eunji’s dormitory and begs her for some hair dye that he’s sure she’ll have; she knows better than to question him and gives him what she’s got left in her trunk. 

It’s definitely not what he had in mind when he decided to do it—he’s never dreamed of having ginger hair—but Jisung makes it work.

When he looks in the mirror the next morning, he likes what he sees. His hair feels strange when he first touches it but with everyone complimenting him over the day, he gets more and more confident; and nowadays, considering everything, confidence is what he really needs.

“Looking hot, Han!” yells one of the boys standing in the hall as he walks to his Charms class.

Jisung blows them all a kiss over his shoulder, chuckling when Eunji shoves him away from herself, rolling her eyes at his idiocy.

✦

A little hesitant, Jisung makes his way to the Advanced Potions class.

At lunch, he agreed to meet Hyunjin in the dungeons when the Hufflepuff had finished his meal sooner; something is also telling Jisung that Hyunjin has been sitting in the classroom, too excited to stop himself from wandering and waiting. 

A shiver courses through Jisung’s body. The October weather makes itself felt even through the thick walls of the castle, irritating Jisung’s skin even after he changed from his uniform into a thick and comfortable sweater and overalls, ready to work and quite enthusiastic about making potions, despite the slight anxiety as he isn’t entirely sure what the class is going to be taught like.

The door to the classroom is flung open, and when he stops in the doorway, he sees the teacher sitting on his desk. He’s smiling, chatting with the students, and, as he looks in Jisung’s direction, he urges him to come inside with a gesture of hand.

“Jisung, I’m glad you joined us,” he greets warmly.

Jisung sends a hesitant smile his way and, a little embarrassed at the attention, shoves his hands into the pockets of his overalls, his gaze flying all over the classroom to find the right, familiar face.

Hyunjin is sitting on a table in the place they usually occupy during regular classes, and Jisung unconsciously breathes a sigh of relief at the familiarity, sitting down on the chair with one leg folded under himself. 

“I’m glad you didn’t ditch me,” Hyunjin tells him as he chews on his mint gum.

Jisung shrugs; the thought surprisingly hasn’t even crossed his mind, not even on his way here.

“You owe me,” he says instead. He shoves his hand into Hyunjin’s bag placed on the chair to find something sweet to snack on, and takes out a bag of Caramel Cobwebs from Honeydukes.

Before he can even rip it open, though, professor Pearson scolds him, “No food in class, Jisung.”

He shifts his gaze towards the teacher and purses his lips into a thin line when he sees that professor Pearson isn’t alone anymore—Minho is standing beside his desk with a bag slung over his shoulder, eyes fixed on Jisung.

“Of course, professor,” he mutters, throwing the candy back into Hyunjin’s bag, and averting his eyes.

Hyunjin chuckles, satisfied that he doesn’t have to give his candy up to Jisung—Jisung plans on taking it after class, anyway!—and jumps off the table to sit on a chair like a normal human would do.

Professor Pearson is closing the door a few minutes later and it takes Jisung all of himself to not look around in search of Minho; he isn’t that ridiculous and that desperate—he’s had enough of him, at least for the time being.

He likes when things are clear, and whatever it is between him and Minho is all but.

“Well, welcome to advanced Potions class! I’m very honoured that so many of you decided to sign up and I hope it will be a great opportunity for us all to learn at least a bit of what’s more to the art of brewing potions,” says professor Person with a proud smile.

Jisung is quite sure the man hardly ever teaches students who are genuinely fascinated with Potions. It’s quite sad how the teacher considers twenty students ‘so many,’ but it makes Jisung even more determined to do well.

He likes when people are proud of him, so—naturally—he’s hoping professor Pearson will appreciate his interest in Potions, even if it isn’t much.

Hyunjin huffs under his breath, probably very annoyed that there are actually people in this world who don’t think Potions is the most fascinating branch of science. He can be a little dramatic about the things he loves.

“So, every week we will discuss and try to brew some of the potions that are outside the scope of the core curriculum,” professor Pearson continues. “I would like these activities to be based on group and pair work, so that you can all take an active part in them. Every question, suggestion, doubt—whatever you guys have to say, I want to hear.”

His smile is kind, and Jisung thinks he probably has never met a teacher more in love with his profession in his entire life; most of them are awfully grumpy and treat their work like punishment. Jisung, though, wants to feel this enthusiastic way about what he’ll be doing in the future.

That’s partially why he’s so anxious about choosing one specific path.

“That’s why we’ll be changing partners with each potion or we will brew it together, depending on your willingness and skills,” the professor proposes. “I hope that this way of conducting classes will help you find your strengths and weaknesses in potions and give you an overview of what you would like to focus on more because of your interests or the lack of them.”

Jisung does not like it.

He looks around the classroom and finds himself trembling at the mere thought of talking to these strangers, a few of them older than him, clearly. Jisung can be confident and maybe even out-going when the energy is right, but—nonetheless—interacting with people he isn’t at least familiar with makes him feel uneasy.

When his eyes inevitably land on Minho, though, the elder is furrowing his brows at Jisung; when their gazes meet, his lips curl up in a slight smile.

At least the thought of working with Minho doesn’t seem that bad to Jisung.

He shifts his gaze towards the other students and, as his mind emerges from the haze, he notices that he actually recognizes some of them.

There’s Jeno, the Hufflepuff from his year who’s one of the smartest people Jisung knows and Sihyeon, his sister’s Ravenclaw friend, and there’s Yeonjun from Slytherin that has the prettiest cat in the world and Ava, Jacob, and Dorcas, and there’s Martina, and Aeri, and— suddenly—Jisung feels a little bit calmer.

His mind sometimes tricks him like that—pushes him towards the slight fear of the unknown, making it seem a threat bigger than it actually is. But Jisung knows he isn’t alone with that, and even though his friends’ experiences are different, they’ve shared that they feel like this, too.

And, out of nowhere, Jisung feels warmth swiveling in his stomach; he grabs Hyunjin’s hand under the table and shoots him a cheeky grin, watching a confused expression grow on his friend’s face. Jisung just shakes his head and focuses on the teacher again, hoping he doesn’t look like a fool smiling to himself. 

✦

The next time Jisung sees Minho, his hair is blue.

Electric blue—a kind of blue that catches people’s eyes, makes you stand out in the crowd, draws attention from passersby.

Jisung doesn’t recognize him at first, and then the realization hits him, and who he thought was just another stranger, ends up being Minho after Jisung does what must be an embarrassing double-take.

“Lee is such a dedicated Ravenclaw,” sneers Seungmin.

And the thing is, he’s completely right.

The first Quidditch match of the season is fast approaching, so most students disappear from the castle as soon as the opportunity presents itself for them to train. Minho is no exception and his electric blue hair accentuates what house he belongs to and what house he is going to lead to victory even more than his determined expression.

Jisung can’t help but look his way again, and again, but Minho is too busy talking to his team to even notice him. Propping his head up in his hand, Jisung takes a sip of his orange juice and laughs at Felix’s joke, though he hasn’t really been paying attention and he doesn’t know what it was about. 

His mind feels strangely hazed as he stands up from the table, trying to get to Arithmancy class on time. He links his arm with Jeongin’s on their way to the classroom, and feels a smile crawl onto his face as the sunlight slips through the windowpane, caressing his cheeks with warmth.

There are these random moments throughout the day when Jisung feels simply carefree.

✦

Jisung isn’t particularly keen on Quidditch, but the first match of the season has the entire school pumped. On the morning of the match, the Great Hall is unusually cheerful, everyone chatting and placing their bets on either team.

Jeongin joins them at the Hufflepuff table with his cheeks smeared blue.

Seungmin quirks his eyebrows and lazily points a finger at him. “Didn’t know you were such a Quidditch fan.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes and sits down on the bench next to Hyunjin, picking up a toast. “Shut up, everyone in the common room is getting their face painted,” he says. “With Minho as captain for another year, we’re pretty sure we’ll win the Cup this year.”

Jisung and Seungmin share a doubtful look. 

“You guys are good—” Seungmin starts with a smirk dripping with feigned kindness.

“—but Slytherin has won the cup for the past three years since Chan has been made captain,” Jisung finishes. “You’ve got little chance.”

Jeongin furrows his brows, annoyed, as Seungmin and Jisung high-five each other over the table with satisfaction.

“Don’t worry, Innie, we’ll still have our fingers crossed for you!”

Felix elbows Jisung in the ribs so hard that his blue flower crown slips off his head. Jisung smiles and reaches out to fix it gently, more and more convinced that this accessory is becoming an indispensable element of Felix’s style.

“Besides—” Jeongin interrupts his musings, “—it’s Minho’s birthday tomorrow and he always buys candies for the entire house both on his birthday and after winning a game. I’m hoping for a double reward this year.”

They burst into giggles, Hyunjin pulling Jeongin closer by slipping an arm over his waist. “Let’s go, you greedy gremlin,” he says, pulling him up as he stands from the bench, the rest quickly following in their steps. “We gotta get good seats, right?”

They arrive at the stadium just as the players of both teams are disappearing into their changing rooms. Climbing the steps to the top of the stands—definitely without choking out their lungs—without pretty much anyone around, they take the best possible seats.

Jeongin, uncharacteristically cheerful, sits in the middle as Jisung takes the seat near the end of the row. The seats next to him don’t remain empty for long, though, because Bang Chan and his friends take them just before the game starts. 

The older Slytherin peers curiously at Jisung, as though there’s something on his mind, but Jisung only offers him a smile and turns back to his friends.

But then he hears—“I thought you’d be wearing Minho’s sweatshirt.”

Jisung shifts slowly, turning to face the older Slytherin and puts on the most adorable smile he can muster, one that’s clearly dripping with feign sweetness, and then replies, “Sorry, I wear it too often, had to wash it, but don’t worry, I’ll definitely wear it to the game with Slytherin.”

Chan shakes his head, chuckling. He knows Jisung is only teasing—his devotion and love for Slytherin are visible to the naked eye. 

Jisung is the perfect example of a Slytherin.

Maybe he and Chan don’t talk that much, but even then, he sees how Jisung teases younger students to keep them from feeling lonely and brings sweets and candies, then accidentally leaves them in the common room to share. He’s friendly, but won’t let anyone walk over him. 

Jisung looks back at the pitch, watching carefully as the captains of the teams approach each other. They shake each other’s hands; Minho smiles at Nayeon and pats her on the shoulder. Jisung sees her lips moving and they both giggle about something, but—because of the distance—he can’t hear anything. Then, they walk back to their teams and professor Avery puts a whistle to her lips and the moment she whistles, all the players shoot up into the air.

Jisung watches their capes with interest—they look like wings waving and floating in the wind.

The beginnings are always the most interesting—everyone is full of strength and vigor, determined to bring their team victory.

In the distance, Jisung can make out the voice of the commentator, but he can’t remember their name. The students gathered in the stands sigh and cheer and yell as either of the teams take the Quaffle, rushing to victory.

Jisung’s eyes find Minho almost involuntarily, though it’s not difficult given his distinctive blue hair. There is no other reason why Jisung keeps looking at him.

None.

Felix distracts him by tapping his thigh and holding out a packet of caramel candy. “You want some?” he asks, and Jisung shrugs, grabbing a few. As he’s chewing on them, the bleachers adorned in blue yell again, startling him.

He looks up and his mouth goes agape.

Minho is flying all the way around the stadium with a smirk on his face and, as he gets close to the section of the stands where Jisung is sitting, he winks, making it clear that it’s directed at him because of the insistent way he turns over his shoulder to look at Jisung again.

Hyunjin, whos’ sitting next to him, bursts out laughing.

At that moment, Jisung belatedly realizes that Minho is all into their little game.

Jisung loves to tease, to test the waters with his words and actions as if he has nothing to lose. And Minho—apparently—doesn’t mind playing the game he’s chosen, knowing there are no consequences.

It makes Jisung’s stomach twist, the unpredictability of how it ends. He rolls his eyes, but he raises his hand to wave at Minho nonetheless, pretending that it’s just the piercing cold that makes his cheeks flush bright red.

It takes all of his energy not to yell at Minho as every time he throws the quaffle through the rings—even before he gets to fly this way, victorious and confident, Jisung already expects to see him smirk; Minho always makes sure Jisung is paying attention.

What feels like hours later, as one of the Gryffindors gets a bludger to his leg, the professor orders a break.

Jisung thinks it through—he really does!—and then throws the remainder of his candies onto Felix’s lap, stands up, and rushes down the stairs to the changing room where both teams are resting.

He doesn’t have much time, really, and maybe someone is gonna scold him for running through the pitch practically in the middle of the game, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Hope everyone’s got a shirt on!” Jisung exclaims as enters Ravenclaw’s changing room. There are confused pairs of eyes on him—so many of them—but he waves them off, focusing only on the person who’s chugging down a bottle of water. “Lee Minho—you come with me.”

And he doesn’t look back, turning on his heel to walk out, but the giggles tell him that Minho is actually following him. When he gets to the spot behind the room, where nobody should see them, he turns around.

His eyes instantly meet Minho’s, the familiar fire still present, still burning, making a shiver run down his spine. Jisung feels a little bit sick, a weird ache in his stomach.

Minho runs his fingers through his messy hair, disheveled by the wind, and, as though he hasn’t been just winking right at him, he stares at Jisung curiously. “What’s up, Hannie? Did you come all the way here to congratulate me?” he grins. “That’s lovely of you.”

Jisung crosses his arms over his chest.

He likes playing with Minho, he really does, but it’s weird to hear the nicknames, it’s weird to see Minho staring at him like that with his determined eyes and a goofy smile, it’s weird to listen to that lilt to his voice that Jisung knows he doesn’t have with anyone else. 

They weren’t friends—even now he can hardly call them that—but they have quickly jumped into their little game, not bothering to set any rules.

And Jisung might like breaking rules, but he enjoys making his own a little bit more.

“What was that? On the pitch—what did you mean?”

Minho cocks his head to the side. “Wasn’t it you who started this?”

Jisung tries to maintain an unaffected facade, but Minho is just there, with his stupid glimmering eyes and his blue hair and his smirking face and Jisung just feels like running, even though there is no apparent reason why.

“Don’t you worry, though—” Minho continues.

He reaches to his neck and untangles the blue scarf that has shielded him from the piercing wind during the game. Jisung sees the way he shivers from the cold, but Minho insistently pretends he doesn’t feel it, and takes a step closer.

“Take it,” he says and before Jisung even gets to process what’s happening, his pale hands wrap the Ravenclaw-themed scarf around his neck.

Minho’s fingers are cold when they brush over Jisung’s right cheek. He meets the elder’s eyes and looks for something—anything—that could tell him that his intentions are malicious, that Minho is not that good of a person that he seems to be, that he’s doing this just for laughs. 

There’s nothing.

Minho smiles at him, soft and gentle and so warm—strikingly different to the wind blowing around them.

And despite this cold, Jisung’s cheeks feel warm; when Minho steps back, the comforting feeling is still there, it lingers with the fire blazing in his eyes and the scarf wrapped around Jisung’s neck.

“We wouldn’t want you to catch a cold before our date,” Minho mutters, as if unsure, but the smile lingering on his lips is somewhat confident.

The air is knocked out of Jisung’s lungs. He tries to suppress a cough, failing miserably as his throat tightens. 

“A what?” he croaks out, pupils blown wide.

He’s sure he never signed up for that—they never agreed to go anywhere together; Minho must be joking, but… to Jisung, this doesn’t feel like a good joke.

He reaches out to grab Minho’s wrist, but before he has a chance to ask for a clarification, Minho’s name is called from the changing room-tent and he’s shrugging Jisung’s hand off, jogging away, and leaving Jisung behind with the biggest mess in his head.

Jisung scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest again, shaking his head in disbelief. Minho has a lot of nerve, but he has yet to discover that Jisung does, too. 

When Jisung is back in the stands, neither his friends, nor the most annoying Slytherin of the century miss the fact that Jisung is wearing a blue scarf with the Ravenclaw emblem around his neck.

As Chan pokes him in the side, Jisung pretends he doesn’t feel it at all, burying his face further in the fabric. He can be sure of one thing—the scarf serves one very important purpose—it hides Jisung’s flushed cheeks from his nosy friends.

✦

During the next extracurricular Potions class, professor Pearson tells them to make the Dreamless Sleep Potion. He seems just as excited to have them all in the classroom as he was the last time Jisung saw him.

Jisung is assigned to Jeno, who smiles at him when he takes the seat. They chat quietly about the Potions to get rid of the initial awkwardness that settles over them, although they’re in the same year and frequently share classes.

And then, Jisung hears something, and his head shoots up—he can’t really help his own nosiness.

“I think Miss Jang’s absence is only a one-time thing, so next week we’ll be alright, continuing to work in pairs,” professor Pearson is saying to Minho.

Jisung can’t help himself from looking that way. He quickly glances over the class—some of the students are already engrossed in conversations over their potions.

“I’m sure you would do excellent on your own, Mr. Lee, but, as I said last week, I would rather have you work in groups.”

Minho’s mouth opens, probably to protest, but no words come out as he snaps it into a firm line as the teacher turns around and scans the room. His eyes land on Jisung, who unfortunately doesn’t manage to turn away in time, and professor Pearson smiles, gesturing towards his table with a smile.

“You can join Jeno and Jisung. Is that alright with you, boys?”

He doesn’t even wait for their response but Jeno mutters an ‘of course,’ anyway. 

Jisung doesn’t want to look the way Minho is coming from, mind hazy and preoccupied with thoughts of the increasing amount of Minho’s clothes in his dormitory; first the hoodie, then the scarf, and he doesn’t even plan on returning either. 

And now they’re supposed to brew a potion together. At this point, Jisung can’t tell if he’s just jinxing himself with every Minho-shaped thought that passes through his head, subconsciously making fate push them together.

If only Jisung had stopped himself and hadn’t been staring in that direction, Professor Pearson would have probably chosen another group for Minho to join.

But Jisung always has to digs those stupid holes for himself.

All he wants to do is run out of the classroom and rush down the hallway, to the common room, to his dormitory, and scream into his pillow, because Lee Minho makes him so confused.

Since the night he was given that stupid dare, Jisung’s mind has been growing more and more confused each day. And the cause of it all is the older Ravenclaw, who’s just setting his bag on the floor and taking the seat across from Jisung.

It’s his own personal hell, one that he himself has set on fire.

Making a potion with one person is difficult enough—Jisung doesn’t want to imagine what happens after Minho joins them. To his surprise, though, as soon as they divide the work, everything goes quite smoothly.

From the steam rising from the cauldron, Jisung’s forehead gets wet with sweat, face flushing red with the neverending heat. It’s awful, because the dungeons don’t help with air circulation and he’s basically turning into a steamed bun at his point. 

Jeno cuts off the tune he was humming as he carefully reads over the recipe once again. Then, he scoffs and mutters, “Can’t believe we forgot about the Chamomile.” He looks up at them—more in Jisung’s direction, because Minho is busy working on his own part—and smiles. “Sorry, I’ll go get it quickly.”

Jisung shrugs, not really minding; Minho doesn’t even glance up.

When Jeno is out of earshot and the rest of the students are too busy with their own potions, Jisung pointedly clears his throat. Minho quirks an eyebrow, but doesn’t stop squeezing the Sopophorous Beans.

“Hey,” Jisung whispers, trying to get his attention properly. Minho hums, but still doesn’t look at him, and Jisung feels irritation growing in his stomach. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Minho puts down the knife carefully, as if he already knows what it’s about. “I’m listening,” he says, tilting his head slightly to the side. Jisung sees him glance towards the direction of the storage room with ingredients but, quickly enough, his eyes are already back at Jisung.

Jisung clears his throat again, a little awkwardly.

“Were you serious?” he asks. “About the date?”

He feels weird.

He can’t name the feeling, he can’t place it, he can’t put it on a specific shelf in his mind, and it’s beginning to drive him absolutely insane.

To try and take his mind off the strange silence that lasts a moment too long for his comfort, Jisung carefully reaches towards the squeezed ingredients on Minho’s cutting board and places them into the cauldron.

“Did you want me to be serious?”

Jisung’s gaze shifts back to Minho’s face, regarding him with narrowed eyes. “It’s annoying when you speak like that,” he says, scoffing.

Minho chuckles, unbothered, and hands him another bean. After putting it in the potion, Jisung stirs three times clockwise.

“And maybe… maybe I want you to be,” he says more quietly, for Minho’s ears only. 

The soft smile he receives in return—and the awfully failed wink that ends up just being Minho closing both his eyes (Jisung hates himself for finding it charming )—is enough to make his mind spin. 

When Minho speaks again, he just about passes out. 

“By the way,” he starts. “I think your hair looks really pretty on you.” 

That’s all he says, because Jeno is coming back with Chamomile and Minho’s focus is back on the potion.

Jisung’s focus never really leaves Minho. 

✦

November brings colorful leaves and rainy mornings, more pumpkin tarts on the table in the Great Hall, and evenings that only get colder. It brings another Quidditch game in the first weekend, one that has Jisung trying his best not to freeze in the stands, while his fellow housemates battle the Hufflepuffs on the pitch.

Felix and Hyunjin are sitting a row lower, their cheeks painted black and yellow, smiling ear to ear, even though they aren’t Quidditch fans at all. Yes, maybe Jisung can’t say that he’s a very devoted fan of any sport, for that matter, but every Slytherin win is almost like his own win—it makes his chest swell with pride, as if he himself was flying on a broomstick and scoring points.

Hufflepuffs have been getting better every year, and seeing the amount of determination the players move through the air with, no one could say that the Slytherins managed to take the lead with ease.

The next time the quaffle is thrown through the Hufflepuff loop, Jisung doesn’t even get a moment to enjoy the set of points scored for his house. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices someone pushing through his row, surely to take a seat next to him. Jisung turns to Seungmin to ask to switch seats with him, because he isn’t particularly keen on the idea of suddenly sharing his space with a stranger, but before he manages to open his mouth, a voice, slightly muffled by happy chattering, reaches his ears.

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

At the sound of Minho’s honey voice, Jisung turns his head his way so quickly that his vision blurs. He blinks to get rid of the dizziness and nods at the older Ravenclaw, pretending that his mind isn’t spinning just because of the sight of him—that’s embarrassing to admit, even just to himself. 

Minho shoots him a smile so little that it shouldn’t be considered a smile—and yet it still manages to stir a whirlpool of emotions in Jisung’s chest—and sits on the wooden bench right next to him.

Resting his chin on the palm of his hand, elbow pressed into his thigh, Minho leans forward. His eyes attentively follow the players in the air, but there’s some boredom to it that Jisung can’t really place.

“You’re late,” Jisung can’t help but notice.

Minho turns to face him and nods shortly. “I had something to do,” he explains. “And I noticed you up here before I noticed my friends and thought it wouldn’t hurt to sit next to you.”

Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up despite him trying not to seem affected at all. He isn’t. He’s just mildly surprised—but maybe he shouldn’t be. It’s not that big of a deal, Jisung tells himself. 

“I wasn’t searching for you na stands, if you’re worried about that,” Minho adds with a slight curve to his rosy lips.

His hair is messier than usual, sticking out in all different directions and his bottom lip is split. Jisung’s gaze lingers on his eyes for a moment too long, looking for that blazing fire—he doesn’t see it. Minho stares right back at him, curious. 

More out of habit than anything else, Jisung shakes his head. “I’m not worried,” he says. “We’re not really strangers, are we?”

Minho doesn’t reply.

A weird feeling about having said something wrong settles deep in the pit of Jisung’s stomach. With an apology on the tip of his tongue, he turns to the side, but the worry dissipates once he notices how Minho is actually smiling to himself.

Out of nowhere, Jisung feels smitten. 

✦

The weather gets even worse and the only thing keeping Jisung on his feet is the hot chocolate waiting for him in the Great Hall and the Ancient Runes assignment he still has to do.

He sits down next to Felix and accepts the toast he’s handed with a sigh. He would rather be anywhere but here, honestly. 

Despite it being time for dinner, the Great Hall isn’t filled with students like it should, and Jisung can only guess everyone’s gone to bed early, feeling under the weather. He wishes he could do the same. 

Jisung chews on the toast, not really paying attention to the conversation around him, too tired to make his brain analyze words and sounds. Resting his cheek on his palm, he closes his eyes. It’s really hard not to fall asleep surrounded by whispers and the chilling sound of loud raindrops crashing on the windows.

“You’re going, Jisung, right?”

He snaps out of the haze and looks at Jeongin with confusion written all over his face. 

“You’re going to the library later, right?”

Jisung nods and grabs the mug full of hot chocolate; it’s nothing compared to the one his dad makes at home, but it makes the warmth spread all over his inside in a similar way, the sugar energizing him just that little bit.

“I’m gonna tag along,” Jeongin says in between munching on his food.

Jisung furrows his brows. “What for?”

He’s tapping his foot against the leg of the table when a blur of blue appears within his vision.

He feels awfully embarrassed as he succumbs to the urge and looks, realizing that it isn’t who he thought it to be, but just another student with equally bright hair.

Jisung shifts his gaze back to his friends, hoping the warmth he feels isn’t showing on his face.

“I’m just gonna grab a few books and leave you, don’t worry,” Jeongin snickers.

Jisung fights the urge to throw the last bite of his toast at his face, eventually deciding that not even his friend is worth wasting food.

When they eventually finish their light dinner, Jisung feels as if everything is happening in slow mode. As they walk out of the Great Hall and head to the library, the halls are pretty much deserted, quiet and empty; the rain is still crashing against the windowpanes relentlessly, seemingly not close to letting up.

The door to the library screeches as Jisung pushes it open, disturbing the silence of the castle, and Jeongin sends him an annoyed look.

“Not my fault,” he whispers, shrugging. 

Jeongin just shakes his head and steps inside. He leaves Jisung by the librarian’s desk and disappears into the Reference Section without as much as a goodbye.

Fixing the bag slung over his shoulder, Jisung sighs and starts walking to the farthest section of the library; just in the very corner, hidden by shelves and surrounded by foggy windows, tucked away from the eyes of curious people, is a table Jisung usually occupies when he needs to study here and not in his own room.

Jisung likes it best just because it’s quiet and not many students really come by, most preferring the tables in the sections they need books from.

He’s surprised to round the corner and see the boy with a mess of blue hair on his head occupying his favorite spot. 

Minho appears to be nose deep in the book he’s studying, but when Jisung emerges from behind the shelves, he looks up, eyes glimmering in the golden hue of the library lamps.

“Hello,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Jisung snorts. He sets his bag down on the floor and plops down on the chair across from Minho. “Didn’t know you wear glasses,” he points out.

Minho, as if out of habit, pushes them back on the bridge of his nose and sends him a faint smile. “Only to study and if I’m too lazy to put in contacts.”

Jisung nods, running fingers through his hair. He reaches into his bag, pulling out a sheet of paper he’s going to need this evening and runs his hand down the page.

“I wear them too,” he says, even though Minho probably doesn’t care; though his head is tilted to the side as though he’s listening when Jisung briefly glances up. “Not as often as I should, but my dad probably shouldn’t know that.”

They both chuckle, Minho unfortunately hiding his grin behind his palm, although Jisung is sure he isn’t that funny—not enough to make him laugh this giddily.

“But you look good in yours,” Jisung adds a little more quietly.

Minho’s eyebrows shoot up. He quickly ducks his head down, but Jisung catches a glimpse of his red-tinted cheeks and he can’t help but think that the natural blush suits him well. 

“Thanks,” Minho tells him quietly, pushing the specs up the bridge of his nose, seemingly out of habit.

They don’t speak much after that, both busy with what they came to the library for, although Jisung would rather talk to Minho than keep writing his Ancient Runes essay. He doesn’t like it and doesn’t deem it satisfying enough, feeling like it barely makes any sense; but he’s rewritten the beginning over three times and he’s already fed up, so it will have to do. 

In between what seems like fruitless studying, he tries to steal a quick glance at Minho. He can’t tell much, but the Ravenclaw appears to be writing something that doesn’t really look like schoolwork. It’s none of his business, though, so Jisung goes back to his own work.

When he looks up from the sheet of paper and out of the window again, it’s dark outside. He furrows his brows in confusion, clears his throat, and then speaks up.

“Can you tell me what time it is?” he asks, since Minho has got a watch on his wrist and he’s forgotten to wear his own this morning. 

“Quarter past ten,” Minho shrugs.

Jisung’s eyes go wide. The curfew. “It’s too late for us to be here.”

“I’ve got Headmistress Bae’s permission to stay in the library as long as I want,” Minho declares. Jisung has never heard of such a thing, and the confusion must show on his face, because Minho adds, “My parents asked her to give me full access to the books ‘cause I have to study more.”

It doesn’t make him feel any less surprised.

Why? Jisung wants to ask, ever so nosy, but Minho looks like he doesn’t want to elaborate any further—he’s the last person that Jisung wants to make uncomfortable with his stupid prying, so he doesn’t ask.

He shrugs instead, and focuses on his paper again, giving himself those additional minutes of writing since he has to finish this essay today to hand it in on time.

Determined, Jisung scribbles rows and rows of gibberish for another while, though he knows he’s not really getting anywhere with it.

He lets out a sigh.

It’s tiring to spend so much time on essays and classes when he doesn’t have an idea what to do with his life after graduation, when he doesn’t even know if all this information will be of any use after he leaves the school. It feels like he’s too young to choose what he wants to dedicate his life to.

It scares him to the bones.

When Minho closes another book on medical use of some plant Jisung doesn’t even know and his own handwriting gets even messier than usual, Jisung leans back on his chair and blinks a few times.

Minho keeps pushing back the glasses on his nose—it looks like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. He doesn’t look tired, even though he’s spent much more time in here than Jisung has and all Jisung wants to do is go to sleep; he must be used to studying so late.

Jisung can’t help but wonder what’s making him work this hard.

He supposes it would be much easier to work with some sort of motivation; it’s difficult without having anything other than wanting to be a good son.

Jisung rolls his shoulders back, already feeling the back pain he’ll be suffering from tomorrow, as Minho stretches his arms over his head. He looks around the little corner they’re in and sighs softly when his eyes land on Jisung, the corners of his mouth curling up just slightly.

“How long do you usually stay here?” Jisung asks in a whisper.

Minho swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, clearing his throat. “Well, until Renjun realizes I’m not sound asleep in my bed and comes here to kick my ass,” he says playfully, but Jisung knows there must be quite a lot of truth in it.

In the faint light of the library’s lamps, Minho looks absolutely and unfairly stunning.  

Embarrassment fills Jisung’s chest, a strange pressure on his heart, as this thought crosses his head and he breaks eye contact, as though afraid Minho could somehow read his mind.

Jisung freezes when hears footsteps on the marble floor and realizes that, well—Minho may have the library pass, but he doesn’t. And if he gets caught past curfew, Slytherin will lose points and Jisung can’t afford that.

The footsteps get louder, but Minho looks unaffected, like he doesn’t even hear them, looking over the pile of books on the table beside him instead.

Jisung hears the person before he sees them. 

“You’re here again, huh?” they ask.

When Huang Renjun comes into his sight, Jisung must say the boy is mildly surprised about seeing him there. Awkwardly, Jisung puts his hand up and waves, like a total fool, but Renjun just shoots him a smile just as awkward and reaches out to smack Minho on the shoulder.

Minho, apparently accustomed, only sighs at Renjun’s expression and mutters, “Okay, okay.” He turns to face Jisung again and smiles at him softly. “I gotta go or he kills me here and now,” he whispers conspiratorially.

Jisung can practically hear Renjun roll his eyes.

“I might as well,” he says.

Jisung just nods, the corner of his mouth quirking up at their bickering. “I was about to leave too, I feel like passing out.”

A weird expression that Jisung can’t really decipher flashes over Minho’s face, though it might be nothing; afterall, Jisung has never been good at reading people.

Before he can say anything else, though, Renjun picks up Minho’s pile of books and waves him goodbye. He then grabs the elder’s hand and drags him out of the library, this time without verbal protests.

Jisung is left alone.

When he gets back to the dorm—at record speed, too afraid to get caught after curfew—Seungmin, who’s still awake, reading the muggle book Felix got him as a birthday present, accuses him of going on night escapades with Minho.

Jisung doesn’t even have the energy to try and convince him otherwise.

✦

It’s not yet dark outside when Jisung arrives at the seventh floor.

He looks around, confused, not really sure why Minho has him come here. Earlier that afternoon, he grabbed Jisung’s arm in the halls after his Numerology class and asked if Jisung was free this evening. He said yes and Minho told him to come here.

So Jisung has.

The halls are almost empty at that hour, stretching out and out into the darkness, and Jisung is sure he wouldn’t be able to see the end of it if the dimming lights weren’t hung over the walls. 

Minho isn’t there yet.

Jisung huffs in slight annoyance and leans over the windowsill, looking out on the Black Lake. The glass is cold when he follows the traces of raindrops with his fingers; the weather has been relentless lately, thunderstorms almost an integral part of the day.

There’s a tingling sensation deep in his stomach which roots he can’t really place. 

He’s not nervous. It’s weird, really; Jisung doesn’t do too well around strangers. And that’s what him and Minho are, kind of. 

He turns around when the faint sound of footsteps fills his ears. Catching himself staring cautiously in the direction they come from, Jisung isn’t sure what he’s so afraid of. 

When the person finally emerges from the darkness, Jisung lets out a sigh of relief; Minho has finally decided to show up, with his messy hair and soft eyes, and he hasn’t stood Jisung up.

“Thanks for waiting,” Minho says, an apologetic smile on his lips. “I was helping the guys with practice and lost track of time.” 

He gestures for them to walk, but they don’t even pass the entire hallway and Minho is already tugging on Jisung’s sleeve to stop him.

“What are we doing here?” Jisung asks, looking around, but—unsurprisingly—there’s nothing but stone walls around here and a storage door a few feet away.

It seems like a strange place to hang out—a strange place for their first date.

Minho doesn’t look like he is capable of beating someone up, but you never know; Jisung would be lying if he said he wasn’t having second thoughts. 

Minho snorts, as if he can hear the mess that are his thoughts. “Close your eyes,” he requests. 

Jisung draws his brows together. 

To be honest—it wouldn’t be the first time someone asked Jisung to come to some dark corner of the castle just to make out, but he’d been honestly hoping for more from Minho.

Caught off guard, he says the first thing that comes to his tired mind. “What are you gon’ do? Kiss me?”

Silence.

Jisung drops his widened eyes to the ground, embarrassed at how dumb he must’ve sounded, and mentally slaps himself ten times on both cheeks, because—Merlin, sometimes Jisung should just keep his thoughts inside his mind, not spill them out into the open.

But when another moment passes and he finally dares to steal a glance at him, Minho is grinning. Maybe Jisung should get used to the fact that Minho isn’t like most people.

“Not yet,” he says confidently—with amusement. Jisung’s breath hitches. “Just close your eyes.”

“You won’t run away, right?” Jisung asks quietly, nervousness finding home in the spaces between his words. “That would be too embarrassing. Don’t run away.”

Minho quirks an eyebrow. “Are you afraid I would?”

Jisung snaps his mouth and eyes shut in tandem. “Be quiet, I closed them.”

He can hear Minho step back and fights the urge to open his eyes and check what he’s doing—he can’t help but fear that Minho would just do this for laughs, that’s just how Jisung is. But Minho’s footsteps echo off the stone floor right next to him and that’s somehow even more confusing. A quiet sound reaches Jisung’s ears, and then silence.

“You can look now,” he hears suddenly after a moment, and he hates the relief that washes over him at the sound of Minho’s voice.

If Jisung thought opening his eyes would clear things up, he was wrong.

He blinks repeatedly, even rubs at his eyes, but the sight before him doesn’t disappear. “I’m pretty sure that door was not on this wall,” he says, voice breathy in disbelief. Why is there a door on this damn wall?” 

He shouldn’t be that surprised. After all, he lives in a castle—in a school that teaches magic to wizards. Because Jisung is a wizard, a wizard that wields magic.

And yet. 

Minho chuckles at his reaction and reaches out to take his hand with what seems to be utmost gentleness and pulls Jisung forward so they aren’t just standing in the middle of the hallway.

The enormous door squeaks when Minho pushes them open; Jisung looks around, afraid they’ve alarmed the entire castle with the awful noise, but there’s nothing unusual about the dark hallways, and Minho is pulling him inside before he can even make sure. 

Jisung’s eyes must be of the size of galleons, because Minho laughs again.

But he turns a deaf ear, too concerned with the sight before him—his mind can’t comprehend how it’s possible. How can a sandy beach with the clearest water in the universe appear out of nowhere in Hogwarts?  

In overwhelming disbelief, Jisung turns around to face Minho and finds him already staring. His eyes are like the sun. Golden, burning, blinding. So he looks away for a split second to catch his breath, feeling as though he’d been running.

“What… What is this place?”

Minho is beaming when Jisung tears his eyes away from the sea stretching in front of them infinitely and looks back at him. He gestures, vaguely motioning Jisung to follow him as he starts walking down the shore, sand squeaking under his shoes. 

Jisung has no choice—he scrambles right after him, delight at this point sewn into his features, laced with astonishment. 

The sunrays gently tickle his cheeks, and the cool breeze gives him chills as he catches up with Minho. It’s strikingly different to what the weather should be like right now—how it is outside this… place.

“It’s the Room of Requirement,” Minho tells him after a moment Jisung spends on looking around like a curious kid. “Basing on your reaction, I can only guess you’ve never seen it before.”

“I know what it is, vaguely, but I haven’t seen it with my own two eyes before,” he admits. Minho, on the contrary, seems well acquainted with the place.

“I was thinking about our date,” Minho shrugs, “and this place crossed my mind. The weather’s been awful lately, hasn’t it? Don’t you miss the sun, Jisung?” He steals a glance at Jisung out of the corner of his eye. “We can always go back, but since the door hasn’t showed up yet, I think you don’t really wanna leave.”

“I don’t,” Jisung admits, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Tell me more about this place. How did you even find it?”

They head straight ahead, walking slowly along the coastline, and Jisung can’t even bring himself to feel embarrassed about how he keeps staring. The waves continuously crash against the cliff in the distance and some birds he can’t recognize fly high over their heads. There’s no single cloud in the sky, weather seemingly too good to be true, especially in the middle of November.

Jisung knows it isn’t exactly true. Just a figment of Minho’s imagination.

“It was a few years ago. I just… wanted to be alone. And the room just showed up when I needed it.” Jisung feels like there’s more to it, but he hums in understanding, anyway, now wanting to pry into Minho’s private life. “After I left, I started searching, trying to find anything there was to know, but every book is just… vague.”

They fall silent, and Minho tilts his head up to the sun, a soft smile spreading across his lips. Jisung watches him in awe, stomach tightening at the sight of who must be the prettiest boy he’s seen in his entire life—the golden halo of his blond hair, the perfect curve of his pink lips, the straight slope of his nose, the glimmer in his dark eyes; he can’t be real.

And then Minho adds, “It’s comforting, kind of—to know that there’s a place you can run away to.”

Jisung tilts his head to the side. “Run away from Hogwarts?”

“Even Hogwarts can get too overwhelming, don’t you think?” Minho buries his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie that he’s wearing despite the heat pricking at their skin. 

Silence falls over them again, broken only by the sounds of the beach, and Jisung feels more at peace than he thinks he ever has. It’s strange to be here with Minho; in a place he doesn’t know with a person he wants to get to know. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to the sea,” Minho admits after a while. “My parents are pretty busy so we don’t really go on vacation.”

“Oh,” Jisung lets out. “Me too—I mean, the sea part. It’s really refreshing to be here after such a long time.”

He inhales deeply—the air here is fresh, clear, almost sweet with the scent of fruit from somewhere. He must look like a fool, smiling to himself, absorbing the peace and quiet he hasn’t had a chance to experience for a while, but he doesn’t really care.

“Do you wanna sit down? We can eat something, if you want to. Have you even had dinner?” 

Before Jisung gets a chance to respond, Minho’s already tugging on his arm, pulling him forward.

They sit down in the shade of a palm tree, with a picnic basket and a blanket ready at the feet of the tree. The climate here is weird, Jisung thinks, but since it’s all Minho’s head, it feels right.

Minho uncaps a bottle of lemonade and hands it to Jisung, leaning back against the tree. He’s looking at Jisung without a break, as though Jisung is the only thing that actually interests him here.

(Jisung should stop being such a sap and such a romantic.) 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” he says in the heat of the pleasant moment.

Minho shrugs, but by the way his eyes light up, Jisung knows his words are appreciated. “It might be a lame date, but when we can’t really leave Hogwarts, we don’t have much to choose from.”

A date.

Jisung bites down on his lip and scoots over to lean his head against Minho’s shoulder. His insides feel warm and maybe it’s just the sunlight, but he likes the sensation.

“It’s alright,” he assures. “I love it here—really. And I wouldn’t mind just… I don’t know. Even sitting in complete silence with you would be nice.”

Minho quirks an eyebrow. “Like that one time in the library?” Jisung nods as much as he can with his cheek squished against the Ravenclaw’s shoulder. “So you’re saying it was a date?” 

Jisung’s breath catches in his throat. 

“Maybe,” he says slowly—carefully.

Minho’s body shakes when he starts to giggle.

Jisung leans back and looks at him, looks for real, studying attentively the way his nose scrunches, the way his eyes crinkle, the way his smile widens and widens and widens. 

Jisung’s heart erupts in delight because, as silly as it is, he’s the cause of Minho’s smile, and making people happy—people he cares about—lands high on his priorities list.

Sneaking an arm around Jisung’s waist, Minho pulls him back onto his shoulder. Jisung doesn’t particularly enjoy sunbathing, but the sun caressing his legs when the rest of his body is hidden in the shade of the tree and Minho by his side have him liking this imaginary summer a bit more.

He closes his eyes, but not for long, because soon enough Minho is mumbling, “Can you read to me?”

Jisung opens one eye, confused, and that’s when he notices the book lying on Minho’s belly. It makes him wonder how the Ravenclaw even knows that he likes to read—that Jisung likes fairy tales, and definitely why he wants Jisung to read for him.

Still, he doesn’t even intend to refuse, sitting up immediately to pick up the book and running his palm over the cover. It’s pretty, but vague, with a single drawing of a mirror in an ornate, golden frame and with a cloth thrown over the half of it.

Minho smiles warmly. “ Alice in Wonderland is your book. The Other Side of the Mirror is mine.” 

“I’ve never read it.”

“Well, then, I’m glad to be here when you do it for the first time.”

Heat rises to Jisung’s cheeks and spreads all inside his chest as Minho pulls him back against his side. He closes his eyes to calm the nervous speeding up of his heartbeat that’s causing a confused commotion in his head.

Jisung clears his throat and scans the first page of The Other Side of the Mirror with his gaze, not really knowing what to expect. He glances up at Minho before he starts reading, just to see him in total delight—his eyes are closed, like he’s giving all his attention to Jisung, and lips curled up in a slight smile; he seems peaceful, maybe even happy.

Jisung lets out a sigh and begins reading.

The Bomulsom Kingdom was prosperous. The King provided his people with support and didn’t allow them to experience poverty or any misfortune. He had no idea, however, that his son and the sole heir to the throne didn’t want to take the crown after him. He didn’t want to bear the responsibility, believing that he wouldn’t be able to match his father’s power. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t see himself as the future king.

During one of his wanderings around the castle, when looking for a quiet place where he could escape from the constant nagging, in the dungeons, he found a locked door with an engraved crescent moon.

It looked like no one had been using them for a long time and, unsurprisingly, the key was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t dwell on it, afraid to get caught snooping around, so he left the dungeons.

The thoughts, all centered around the secret door, however, didn’t leave him alone.

He couldn’t recall anyone ever mentioning this place and he couldn’t ask, either—going to the dungeons was prohibited. 

One day, while he was in his father’s chambers, in the portrait of his grandfather, he noticed that the man was wearing a necklace with a crescent key on it. When he foolishly asked his father about the symbol, the King snapped at him, forbidding from ever asking about the key and ever mentioning the crescent moon again.

The Prince couldn’t, however, forget about it, more so with the reaction of his father’s reaction that only fueled his interest instead of making it die down.

That’s why, once the King left the palace for a meeting with nobles, he had crept into his father’s chambers to search. After the King’s reaction, he had a feeling the key was definitely there. Careful not to leave any traces, he spent way too much time searching through the room, and he was about to lose all his hope after not finding as much as a hint of where the key could be, when his grandfather’s portrait caught his attention again.

An idea popped into his mind. 

The Prince gently tried to move the picture frame aside and had to hold back the victorious grin when he noticed the key stuck with a piece of tape on the inner side of the canvas. He tore it away, shoved it into his pocket, and left the chambers in a rush.

He didn’t go to the dungeons until a few days later, so as not to raise suspicion. When he had finally managed to slip away, he found that the key fit perfectly in the lock and the door swung open easily without making a noise, which was strange considering it hadn’t been opened for years and years.

For safety, though, he locked the door again as soon as he closed it behind himself.

The whole room was empty, dusty, full of cobwebs and dirt. The only thing that drew his attention was the cloth thrown over something. Intrigued, he grabbed the hem of it and pulled it off. He was surprised to see what must’ve been the most beautifully sculptured mirror he had ever laid his eyes on.

As he touched the surface of the mirror, trying to get rid of the dust that had settled over it with time, he felt a twinge in his stomach.

He closed his eyes as the feeling became unbearable, as though someone had been clenching a fist around his gut.

When he fluttered them open again, he fell to his knees. Looking around in confusion, he noticed that he wasn’t in the dungeons anymore. He wasn’t even in his castle. 

As he sprung to his feet, he stumbled back, seeing a girl that seemed awfully familiar, and her eyes that bore through his soul.

“What’s taken you so long to get here, Bertie?” 

Jisung blinks in confusion, turning the page, only to see it blank on the other side. “What? Where’s the rest of the story? It can’t seriously end like this…” He looks up at Minho just to see him grinning from ear to ear. “What’s this about?”

“It’s about this exact feeling, right here,” he digs his finger into Jisung’s belly. “Anyone can come up with their own ending, that’s why I like it so much.”

Jisung hums. “I kinda hate it,” he says, making Minho laugh, and closes the book to let out a sigh. “Then… what’s your ending?”

Minho falls silent for a moment, but Jisung knows he’s just thinking because his fingers are moving, drawing stars in the sand.

“I think that he was a normal boy on the other side of the mirror,” he says eventually. “Maybe it was another universe. Maybe he got stuck there or willingly stayed. If that was the case, I think he’d be happy. He didn’t want to be the king, right? It would be nice for him, I think.” 

Jisung thinks there might be more to the story but he doesn’t voice that out. Instead, he lets his cheek rest against Minho’s shoulder—just for a little while, he tells himself, but it’s way past the curfew and way too late when they finally leave the Room of Requirement.

Minho walks Jisung all the way back to the dungeons and teases him about being a coward, because Jisung doesn’t want to get caught walking through the halls at night by a teacher or a prefect on duty.

Jisung lets him, with one single nudge to his ribs, because he’s tired and Minho’s voice sounds like the prettiest lullaby with that teasing lilt to it.

“Thank you for today,” he whispers when they stop by the entrance to Slytherin’s common room. “I really had the best time.”

Minho tilts his head to the side and stares at him intently. “So… you’re up for another date?” 

Jisung’s heart shouldn’t skip a beat like it does; he must talk to his dad about it, he thinks, maybe it’s something he should have checked out with a doctor.

He nods, though, a little too happy at the prospect of seeing Minho again in a romantic setting. 

Minho breaks into a soft smile, ducking his head down, like he doesn’t want Jisung to see just how delighted his response makes him. “Okay, I’ll get going then, and catch you sometime,” he mumbles. “Sweet dreams, Hannie. See you.”

He begins walking away, still facing Jisung, as the Slytherin leans against the cold wall of the castle. Heshould be careful, Jisung thinks as he watches him go; he might slip and fall and break an arm and Jisung would feel too guilty, even though it’s Minho’s own choice to just keep staring.

It’s almost funny, though, how his eyes linger on Jisung, glimmering in the dark dungeons, until the very moment Minho reaches the stairs and disappears.

Jisung ignores the swiveling warmth in his chest. It’s too soon.

✦

The next weeks of Jisung’s life are full of cheesecake, cheap muggle wine, Felix’s cuddles, way too hang-outs with Minho to count, and—unfortunately—Arithmancy homework. His dad writes him and Eunji a few letters, asking how they’re doing, and attaches a decent amount of printed non-moving, muggle pictures of their cat, Byeol.

When Jisung opens one of these letters next to Minho, the Ravenclaw’s eyes go wide, almost as big as saucers. “ Merlin’s beard! What’s this cute little creature?”

Jisung takes in his interest with amusement.

“It’s Byeol. Eunji and I got him for our dad so he isn’t too lonely when we’re at school,” he explains with a smile. “They’re pretty good friends, but—if you asked me—Byeol likes me better than everyone else.”

Trying to pass him the photo, he accidentally elbows Minho in the side. The windowsill they’re sitting on is big enough for them to have their own space, but they must prefer being squished together, since neither of them has proposed moving somewhere else yet.

Jisung notices Minho goes quiet as he holds one of the pictures in his hands delicately, as if he’s scared it will fall apart. He seems to be debating something else in his head and Jisung tries to seem nonchalant as he folds the letter, slipping it back into the envelope.

“You know… you can ask. I don’t mind,” he says finally, meeting Minho’s eyes as the older boy looks up from Byeol.

“We’re unlocking the family trauma level so soon?”

It’s not really that much of a trauma, but Minho’s wording is funny, so Jisung can’t help but let out a graceless snort. It must ease Minho’s worries, at least a little, because he actually asks his question, though still with a hint of hesitation, unsure if it’s completely alright.

“You keep mentioning your dad, but not your mom. Did she—Uhm, did she pass away?”

Jisung sees Minho cringe, grimacing at his wording, so he nudges his side to ease the tension. Their eyes lock again, and Jisung puts on a slight smile.

“She’s still alive,” he says then. “At least—Well, I suppose. She left not long after giving birth to us and we haven’t really heard from her since. I don’t remember her well, either. I mean, I was too little to remember anything, so…”

Minho looks too apologetic for someone who has nothing to do with it and for someone who didn’t know. Jisung kind of feels like punching him, mostly because he hates being pitied and that’s what he makes out of Minho’s expression.

Instead of punching him immediately, though, he just warns, “Don’t even say you’re sorry or I’ll push you on the floor. I’ve heard too much of it, I don’t need you to say it.”

Minho lets out a sigh, nodding. He hands Jisung back the picture of Byeol and quietly says, “Your dad did a really good job raising you two. I’d like to meet him one day. He seems really cool.”

Okay, now—Jisung must write that in his response letter. His dad will probably end up crying out of happiness, because one of Jisung’s friends thinks he’s a cool guy.

Jisung grins, cheeks feeling awfully warm. “You can come over anytime I’m home, really, and even if I weren’t there, my dad would probably have you over, still,” he says, watching as a pretty smile blooms on Minho’s face. “And you should meet Byeol, too. You like cats, right?”

Unsurprisingly, Minho lights up even more at that proposition. “I love cats, but my parents wouldn’t allow me to have one, so petting other people’s cats at school must be enough.”

Jisung nods, but he does feel a little bit sad that Minho can’t have his own pet.

“I miss Byeol a lot when I see other cats here, ‘cause, you know, he’s really cuddly, but other cats not particularly, not when they don’t know me,” he says. “He would definitely like you.”

Minho cracks a smile, face lighting up at the very, very weak compliment. Jisung should work on them, really, because seeing this warmth-radiating flame in Minho’s eyes is too good of a feeling to miss out.

As he ducks his head down, Minho glances at the watch perched on his wrist and curses under his breath. Before Jisung can even ask, he’s jumping off the windowsill and shifting to stand in front of Jisung, looking up with his eyes apologetic.

“I gotta go to practice, sorry,” he says, jutting his lower lip out way too cutely. “But I’ll catch you later, okay? Or tomorrow, maybe. It might end late.”

Jisung tries to look and sound stern when he says, “Don’t stay out too late, though. If Renjun won’t have your head, I will,” but, if the soft smile on Minho’s face is anything to go by, he isn’t even a tiny bit threatening.

Minho’s hands are suddenly on his thighs, patting them once or twice, and then he rushes out a “don’t worry,” and he’s gone, almost running down the hallway.

Jisung’s cheeks feel hot when he presses his cold hands against them.

✦

Seungmin gives him the look when Jisung once again mutters something about hanging out with Minho and leaves the dormitory.

It’s not like they have been going out that much, really. Minho had been right when he said there wasn’t a lot of things to do at Hogwarts, but Jisung had never really gone on dates other than Hogsmeade before, so he wouldn’t know.

But, somehow, they still make it work.

When it’s raining (and that happens quite frequently all over November), they either go to the Room of Requirement and lay in front of a fireplace with dimmed lights, stuffing their cheeks with marshmallows until their tongues feel like falling off, or stay in the library, reading books to each other, tucked away in the far corner of the room.

If the weather is nice, Jisung runs through the entire castle to find Minho and they walk all around the Black Lake, trying to make the most out of the sparse sunny days.

They hang out in between classes, steal sweets from the Kitchen, and look through all the pictures of Byeol that Jisung’s dad sends him.

Minho is busy studying for NEWTs and coming up with new tactics for Quidditch matches, and Jisung has much more homework than he would like, because it seems like every teacher at Hogwarts has simultaneously thought, “Hey, these kids don’t have exams this year, let’s give them so much essays to write their hands will fall off before the Christmas break!”.

So, yes, Jisung has to disagree with Seungmin, because they don’t spend that much time together. (Definitely less than he would like, but that’s another thing.)

He sighs, head throbbing after reading through another chapter of Voyages with Vampires for his Defence class. Hyunjin is sitting across from him, bravely researching more about the topic to fill out the blanks in his memory. Jeongin, who’s now casting a spell on Felix’s new flower crown to make it everlasting, has finished his paper the same day the teacher asked them to write it; Jisung is kicking himself he hasn’t done the same.

He’s about to go back to reading when a certain Ravenclaw with electric blue hair comes into his view and, before he even registers what he’s doing, Jisung’s hand shoots up to wave in his direction.

Minho notices him, because of course he does, and a soft smile blooms on his face. He starts walking to their table, greeting his friends before he greets Jisung—though, Jisung can’t help but notice how his voice gets softer when Minho says his name; but maybe he’s just imagining things, maybe it’s just his tired mind giving him stupid ideas.

“You wanna sit with us?” Jeongin asks.

Jisung quirks an eyebrow, surprised at the friendliness, but doesn’t comment as Minho shrugs and sets down the pile of books he’d been walking with through the library.

“You’re gonna read these today?” Seungmin questions.

Jisung is quick to respond with a snicker. “Don’t underestimate him,” he says.

Seungmin shrugs, throwing his hands up in surrender, as Minho smiles weakly and opens one of his books. Jisung steals a glance at what he’s reading and, admittedly, is not surprised by the choice of the title.

“You’re always reading these books about potions and healing and things…” he points out quietly, careful not to disturb his friends.

Minho nods. “I’m going to be a Healer.” 

His face lights up when Jisung smiles, eyes glimmering in the golden hue of the library desk lamps. 

“That’s super cool! I mean, you’re definitely going to be a great one,” Jisung tells him. “Since, you know, you’re the best at potions.”

Minho’s eyes widen almost comically, the red dust covering his cheeks visible in the light.

And then Jeongin says, “Stop flirting like we aren’t here. Some of us have actually come here to study.”

Jisung hears Hyunjin snort, because Jeongin is definitely not studying right now; he rolls his eyes at his friends and then sticks out his tongue, settling on strangling Jeongin when Minho isn’t right by his side.

“I’ll tell you more later, if you want to,” Minho whispers instead and, not waiting for Jisung’s reply, he actually goes back to his book, getting to work.

They split at the Great Hall when it’s time for dinner; Minho is called by Changbin and his other friends to join them, and—as much as he wants to keep Minho around for a little longer—Jisung doesn’t want to have them waiting, so he pushes the Ravenclaw towards the Gryffindor table.

Before Minho leaves, though, he leans a little bit too close to Jisung and whispers, “After dinner, seventh floor,” like it’s some classified information—a secret just for the two of them.

After eating something light for dinner, when Jisung looks over to where Minho is sitting, he finds the boy already gone. He sits up, a toast still in hand, ignoring the confused stares from their friends; Seungmin is the only one who looks like he already knows what’s up.

“Keep eating,” he says. “He’s ditching us for his boyfriend.”

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” Jisung just answers. He tries to ignore the “yet” Jeongin yells as he’s leaving the Great Hall, and the silly choir of giggles that follows.

His friends are annoying.

He rolls his eyes and skips happily all the way to the stairs. Thankfully, Jisung knows his way enough to arrive at the seventh floor without falling into trap-steps.

When he turns right around the corner on the seventh floor, he involuntarily stops in his tracks.

Minho is clinging onto the edge of the windowsill, hunched over, breathing so heavily that Jisung can hear it from where he’s standing. 

His heart sinks as he approaches, voice quiet when he hesitantly calls Minho’s name. The Ravenclaw whips around, and Jisung can clearly see his clenched jaw now, though he visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping, when he realizes it’s just Jisung who’s calling him.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Jisung almost physically slaps himself for asking such a stupid question as soon as it uncontrollably leaves his mouth. It’s quite obvious that Minho isn’t feeling alright.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, trying to catch Minho’s gaze, but without succeeding. “Do you want to come into the Room and sit down?” 

The doors are already here, so Jisung supposes Minho had already thought about a cozy place when he came here.

Jisung hesitantly extends his hand and slips it into Minho’s, but his uncertainty dissipates when Minho laces their fingers together, holding onto him tightly enough to hurt. 

Pushing the giant door open and stepping inside, Jisung is immediately hit by a wave of warmth, a striking difference to the piercing cold of the halls of the castle.

There’s a fireplace and a fluffy carpet, just like in most of the imaginary places Minho conjures in his head. What catches him by surprise, though, is the bed and what looks like doors leading to a walk-in closet.

Minho looks around, gritting his teeth. When Jisung glances at him, worried to the bone, he feels like the Ravenclaw might start crying any moment—but Minho doesn’t. He just leads Jisung to the fireplace and sits down on the carpet, and that’s when Jisung notices he’s been clutching a piece of paper in his other hand all this time.

Jisung makes himself comfortable on the carpet beside him, leaning back against the sofa. 

Letting the silence linger for a little longer, he then asks what’s been on his mind since the moment the door opened, though he doesn’t even know where the idea came from, considering how empty and not like Minho this place looks.

“Is this your room?”

Minho answers with a short nod, but he still refuses to meet Jisung’s eyes properly, instead surprising him by handing him the folded paper. Then, he shifts, resting his head down on Jisung’s lap, tired eyes fluttering closed.

Jisung’s hand immediately, as if out of habit, moves to run through Minho’s blue hair as he opens the letter. The handwriting is neat—awfully; to the point it feels almost formal.

‘Minho,

We’ve been notified about your latest Divination essay and the grade you’ve received for not turning it in. I thought your father and I had made ourselves clear when we told you that Quidditch isn’t a career path you should take. Don’t neglect your schoolwork for it. It’s your last year at Hogwarts, don’t embarrass us.

Sincerely, Mother.’

Jisung scoffs, hand uncontrollably clenching around the paper as the sheer anger overtakes him, because— wow! —this woman really has the nerve. He puts the letter down on the floor, pretty sure he will tear it to pieces if he is to have it in his hands for another second, and looks down at Minho.

The older isn’t looking at him, pretending he’s focused on the flames dancing in the fireplace instead, but Jisung’s heart feels like it might jump out of his chest, anyway. He gathers his thoughts for a moment, because cursing out his (maybe-soon-to-be-boy)friend’s mother—as bitchy as she sounds—might not be the best idea.

His fingers tangle in Minho’s hair again, massaging his scalp. “Min-ah,” he whispers, still nervous. “I know her words affected you but, believe me, none of this is true.”

Minho sits up instantly, almost knocking his head against Jisung’s nose, eyes fierce. “You know what?” he snaps bitterly. “This is the first letter they’ve sent me since September. And it doesn’t mention all the good grades I’ve gotten over the months, or the Quidditch win—” he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Merlin, I could be the best student at Hogwarts, win the Quidditch Cup, but if I had one single bad grade, none of it would matter.”

Jisung’s heart breaks in two.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Minho beats him to it, continuing, “I simply forgot about this one assignment, because we had practice all week long. I turned it in right the next day, but for my mother, it’s not enough.”

Jisung would be lying if he said he knows what to tell him. His mind is spinning as he scrambles to find the right words to portray just how he wishes he could make this easier for Minho, but he can’t—neither help him, nor tell him just that.

He holds onto Minho’s hand instead, squeezing a static rhythm into his skin, one that goes in tandem with his heartbeat.

“You’re enough,” Jisung says. “Your grades really are excellent. And even if they weren’t, that would be okay, too, because grades don’t define you. They never will. They aren’t any assurance for the future.” He takes a deep breath. “I think your mother is wrong. You could never embarrass them. What she said is embarrassing for her, though. Who does she think she is?”

Minho snorts. Seeing his crooked, barely-there smile, Jisung can’t help but smile just that tiny bit, too.

“I’m proud of you,” he carries on. “It might not mean much, but I—”

“It means the world to me,” Minho is quick to tell him; if Jisung’s heart skips a beat at that, he does his best to ignore it. Then, Minho takes a deep breath and grimaces. “I’m sorry I ruined the hangout.”

Jisung’s expression hardens as he smacks him on the shoulder for even daring to speak such nonsense. In a fit of confidence and in the heat of the emotional moment, he grabs Minho’s shoulders and pulls him to his chest, embracing him.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he says. “It’s better if you let these things out—always.”

Minho leans back to look at him, arms hanging loose around the younger’s neck. His eyes are warm, warmer than they’ve been a few moments before.

“Besides,” Jisung continues, now feeling a little more shy, “I’m very grateful that you’ve trusted me enough to tell me about this.”

Minho pulls him into another tight hug. “In such a short time, you’ve become a big part of my life—of course I trust you,” he whispers, lips brushing over the shell of Jisung’s ear. “But that also means that I’m never letting go of you now, Han Jisung.”

Jisung really, really doesn’t want him to. 

His hand moves to the back of Minho’s head, pulling him even closer, against his shoulder. Jisung thinks he can even feel the older’s heartbeat where their chests are pressed together, picking up just to slow down, hectic, erratic.

“It’s okay, okay,” he mumbles over and over, until he can feel Minho relax in his arms.

It’s different from what he’s seen of Minho so far, from the determined and composed side of him, but it’s more real than anything else, though Jisung feels a little useless, because his words will never be able to fix the mess in his mind—at least the tender touch of his hands, roaming all over Minho’s back, seem to work at the moment.

Minho is fierce, confident and witty and definitely one of the most dedicated and smart people Jisung knows, pushing himself to his limits—but Minho is also pushing those limits and doing his best to satisfy everyone but himself.

Jisung sighs, defeated.

He knows it’s impossible to change Minho’s mindset over one day, but even if it takes months or years, he wants to spend his time doing just that. Jisung just wants to see Minho proud of himself and the good things he’s capable of.

He breaks his gaze away from the fireplace as an unfamiliar but sweet smell fills his nose. He looks around and quirks an eyebrow when he spots two steaming mugs over on the desk.

“Min-ah? Do you wanna warm up?” he asks quietly and feels Minho shift on his lap.

The Ravenclaw leans back and—cutely—there’s the texture of Jisung’s sweater imprinted on his cheek. He snorts and finds himself getting even more endeared as Minho’s face is overflown by confusion.

He looks cute—so damn cute, Jisung admits to himself and his chest feels lighter.

“You’re stupid,” Minho says, rolling his eyes when Jisung doesn’t enlighten him as to why he’s smiling, but the look on his face is nothing short of gentle. Then, unfortunately, he breaks away completely from Jisung’s arms, standing up. “I’m craving some hot choco. Bet it’s already here.”

He closes his eyes and sniffs around; soon enough, a gentle smile sprawls on his face. Walking over to the desk, he grabs the mugs and hands one of them to Jisung. Then, he sits down on the carpet beside him, their thighs squished together, as though there isn’t enough space to sit apart. 

Jisung takes a few sips of the warm drink and finds himself getting sleepy awfully quickly. He tries to blink it away, not wanting his time with Minho to end and not wanting to leave him alone with his thoughts after the letter from his mother; but Minho hums, as though he can tell Jisung is toppling over the line between dreams and consciousness.

“It’s alright,” he says quietly. “You can lean on my shoulder.”

So Jisung does.

The last thing he remembers is Minho taking the mug from his hands and pulling Jisung down on the floor and onto his shoulder. He remembers lying on a cloud, dreams soft and delicate. He remembers flying high over the ground, sapphire moonlight illuminating the dark night, and a comfortable presence, something like a laugh sounding through the air. 

When he’s being gently shaken awake the next morning, he desperately wants to go back to that peaceful sensation, but the quiet voice speaking to him doesn’t go away, now laced with a chuckle as Jisung pulls faces and grimaces—Jisung is forced to open his eyes.

Minho is hovering over him, a smile wandering across his face. His blue hair is messy and eyes are bloodshot, but when Jisung looks at him, at first glance, he seems to be feeling slightly better than the night before; or, at least, he’s hiding it better, though this thought leaves a stupid ache in Jisung’s chest.

Jisung sits up quickly when his misty mind realizes where he’s woken up, that he’s not in his own bed and definitely not in his dormitory. They almost bump their foreheads with how Minho barely manages to pull back. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he teases, running a hand through his hair. “If we leave now, you can actually go change and make it to your morning classes.”

Jisung groans. “And what about you?”

“I got first period at eleven,” Minho says.

Jisung is impressed, because he’s actually trying to sound apologetic even though he clearly isn’t. And then the realization hits him.

Jisung blinks. “And you’re up just to wake me? Even though you could sleep for, what, two more hours?”

“Listen, I can’t let you skip classes just because I want to keep you around here,” Minho shrugs, blissfully oblivious to the way Jisung’s heart rate skyrockets in his chest. 

“You need to stop being so sweet,” he mumbles, not even realizing when his hand travels up, cupping the side of Minho’s face. Minho, for one, seems completely unaffected, so Jisung forces himself to shove away the embarrassment. “But, really, you should go to your dorm and get some sleep if you can.” Jisung waits a moment longer, thumb sweeping over the soft skin of Minho’s cheek, and then he retracts his hand. “You must be really tired, huh?”

Minho hums with a smile, tilting his head to the side. “Kinda. But I’ll be fine. And—thank you for staying with me last night. You’re a really cuddly sleeper, though. My side hurts from how you were clinging onto me.”

Heat rises to Jisung’s cheeks almost instantly. By the look on Minho’s face, he knows that has been the exact point.

Jisung jumps to his feet, acting all offended with a glaring expression, and heads to the door. Minho laughs behind him, sweet and cheerful, stirring something warm in the depth of Jisung’s chest.

He stops in his tracks with his hand on the door handle, and, turning around, he says, “Don’t thank me, though. I’d do it ten thousand times again.” Then, Jisung grabs the handle with a little too much rush and force, and quickly disappears in the hallway.

As he goes down the stairs, there are more and more students walking through the halls, trying to get to their classes early.

When Jisung gets to his dormitory, though he isn’t exactly rushing to get there on time, all his roommates seem to be gone.

And then—

“Where were you last night?” a voice scares him.

Jisung jumps, clutching his sweater right over his heart, eyes wide. Seungmin is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, a knowing smirk curled on his lips.

“Merlin, Seungmin, maybe try not to give people a heart attack at seven in the morning.”

“Maybe try not to sneak into the dorm so early after spending the night somewhere else.”

Jisung crosses his arms over his chest. “I was not sneaking,” he defends himself. “You just scared me because I thought no one was here.” 

He grabs a fresh set of his uniform clothes from the hanger by his bed and grabs Seungmin’s arm to drag him away from the entrance to the bathroom so he can slip inside. 

“Minho needed me,” Jisung says before closing the door.

It should be enough. 

✦

Seungmin—unsurprisingly—keeps teasing him for the entire week, and soon the rest of Jisung’s friends join in to make him suffer in misery. It’s not that big of a deal to have a sleepover with your friend in need, he thinks, but with everyone around him poking fun, he starts having doubts.

Looking back, he doesn’t notice anything out of extraordinary besides the hugs, because that’s a boundary they have crossed without any explanations needed.

Jisung likes being Minho’s friend—likes the studying and their little dates and crashing in the kitchen to get some freshly baked cake. His presence fits just right in his life, as if there has always been a spot made just for him, just waiting for the right moment for him to take it.

The entire group finishes classes around the same time in the early afternoon; they occupy Felix and Hyunjin’s dorm to chill after a particularly tiring day, because their roommates are out.

Jisung lies on his stomach, the hood of his sweatshirt covering his head as he hides his face in his arms. Thinking about another assignment he needs to write, even though he’s just turned in two essays today, he huffs in annoyance.

He spends entire days in classes, and then he has to sacrifice a big part of what should be his free time to continue doing schoolwork to avoid having it pile up. It’s almost like the professors don’t care about the fact that their students don’t only have their classes and homework to take care of.

Jisung just wants to buy a one way ticket to somewhere far away and never come back. Or at least go back home, to his comfortable bed and his grumpy old cat. He wants to go back to Falkirk and watch muggle football with his dad and walk around the town centre with Eunji without any reason.

Being a full-time Hogwarts student is even more tiring when you have no idea what career path to take after school ends. 

There are a couple of things that Jisung isn’t ready for. The first is graduating. Another is reducing his sugar consumption. And recently Jisung has figured he can add a new one to the list—asking Minho what is going to happen when he graduates.

Are they still going to be friends? Are they going to see each other? Owl each other?

There are a million questions Jisung wants to ask because… because Minho has grown on him and, suddenly, the castle is too big just for him and his group of friends. He knows it’s stupid to think about. It’s just November and they are still getting to know each other and maybe it’s not even something that crosses Minho’s mind, but Jisung has this ugly habit of overthinking and he can’t really help it.

He feels the urge to hide in his covers for the rest of his life—it’s an idea that seems too impossible to be fulfilled.

It’s when Hyunjin and Seungmin fall asleep and Felix tells him and Jeongin to go get them an early dinner from the kitchens that Jisung sees Minho again. He doesn’t even go out with the intention of looking for him, but it seems like him thinking about Minho has the power to summon him.

Minho raises his hand to wave from the other end of the hallway, and Jeongin sighs exasperatedly by Jisung’s side. Still, he says, “It’s okay, I get it,” and tickles the pear on the painting to enter the kitchens, sending Jisung a teasing look before closing the door behind himself.

Now Jisung is quite sure he will never hear the end of this, about how he’s dropping everything just to talk to Minho.

And, well, if he’s already going to be forced to bear all the teasing, he might just use this time well. Jisung steps forward, meeting Minho half-way, and greets, “Hey.”

“You—Are you free now?” Minho’s smile is awkward and his eyes are shining in the rays of the setting sun that’s streaming through the stained glass.

Jisung shrugs. “I mean, I’m having a little get-together with the boys but half of them are asleep so… technically?”

“Would you wanna go for a walk with me, then? Just—Just for a moment?”

The kitchen door opens. Jeongin steps out with his hands full of food and, though he looks like he can barely hold everything up, he takes one look at the two of them and sends them an exasperated sigh.

“Just go,” he says, making Jisung wonder if he heard the conversation or he’s just figured it out himself.

“I swear I’ll give him back soon,” Minho promises, holding out his pinky, and grabs Jisung’s hand, making him stumble on his feet, cursing loudly as he quickens his pace to align it with Minho and follow him out of the castle.

The sun is dipping below the horizon, making the November sky sparkle with a thousand warm hues. It’s chilly outside, but it’s bearable—Jisung really prefers the cold to excessive hotness, mostly because he can hide in his hoodies and under blankets.

As they walk around the castle, there’s nothing but a cozy silence broken by episodic howling and croaking of animals. Jisung doesn’t mind it, obviously, but it’s still strange that Minho brought him here just to be quiet together.

“Is there a reason why you wanted me to go with you?” he asks, glancing to the side to see Minho shrug.

“Do we need a reason to see each other?”

They don’t—definitely not. So Jisung shakes his head, hoping that it’s enough of an answer, that it tells Minho just how much he enjoys being in Minho’s presence; but not like this—not when there’s something on Minho’s mind.

Minho draws his eyebrows together, giving up on wasting time. “I kinda fought with Renjun—?” he breathes out finally. “I don’t know. It’s just… so dumb.”

“What do you mean by kinda ?” Jisung asks, confused.

He breaks his gaze away from Minho and settles it on the Black Lake stretching aheads of them, its depth looking more obscure and terrifying in the dark, as the night begins to fall.

Minho sighs.

“He just got mad because I stayed up ‘til late in the library again , and to him it was… without any reason, and I said that he wouldn’t know because he’s got it all handed to him on a silver platter—” he shakes his head. “I had no right to say that because it’s not true, but it just—I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean it. I don’t think that way.”

Minho lets out a shaky breath, making Jisung realize just how hard it must be to open up this way; it makes Jisung realize how many issues and struggles Minho trusts him with, even though hardly ever there’s something Jisung can do other than offer to be there for him.

It makes his heart race.

“Hell,” Minho continues, “Renjun has always been working so hard and has always taken care of me and I go and say shit like that. I really am an ungrateful asshole.”

Brows furrowed, Jisung grabs his forearm to stop him from continuing the walk along the shore of the lake. Minho looks at him a little absentmindedly.

“Listen to me, okay? You’re not an asshole. I know that, and you know that, and Renjun knows that,” he says, shoulders gripping Minho’s shoulders; he’s just a tiny bit away from shaking some sense into him. “And I know you appreciate Renjun and his friendship, and I’m sure he knows that, too. And I’m also sure—well, not a hundred percent, but you know what I mean—I’m sure that he’s noticed that you’ve been kind of stressed lately.”

Minho blinks at him repeatedly, like he’s trying to comprehend what Jisung is trying to tell him. He looks too much like a lost, sad kitten—a child, Jisung realizes, because he is one.

Minho is still a kid. Minho needs assurance and Minho needs his parents to tell him he did a good job at school. Minho needs his friends to support him and Minho needs to have some fun, too.

Knowing that he isn’t getting all these things is ripping Jisung’s heart apart.

He wants to pull Minho into an embrace and never let go; he doesn’t.

“I believe you guys can work it out, you just really have to talk and apologize,” he says instead. “Renjun has the right to be upset because of what you said so make sure to give him some time. And—well—he is right, really. I understand where you’re coming from, but this whole thing is taking its toll on you.”

Minho shakes his head and begins walking again. “It’s hard for me to do anything else than Quidditch and studying when it’s always been this way, and with exams coming up, I really just can’t focus on anything else.”

“I understand,” Jisung tells him “I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for you to balance all these responsibilities, but you really need a break, Minho. There are people worried about you. I am worried about you.”

Minho is silent for a moment, and when Jisung glances to the side, he sees him shivering. He wraps his arms around himself, probably not wanting Jisung to notice, but it’s too late; Jisung feels stupid for not noticing sooner how Minho is too lightly dressed for this unpredictable weather.

He rolls his eyes and grabs the hem of his sweatshirt, pulling it over his head, and thrusts it into Minho’s direction, sighing when Minho shakes his head. 

“You’re cold,” he points out. Minho still looks like he wants to argue, so Jisung adds, “Just take it. I’ll be fine. I’ve been living in the dungeons for the past six years—at this point I’m immune to the cold.”

Minho snorts, begrudgingly agreeing, and nudges Jisung’s side after he slips the sweatshirt on. The Slytherin embroidery shows proudly on Minho’s chest; as weird as it is, Jisung thinks he might have quite fit in here.

“Thank you. Both for the sweatshirt and for listening—”

Minho cuts himself off.

Jisung eyes him, confused, and then the sound of raindrops crashing against the roof of the castle and destroying the peaceful surface of the lake fills his ears. Jisung knows they’re screwed. Before he can even think of what to do and where to hide, his hair instantly gets wet, sticking to his forehead.

Jisung groans.

 “We have to run back,” Minho tells him rushedly. 

Jisung makes a step forward and, with his t-shirt clinging to his skin, he whines. Minho lifts his eyebrows in question.

“I don’t wanna wet my shoes! They’re new!”

Minho snorts a laugh at his ridiculousness, shaking his head, and Jisung stupidly thinks that making him smile is much, much better when the rain isn’t soaking their clothes.

“And what am I supposed to do? It’s not my fault it’s raining!”

Jisung stomps his foot on the wet grass, droplets of rain splashing around. “Minho!”

After a second too long of what seems to be an internal debate, he sighs, defeated, and turns his back to Jisung, lowering himself just slightly. “Jump!”.

Never in his life has Jisung thought that he would have Lee Minho giving him a piggyback ride back to the castle in the middle of a downpour, but—well, life is unexpectable, after all.

Minho is athletic, so it’s not really a big deal for him to carry a small boy, like he calls Jisung sometimes, but Jisung is still impressed by how fast he’s walking. And if Jisung clings to Minho too tightly despite the solid grip Minho has on his thighs, the older doesn’t comment on it.

They burst into laughter as soon as they step into the castle, clothes soaked through and strands of hair clinging to their faces. Jisung jumps off Minho’s back, even though he wouldn’t mind Minho carrying him around some more.

“What were you guys doing?” they hear out of nowhere and Jisung jumps, startled. Seungmin is eyeing them suspiciously from the stairs leading to the dungeons.

They chuckle again, sharing knowing and secretive looks, and Seungmin shrugs, probably figuring he will never be able to understand the way their minds work, how they manage to understand one another without words. 

Jisung turns to Minho with a smile still lingering on his lips. “Please, talk to Renjun,” he says. “And take a hot shower when you get to the dorms and then go straight to bed. No more studying today.” 

Minho pulls a face, grimacing, but—as though he can’t refuse Jisung—he ends up nodding in agreement.

Silence falls over them and even Seungmin doesn’t dare to interrupt, acting all busy studying the texture of the stone walls of the castle and avoiding looking in their direction. By the time Jisung figures out whether to prepare for a handwave or even a hug or something else, Minho is giving him his awkward smile and somehow it still makes him feel warm inside.

Jisung wants to yell.

Minho turns around on his heel and, without as much as a verbal goodbye, he practically sprints up the stairs.

Seungmin snickers.

“He’s really weird,” Jisung mumbles, more to himself than to anyone else.

“Yeah, but you still like him,” Seungmin points out, rolling his eyes when Jisung shrugs, as if the thought of liking Minho doesn’t make his chest tight and legs feel like jelly. “Why was he even carrying you?”

“It’s pouring outside and I just didn’t want to wet my shoes,” Jisung explains. “It really isn’t that deep. Don’t get any ideas.”

Seungmin raises his eyebrows at him, mocking. “You know you could have just cleaned your shoes by magic?” he says, a mischievous curve to his lips. “You’re a wizard, Jisung.”

✦

As Minho opens his eyes the next morning, he lies in his bed for a moment, looking up at the sapphire canopy above his head. His body feels peaceful—a little too peaceful—after a pretty hectic, though short, evening out with Jisung.

A sudden realization washes over him, just like the rain the night before, and he jumps out from beneath his covers. Checking the time on his alarm clock, he confirms his suspicions and groans, curses spilling out of his mouth in unbreakable strings.

He’s definitely going to be late, even if he grabs his damn broom and flies through the castle instead.

He runs to the bathroom to brush his teeth and changes into his uniform. Minho shivers just as he’s stepping out of the dorm and curses under his breath. Despite having a hot shower right after arriving at the dorms last night, he feels the fever running down his spine, hot electricity coursing under his skin.

Setting a mental reminder to himself to drink a potion when he gets a moment to breathe, Minho grabs the hoodie lying on his bed and leaves the dormitory, rushing even though already late for his Transfiguration class.

He practically runs from the tower to the third floor, trying to put on the sweatshirt at the same time. Professor Greenaway is already closing the door when he gets close enough to the classroom to exclaim, “Please, wait, professor!” The teacher sends him a lighthearted smile as he stops next to her, panting. “I overslept. I’m really sorry.”

She nods and Minho doesn’t dwell on it—he steps into the classroom to take his usual seat next to Changbin and leaves being late behind. He feels other students’ gazes on him as he walks down the aisle, but shrugs it off. He knows it’s not common for him to be late but, hey, he has actually made it just in time—at least before the teacher came in.

He sighs, taking the book and a notepad out of his bag, and blinks a few times when his vision gets hazy—a little bit blurry. He really should get some medication after this class; he can’t afford landing with a fever in the Infirmary.

Changbin nudges Minho in the side, completely disregarding the pretentious glare Minho offers him. The Gryffindor nods towards him, a wicked smirk curling over his mouth, and Minho feels even more confused—his growing headache is not really helping with figuring things out.

“Is sharing clothes your thing now?” he asks.

Minho knits his eyebrows, disoriented.

Junhui, who’s sitting behind him, must notice his soulless expression because he whispers, “Dude, you’re wearing a Slytherin sweatshirt.”

Minho turns towards him just to see another smug grin—as though every single one of his friends know something he doesn’t. But then he glances down at himself and narrows his eyes.

They definitely aren’t lying.

Jisung’s hoodie with a Slytherin crest emblem is right there, comforting his cold, sore body with its warmth—or, rather, the fragrance of his perfume and the smell that’s indescribable, but undeniably Jisung.

“Oh,” slips past his lips, but he turns back to face the front of the class like it’s nothing, Junhui and Changbin erupting into a fit of giggles. Minho tries to focus on Transfiguration, but it’s really hard when he feels feverish and the smell of Jisung’s honey-scented perfume seems to be even more intoxicating than usual.

He manages to get to the Infirmary on his own right after the class ends, though, refusing Changbin’s assurance that he can always go with him.

Professor Kim, who also teaches potions to the first years, gives him a phial of Fever-gone Potion and tells him to eat something good for lunch and he will be alright. Minho bears through the most tiring classes of Ancient Runes and Potions he has ever had in his life and marches into the Great Hall, feeling much better than he did in the morning.

His body keeps shuddering, though, so he keeps arms wrapped tightly around himself. Jisung’s sweatshirt seems to be doing wonders, at least to him, and if Jisung feels the exact same way about Minho’s hoodie that he’s stolen, then it would explain why he still hasn’t given it back.

He sighs with a weak smile and reaches forward to grab something to eat.

With none of his friends (preferably Renjun) in sight, he settles on a small-talk with a Slytherin from his year, Yeeun, who has figured Minho has been feeling sick because she herself has had a fever a few days ago; Minho remembers that because she was absent from Advanced Potions and he worked with Jisung and Jeno then.

She tells him about how her friends have ditched her to study in the library before a quiz they’ll be taking after lunch, and her exaggerations make Minho snicker behind the palm he presses to his lips.

When she finishes her lunch, she sends Minho an apologetic smile and tells him she’s supposed to meet with her girlfriend soon. He shoots his thumbs up to show that he will be fine alone—because he isn’t going to speak with his mouth full of pumpkin cream soup—and proceeds his lunch alone after she leaves.

He can’t help himself.

His eyes drift towards the Slytherin table to find Jisung almost unconsciously, but Minho is taken aback when he finds the boy already staring. Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up, then, and he mouths something that Minho’s hazy mind can’t comprehend. Seeing how confused the Ravenclaw is, Jisung chuckles, a corner of his mouth quirking up, and points his finger to the entrance of the Great Hall.

Minho shrugs but he is already grabbing his bag off the bench, supposing there’s nothing stopping him from walking to his next class now instead of waiting a little longer.

He meets Jisung in the hallway, the Slytherin’s expression instantly shifting when he notices Minho’s tired face up close.

“Don’t tell me you’re sick,” he mumbles.

“Then I won’t.” Jisung deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly annoyed, but Minho can’t help but smirk, beginning to walk up the stairs. “I’ve already taken a potion. I’m feeling alright.”

Jisung seems to be debating internally for a moment whether to believe him or not, looking to the side to glance at Minho without actually saying anything. Minho thinks he might trip and fall and end up in the Hospital Wing if he keeps this up as he himself keeps his eyes fixed on the sight stretching in front of him.

An empty hall.

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” Jisung finally points out.

Minho spares him an intentionally uninterested glance, but, as he sees the certain glint of amusement and mischief lighting up in the chocolate sweetness of Jisung’s eyes, he finds himself getting extremely and unreasonably flustered.

He blames the hotness in his cheeks on the fading fever and hopes Jisung will, too. Fixing the strap of the black bag slung over his shoulder, he boldly says, “Yeah, just like you’ve probably been wearing mine to have sweeter dreams.”

Jisung has the nerve to giggle at him—giggle!—showing off his absolutely adorable heart-shaped smile. Minho breaks his gaze away. Staring at Jisung always has been and always will be a dangerous game.

Minho—as much as he pretends it’s not true—might be a coward, after all.

With his heart pounding loudly in his chest, though, he makes a promise to himself—to be a little more brave.

Especially when it comes to Jisung. 

✦

On a particularly warm Sunday morning, Jisung is surprised to come into the Great Hall and find Minho sitting by the Slytherin table.

“Care to join me for a walk after you eat?” he asks when Jisung sits down next to him.

Nodding without giving it much thought—or, rather, not thinking about it at all—Jisung grabs a cup of milk tea and takes a few huge sips. His tired eyes flicker to Minho.

“You know, we’ve gone on a lot of walks,” he points out.

The chatter around them is quieter than usual, a lot of students long gone to enjoy one of the last sunny days of the year, lazing around on the grounds of the castle, outside. Minho is munching on a chocolate muffin with a delighted expression, making silly noises of happiness after each bite.

Jisung feels a strange urge he isn’t even capable of naming, but—with the last bits of his common sense—he shoves it down, his throat going dry at the ridiculous thoughts swarming his poor, exhausted mind. He coughs, the milk tea travelling to the wrong pipe, and Minho’s gentle hand is already on his back to pat him.

“Alright?” 

Jisung nods, his face feeling hot.

Minho stands up from the bench, then, and brushes the invisible dust off his jeans. “Let’s go, then.”

After leaving the castle and stepping into the Hogwarts’ courtyard, Jisung immediately feels the pleasant and much needed warmth of the sun on his face. Pausing in his tracks, he loses his eyes to savor the feeling for a moment longer. 

Minho chuckles, waiting for him kindly, and maybe Jisung is exaggerating, maybe it’s the sunshine already messing with his head, but it sounds comforting; it makes a smile curl up on his face.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to enjoy the weather where we’re going, too,” Minho says, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

Jisung blinks a few times to get adjusted to the sunlight again, nods, and follows Minho across the castle grounds. All around them, students are lying on blankets or walking by the shore of the lake.

This might be the most peaceful day of the school year, Jisung thinks. It’s soothing how all people need to enjoy themselves is a little sunshine among the darker days. He wants to voice it out to Minho but, as he turns his head to the side to look at him properly, the Forbidden Forest comes into his view.

Mouth hanging open in confusion for a moment too long, Jisung asks, “We’re going into the forest?”

Minho grins, nudging him in the side. “Nothing will attack us, you coward. We’re going to be really close to the castle.”

Jisung scoffs. “I’m not scared but—what if someone sees us? We’ll get in trouble!” Minho really has the nerve to laugh at him—he huffs in annoyance. “You’re supposed to be the responsible one here!”

“I can’t always be a perfect student, Jisung,” Minho says, making it sound like it’s obvious—and it is, but he’s never said it this way, it’s usually Jisung who tells him he doesn’t have to strive for perfection. “I need to have fun, too.”

“How is the Forbidden Forest fun?”

Minho elbows him in the side as they approach the border of the woods. He goes in first, looking back over his shoulder to check if Jisung is following him—and Jisung does consider just running back to the castle.

The path (if it even can be considered one) is not at all fun to follow. Small branches smack him in the face, even though Minho holds them for him so they wouldn’t; Jisung is starting to think that the trees might just hate him, and it’s quite likely considering the fact that since he has only set foot in the woods, all he has done is curse Minho and the whole world under his breath.

He hears the Ravenclaw chuckle and it takes all of Jisung’s strong will and patience to stop himself from kicking Minho in the ass.

At least the path becomes wide enough for them to walk side by side as they walk further into the woods.

It’s much colder here than it was in the castle and Jisung shivers. Minho must think he is just a little coward and  mistakes his shuddering for fear—he casually slips his hand into Jisung’s and squeezes it.

Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up, but the hold feels nice. Too nice for Jisung to break out, too nice for Jisung to say Minho is misunderstanding and Jisung isn’t scared at all—especially with Minho by his side.

The thing about holding hands is that it’s so casual, yet affectionate. It might not even mean anything to Minho, but Jisung feels electricity coursing through his veins, as awfully flustering thoughts get tangled in his mind.

All he can think about is the weight of the Minho’s hand in his, the warmth of their bodies melting together and making Jisung’s cheeks heat up his cheeks and his heart as well; he thinks about how right their fingers feel slotted together—they feel perfect, as though their hands are made for each other, as silly as it sounds even to Jisung, like two opposites drawn together, captured in a strong pull of two magnets.

Minho pulls him forward, shielding from all the malicious trees and keeping him away from the puddles on their path. Jisung sighs, about to ask Minho how much further they have to go, but before he can even open his mouth, a thought breaks through everything else—he thinks that all the suffering he had to endure throughout the walk through the forest is now being rewarded by the sight that emerges before him from the thicket. 

The clearing, illuminated by the November sun, filled with flowers and plants which names Jisung would never be able to point out, makes his knees buckle.

He clutches Minho’s hand for support as Minho only breathes out: “I know.”

Jisung has never even imagined that the Forbidden Forest could be hiding something so captivating all this time. All he had been associating the woods with was darkness, danger, and dirt, but the magic appearing before his own eyes completely derails this train of thought.

Everything looks like straight out of a muggle postcard.

The grass smells as if it has just been mowed, and it takes Jisung a moment to get used to the variety of scents hitting him from every possible direction.

The clearing feels like a completely different world, even more magical than Hogwarts itself.

The flora shouldn’t be this green, this colorful, nothing should be booming with life like this, but somehow it is and manages to blow Jisung’s mind.

Minho doesn'’ let him think about their surroundings for too long—he pulls him straight into the sea of flowers, making him jump with every step, because Jisung adores nature more than anything, and the last thing he wants is to trample any plants.

Still, he laughs out loud, louder than he has in a long time and—even though it’s one of the last moments of November—he feels warm all over. The grass tickles his calves as he and Minho run across the meadow; their happiness would probably look silly to everyone else, but it’s precious to Jisung.

After a short while, they fall to the ground breathlessly, staring up at the bright, blue sky. Minho’s arm lies under Jisung’s head for comfort, serving him as a pillow, and even though it’s probably going to fall asleep soon, Jisung is grateful. 

Jisung is grateful because Minho does those little, seemingly insignificant things to make him feel comfortable; because Minho keeps showing him beautiful places, more magical than anything he has ever seen; because Minho is right there by his side as he discovers the secrets of the world.

These three months they have spent together, simply hanging out and enjoying each other’s presence, have been the most unforgettable ones of Jisung’s life. The best part, though, is that everything—all of it—goes on.

“Thank you,” he says, rolling over onto his right side so he can face Minho. “You’re always taking me to wonderful spots I never knew existed. It’s pretty dumb, but… but all these things make me feel really… special.”

Minho’s gaze, his dark eyes glimmering in the golden sunlight, is nothing short of mesmerizing; Jisung almost breathes a sigh of relief when he sees the familiar flames dancing in Minho’s irises.

They’re close to each other, barely inches away. Just enough for Jisung to smell Minho’s citrus perfume. Just enough for him to reach out and brush Minho’s blue hair away from his forehead. Just enough for him to see a small split on Minho’s bottom lip.

When Jisung looks back up, Minho is looking at him with his head tilted slightly to the side, studying him and taking him in just like Jisung is doing that to him.

“Well,” he starts, “you are special, Jisung.”

Oh.

His words echo in Jisung’s mind for a moment before he truly comprehends them. The dull feeling in the pit of his stomach is strange, unfamiliar, a little bit scary. Words so simple—though admittedly not common when falling off Minho’s lips—cause a storm in his head and make him so, so confused.

“You will always be special to me.”

Jisung feels like he should say something, but his throat is dry, mind is spinning in a whirlwind of thoughts, eyes looking for a sign of dishonesty, something in Minho’s to tell him that it’s just an exaggeration.

He doesn’t find any.

And yet, he remains silent.

He doesn’t know how much time passes before they finally get up, but he doesn’t really care, either. If he had it his way, they would never leave.

As they head towards the castle, pushing through the same tree branches and thickets, jumping over the same puddles and roots, Jisung can’t help but wonder how many times Minho has come here before, how many times he has wandered around the forest to find himself in this meadow for him to know the path so well. 

In the November sun, Minho’s hair draws attention—the color vivid and bright.

“How come the blue hasn’t faded yet?” Jisung asks. “You’ve had it for a while now.”

Minho’s smile—directed solely at him—is somehow warmer than the sun caressing his cheeks. He doesn’t know how long he can handle it without putting a name to the feeling, but Jisung is just so… scared.

“It’s enchanted, Jisung,” Minho says, snapping him out of his thoughts, making it sound like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought your hair was colored by magic, too.”

His finger shoots up to point to Jisung’s freshly dyed ginger locks. As a pureblood, Minho may not be aware of the existence of a Muggle hair dye, Jisung realizes.

It’s pretty strange to him that—despite all these years—most wizards still shy away from Muggles. Jisung assumes that Minho’s family also does, considering how superior to everyone else his mother sounds.

He shrugs, because the eleven years he spent with very little to no magic had him accustomed to the mundane world and straying towards the life methods he’s most familiar with isn’t anything special or new. But he isn’t that little kid anymore—Jisung is building up his life as an adult wizard now. Maybe he should pay that a bit more attention.

After all, all his future plans involve magic because Jisung is magic and it’s not something he wants to ever change.

“By the way,” Minho says, linking their arms, once again bringing Jisung back to the real world and away from the mess of his thoughts—either with his touch, or his voice. “I asked Renjun if we could talk and he said it’s okay if we do it this evening.”

Jisung beams. “Merlin, I’m really glad! I’m sure it’ll go well—It shouldn’t be something you have to worry about.”

He can see the castle in all its glory right now as they step onto the Hogwarts grounds, but—surprisingly—no one seems to pay attention to the two students walking out of the Forbidden Forest. (As glad as he is that they aren’t getting in trouble, maybe the professors should actually take care of students wandering into the woods.)

“Hey,” Jisung starts, a thought occurring in his mind. “This walk was a distraction from you worrying too much, wasn’t it?” Minho offers him a mischievous grin—it’s enough of an answer. “I feel used,” Jisung mumbles, trying his best to sound hurt.

Minho tugs at their linked arms, breathy laughter spilling out of his lips as he pushes the grand front door open. “Don’t act like you didn’t have fun, Jisungie. I did it for both of us!”

Jisung pretends his face is flushed because of the sudden heat coming from inside the castle as they step into the entrance hall. Minho raises an eyebrow, probably expecting a confirmation, but Jisung only sighs in pretend-annoyance, then turns on his heel and walks away.

Already standing on the first top steps leading to the dungeons, Jisung turns around one more time. Minho is still in the same place, staring at him with his eyes piercing as ever.

“I always have fun with you,” Jisung tells him.

✦

Jisung has to assume that the conversation between Minho and Renjun went well when he sees them entering the Great Hall together a few days later. He smiles to himself, relieved upon the sight, and turns back to face his friends. 

Then, though, he does a double take, eyes going wide when the sight settles in his mind. Minho’s blue hair is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a vibrant ginger tone.

They’re matching.

He unconsciously lets out a soft gasp, attracting the stares of his friends, who all follow his gaze. Jeongin is the one to send him a disappointed look, shaking his head, but Jisung knows it’s just an act.

“You’re so smitten and oblivious that, at this point, it just pains me.”

Maybe Jisung is well-aware of his own smitteness, how can Jeongin know?

He shrugs, though, because lately his mind has been too much of a mess to even sit down and figure more things out—complicated things. Who says he can’t deal with all of that later?

Jisung breathes out a sigh, propping his head on his hand, and shifts his gaze to the stained glass windows in the Great Hall. They seem frosty.

This morning, as he has scrambled out from under the warm covers of his bed, his fingertips have tingled with a sort of a cold, piercing feeling—something that woke him right away from the morning frenzy.

As soon as he met up with his friends in the Hogwarts halls, he noticed Jeongin grinning from ear to ear, mumbling something about the first snow he had seen from the Ravenclaw Tower.

Jisung wouldn’t exactly call what lays on the Hogwarts grounds snow —it’s rather a thin layer of fluff that will most likely melt the same afternoon—but it’s a good sight nonetheless.

Snow means holidays and holidays mean seeing his dad after long, long months. He has been thinking about presents for his family and group of friends for the entire year, trying to come up with something great that everyone will enjoy.

He can’t seem to find anything to get Minho, though— right doesn’t seem enough and nothing seems perfect.

Minho has become a big part of his life and getting him something that isn’t special or memorable or specifically made for him seems like the worst idea ever. December is already here and Jisung has to come up with something extraordinary very quickly, since the Hogsmeade trip is actually the last chance for him to buy Minho a present.

“Jisung, we should get going,” says Hyunjin, poking his cheek. He nods and stands up and as he turns to the exit of the Great Hall, his eyes find Minho in the sea of students, as if out of habit.

The (now) ginger-haired Ravenclaw is looking at him, too, just as if he’s been waiting for their stares to meet.

He’s smiling.

“You look pretty,” Jisung mouths, pointing to his own hair, hoping Minho will understand. 

Seems like he does—his smile grows, cheeks tinted a color similar to the color of his hair, but slightly redder. Jisung notices that Renjun is there next to him, eyebrows quirked, staring at Minho—his expression reminds him a lot of his own friends’ when they’re amused, teasing Jisung to death.

Jisung sends the two Ravenclaws a small hand wave, Minho mirroring his gesture much more confidently than Renjun. Jisung is just glad they made up.

✦

Despite the approaching holidays, teachers don’t give students even a second to put their feet up. It seems as if they’re giving them even more homework than usual, only saying that it will do them good in the long run if they keep practicing what they’re learned. (Jisung knows it might be true, but his annoyance apparently knows different and makes him yell internally as professor Jareau gives them an essay to write two weeks before Christmas.)

The only thing keeping him sane with school starting to get decorated in wreaths, mistletoe, and tinsels, is Minho.

They go to the fake beach in the Room of Requirement a few times to escape the cold walls of the castle just for a moment. Jisung also appreciates and loves the fact that all the house elves adore Minho and give them a lot of hot chocolate and freshly-baked pies whenever they come by and they’re not even heading to the Room; sometimes they just hang out in the Kitchens. 

When Jisung tells him about Christmas at the Slytherin common room one evening, Minho seems mildly surprised—at least that’s what his expression says.

“Do you also think Slytherins are heartless and evil?” Jisung jokes, but Minho’s features harden at the words.

“Don’t you even dare to think so. You’re a perfect example of a warm Slytherin and I know more people like—” Minho clears his throat. “Well, not like you, because you’re… you, but I know kind-hearted Slytherins. And, yeah, you might act like a fool sometimes but you’re the least evil person I know.”

Maybe Jisung should feel slightly offended at the notion that Minho doesn’t think he’s capable of being evil, but he doesn’t. For the first time, he confidently snuggles into Minho’s side as they lie on the fluffy carpet of a cozy room the Ravenclaw has imagined for them. His heart feels warmer than ever when Minho slings his arm around his waist to pull him closer, letting Jisung talk more about Slytherin’s holidays.

He tells Minho about how many Slytherins make sacrifices to stay at Hogwarts with other housemates who can’t go home for holidays, about playing muggle board games in front of the fireplace, and getting all the pets together in the common room because they just magically get along. He talks about how they decorate the Christmas tree together, every year choosing a different color in a draw, and how one time they had to make it all black.

(Jisung smiles at the memories, feeling warm all over—he likes the holidays with Slytherins, of course he does, but he might just like Minho’s hand in his hair better.)

Minho doesn’t let him fall asleep this time, though, walking him back to the common room late at night, promising he won’t stay up too late himself—because Jisung knows he will retire to books, even though he should sleep.

“We should hang a mistletoe over the entrance,” he hears as he enters the common room. It’s lit by a fireplace, so Jisung can clearly see the smug and amused expressions of those losers that are facing him.

Jisung rolls his eyes at his friends as he comes closer. Seungmin snickers as it doesn’t slip his attention, and Jisung just really wants to wipe the grin off his face.

“Yeah, you probably would love that to happen. Would you finally get a kiss from Changbin, Minnie? Is that what you want?”

He throws himself over the green armchair, legs swinging over the armrest, the biggest smirk on his face.

Hyunjin’s mouth hangs open. Jeongin bursts into laughter, but it doesn’t take a genius to notice that Seungmin doesn’t look as happy. He huffs, cheeks looking more pink than usual in the light of the fireplace.

If Jisung’s friends can tease him about Minho, he can do that, too.

He doesn’t really know what’s going on between the older Gryffindor and Seungmin, but it’s not nothing new that Changbin likes Seungmin—he isn’t exactly hiding it. Teasing Seungmin, though, is exceptionally funny, since Jisung doesn’t get many chances to do so.

He quickly jogs to their dorm and grabs some sweet jelly beans, extending the whole packet to Seungmin as an offering of peace. The rest of their night is full of giggles, Felix trying to keep them quiet because “everyone is asleep,” and mugs full of tea gone cold.

✦

Jisung wakes up in the morning with his back sore, and thinks that staying up so late and lying in the armchair in a weird position that seemed comfortable then might have not been the best idea, but now it’s too late to complain. (He still will.)

A few days ago, with the next Hogsmeade trip around the corner, during one of the lunches Jisung doesn’t really like attending, Eunji announced that he had to reserve the day of the trip for her —Jisung didn’t even dare to refuse.

When he steps into the common room not too long past ten, he finds her sprawled on the couch, reading. Eunji sighs with relief when she sees him and says, “I thought I’d have to go to your disgusting dorm room to drag you out.”

“It’s not disgusting, you just hate men.”

Eunji quiks one corner of her mouth. “Yes, I do, but your dorm is also gross.”

Deep down—very, very deep down—Jisung knows he’ll be lying if he disagrees, so he just ushers his twin to get up and doesn’t say anything.

The halls of the castle are deserted, so all Jisung can do is pray to Merlin that all students are spending time in warm pubs rather than making crowds in the alleys and Hogsmeade stores. 

It’s cold outside, just one look at the frosty windows can tell, and Jisung is hiding his face in the scarf he has wrapped around his neck the moment he steps out of the common room.

He doesn’t want to get sick right before holidays, he really doesn’t, so, because—in contrary to his twin sister—his immune system is vulnerable to seasonal colds, he has to take precaution.

When they get to the entrance hall, the door is ajar to make it easier for students to leave the castle. It also causes the piercing chill to burst in, making Jisung shiver. There’s a thin layer of snow covering the grounds of the castle, but even with so little of the white fluff, the landscape looks almost astonishing.

Eunji links their arms together, snuggling herself closer. He wants to scold her for dressing so lightly, not bringing a fluffier jacket, and now trying to warm up, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles to himself and lets her wrinkle the fabric of his warm coat.

After all, she’s his sister and, despite being the most annoying little gremlin in the world, she’s also the most important woman in his life.

He snorts at his awfully sappy thoughts—it must be something about the mood of beginning winter; it always makes him a soft fluff ball, even softer than usual.

They reach Hogsmeade moments later. 

Eunji eyes him, clearly noticing the weird little smile on his face, but lets it slip away. Her eyes are sparkling when the snow starts crunching under her feet where there’s more of it in the town. Jisung thinks she might start jumping around any moment, like a little kid, and pulls her forward into the alleys.

“By the way,” she starts, “how are you and your boyfriend doing?”

Jisung pauses mid-step, glaring at her pointedly, but she doesn’t pay it any mind. Actually, the flustered glint to his dangerous gaze only makes her smug grin grow larger.

“Minho is not my boyfriend.” Jisung rolls his eyes. 

She quirks an eyebrow at him, not really convinced. Then, tapping her chin with her gloved pointer finger, she hums. “But he’s the one you thought about when I said boyfriend, huh?”

Jisung’s jaw goes slack. 

He turns on his heel, breaking his arm out of her grip, and strides forward, but he can’t exactly run away from her—it’s just impossible. Eunji is already running after him, laughing out loud as if she doesn’t care about the people around them.

Jisung’s cheeks feel warmer than they should—even in this weather—and he prays to Merlin Eunji won’t notice.

“Yah, don’t get all huffy on me! I’m your sister!”

Jisung scowls. “You’re also pain in the ass, but have you ever heard me complain?”

Eunji smacks him on his arm with her gloved hand and clicks her tongue. “It’s okay that you like him, he’s a decent guy,” she precedes to say, as if Jisung doesn’t know.

He thinks she might say something more, run her mouth and try to get things out of him, but she’s just holding onto him and staring forward with a smile, silent.

They walk around Hogsmeade aimlessly without encountering any people they know, and Jisung honestly hopes not to see Minho. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—oh, how much he wants to see him!—but Eunji might embarrass him by saying some nonsense or she might get… ideas. 

They enter one of the stationery stores when Eunji complains she’s running out of supplies due to the sheer amount of homework. Then, they look around a music store on the other side of the town, where they end up buying nothing, but the assistant gives them warm caramel candies, so they come out happy.

Spending time with Eunji has a positive effect on Jisung’s well-being when she isn’t teasing the life out of him, and when they laugh out loud at some dumb stuff displayed in shop windows, his heart feels light.

“Let’s grab something to drink, okay?” Eunji suggests when the clock tower signals noon.

“Can we drop by Tobias’ Wooden Story first? I have to pick something up.”

He tries to ignore the curious look she sends him.

“Is that something a present?” she asks. “Specifically, is it a present for one particular Ravenclaw?”

Jisung doesn’t answer.

He starts walking ahead, a gentle smile wandering across his mouth, letting Eunji quickly catch up with him, and together they head towards the store with woodwork.

Jisung has learnt about it from Felix, who had received an ornamented box from Tobias’ shop from his parents when he left for Hogwarts at eleven years old. It’s a small box, but the dark wood carvings, full of flowers and goodies that Jisung is unfamiliar with, are stunning.

His mind was focused on thinking about a special gift for Minho these past weeks and, when had been lying in his bed late at night, it finally struck him.

“So, what are you getting him?” Eunji asks, tucking a stray hair strand behind her ear. Jisung can see the snowflakes melting on the faded violet locks, and thinks she looks very pretty—it runs in the family.

“It’s a secret,” he tells her. “I owled dad a few weeks ago to request it for me and I just have to pick it up now.”

“I’m sure it’s very thoughtful. You always give the best gifts.”

Jisung sends her a bashful smile, then opens the door to the store for her when they reach the shop. There’s some guy sitting at the desk, looking not much older than them. As they walk inside, he greets them and asks what he can do to help. Jisung, with nervousness and a pounding heart in his chest, tells him all the information on the order he got from his dad.

“Oh, right!” the man exclaims happily. “Han Jisung, right? Wow, this one is really amazing. My dad was very happy to make it for you.”

Jisung turns to Eunji as the boy disappears into the back room to bring the order. His sister stares curiously, as if trying to find out everything about the gift by reading his mind. Good thing she doesn’t know legilimency, he thinks.

“You can check if everything’s just as you want.”

“It’s okay, I trust your dad’s hands,” Jisung beams.

He watches the boy pack the gift for Minho into a larger, colorful box, then carefully picks it up from him.

After paying, he and Eunji leave the store, and Jisung keeps the package close to him, not wanting to accidentally break it. Eunji whines about wanting to see it all the way to the cozy coffee shop, but he’s adamant; he buys her a big piece of cake and hot chocolate, though, just so she doesn’t complain anymore. Jisung gets a big mug of steaming hot tea for himself, making her eye him suspiciously.

“You love hot choco,” she points out, because it does seem kind of strange that it’s not his drink of choice when he basically lives on it when the colder seasons come. 

Jisung shrugs. He doesn’t dare to say that hot chocolate reminds him of Minho, that he doesn’t even think of taking a sip of it without him. It would be too embarrassing.

That same night, Jisung and Minho meet in the Room of Requirement, without any purpose or plans. It’s not that uncommon for them to do, because friends don’t need a reason to hang out—it’s that simple. And Jisung likes when they’re this spontaneous.

The room they enter has shelves filled with books as walls, huge, brown armchairs standing in the middle, across from a sofa on the other side of a coffee table. He quirks an eyebrow as Minho rests his hand in the small of Jisung’s back to lightly push him towards one of the armchairs as he himself moves away to look around the room in awe. 

His eyes are sparkling, brightly enough for Jisung to notice even when he’s not close. As the Ravenclaw bestows the volumes with the ghost touch of his fingers, Jisung sits down and swings his legs over the armrest, closing his eyes.

Minho’s footsteps get muffled by the dark carpet, but Jisung can hear him getting closer. He sets one of the books on Jisung’s belly, making his eyes flutter open instinctively. 

“Read for me,” he asks gently. “I chose a fairy tale. You like them, right?”

Jisung looks at him, tilting his head back, and wonders how Minho knows. Maybe he’s good at guessing, maybe he listens to people carefully, or maybe he just makes things up and manages to get them right. Or maybe, just maybe, in this short span of time, he has managed to get to know Jisung.

Jisung has no idea, but the mere thought of Minho paying attention has his stomach twisting.

He sighs as Minho plops down on the armchair on the side. His lips are curled in a smile, hands resting under his head, copying the way Jisung is sitting. 

Jisung looks over the cover of a seemingly second-hand copy of The Town Above the Clouds and traces the illustration of the sky with his fingers.

He’s never heard of it before, so, filled with curiosity, he opens the front page and in a calm, low and steady voice begins to read the story of the Great Southern War , about how humans had accidentally discovered the existence of fairies and nymphs in tropical forests and, amazed by their skills, had tried to use them for their own purposes and to enslave them.

When the creatures had begun to oppose them, tired of their magic being used for no good, people tried to kill them; they cut forests, set them on fire, and did their best to get rid of all the magic that hadn’t obeyed them.

Fairies and forest nymphs, furious and wronged, deprived of their home, had called for help from other magical creatures to repay people for the harm done. The war had gone on for years, and it was clear that humans would never win against magic.

Over the years, fairies and nymphs had built their new home high in the clouds, creating a place safe for their magic, away from humans. However, they never stopped caring for the nature that had been destroyed by people on Earth. They tried with all their strength to save the world, and their efforts weren’t in vain—new generations became more and more aware of the issues coming from the exploitation of precious magic.

The fairies could slowly send their magic to the world, to save the flora from destruction.

They never regained full trust in people, who would never be able to understand their magic, though, so, to this day, they have to hide in their town above the clouds.

Jisung frowns as he closes the book. Shifting his gaze to Minho, he says, “This story is sad. I don’t know if fairy tales should be like that.”

“It feels real, though, don’t you think? The fairies are hardly ever seen but their magic is still visible where it’s needed. They’re just hiding too high up in the clouds for anyone to see.” 

Minho’s smile is assuring, comforting, and Jisung feels too much like a kid, invested in fairy tales with his entire soul. But he should be able to be invested, moved, touched by magic—he’s a wizard himself, how could he not be in love with something so precious and dear to him?

Minho must like the kid in him—his gaze is warm when he says, “Don’t worry, Hannie. Fairies are alright now.”

Jisung hums in agreement, lips curling up when he remembers something. “Hyunjin keeps calling Felix a fairy,” he shares. “Maybe he really is one.”

“See?” Minho grins. “He looks like one, actually. Especially with the flower crowns he keeps wearing.”

“Jeongin makes them for him when flowers are blooming,” Jisung says when they both stand up.

He doesn’t really want to leave, to walk through the ice-cold and dark halls of the castle. He wants to stay here—with Minho. But they have school and responsibilities and the curfew. It’s a nightmare.

“You would look really cute with flower crowns, too,” Minho says, nudging him in the side.

“I already look cute,” Jisung declares, rolling his eyes, though the heat on his cheeks tells the entire universe just how those simple words affect him. 

Minho closes the door behind them, letting the magic entrance disappear in front of their eyes.

“You do,” he agrees, and it hits Jisung more than it should.

He doesn’t say anything, hoping no one can hear the screaming mess his thoughts are in the deafening silence of the castle.

It’s not silent when, out of sudden, they hear footsteps. They share terrified looks and before Jisung can even react, Minho is grabbing his hand, locking their fingers and pulling him ahead, breaking into a run.

Despite the footsteps and realizing they might be caught wandering around the castle at night, Jisung feels like laughing out loud.

They run down the flight of stairs and across the hall. Minho, as a Quidditch team captain, is fit but the same can’t be said for Jisung, who is running with burning lungs for the first time in a long time. He’s panting as they reach another flight of stares and debates just rolling down like a ball—it would be much easier.

Minho shoots him a confused look over the shoulder, as if to ask why he’s snorting when they’re running away from a possible detention. Jisung lets go of his hand, slowing down until he’s bending with palms resting on his knees.

“Merlin, just—go,” he breathes heavily.

Minho steps closer and rests his warm hand against Jisung’s back. “You’re insane if you think I’m leaving you here,” the Ravenclaw says, voice stern. “Let’s just rest. I haven’t heard anyone since we went down to the fifth floor, anyway.”

Jisung is leaning back on the cold stone wall, chest rising and falling rapidly. He can see Minho watching him, probably worried about Jisung passing out in front of him. That’s exactly what Jisung feels like—passing out—and Minho staring at him, making sure he’s still alive, is not exactly helping.

He turns his head away, focusing on the dark hall, as if there’s something interesting happening in there.

Jisung wants. He doesn’t really understand it himself, but he wants to get close to Minho again. Just a brush of their hands, sharing warmth as they conspire to get away with their after-hours shenanigans.

Minho looks tired when Jisung sneaks a glance at him.

He almost reaches out too, comes an inch closer towards him, but a sudden loud sneeze from around the corner causes both of them to jump in surprise, moving further away from each other as they do.

They break into a run again but, this time, Minho doesn’t hold his hand. It’s probably the best thing to happen—it would only cause more problems, and Jisung already has no clue what’s going on both in his head, and in his heart.

He tries to keep up with Minho, but his legs feel like giving out when he jumps down a few steps. He clenches his jaw, feeling irritation throbbing in his head as Minho has to stop once again for Jisung to catch up. He doesn’t understand his mind when it comes to Minho.

It’s as if all his thoughts are puzzles, missing one piece and he can’t put them together and make sense of it, no matter how hard he tries. Maybe he likes Minho, maybe he just lacks affection and Minho is always there to give it.

How is he to know this? How is he supposed to tell the difference?

Jisung sighs as they finally reach the entrance hall. They then manage to stop for a moment to rest, and Minho asks again if he’s alright. 

“I am,” he mumbles, but in reality, he isn’t sure.

They start walking into the dungeons then and Jisung realizes that Minho will have to go all the way back to the Ravenclaw Tower and risk being caught past curfew just because he’s walking Jisung to the Slytherin common room.

His stomach feels like it’s doing a double flip.

Derisive laughter erupts in his head and it sounds a lot like Seungmin’s. 

“I’m sorry we almost got caught,” Minho tells him when they reach the entrance. “I shouldn’t have made us stay there for so long.”

Jisung shakes his head and gives him a slight smile—he’s having a hard time talking while his lungs are still on fire. “Be careful on your way back,” he manages to croak out after a moment.

Minho’s gaze is clearly concerned, but he ends up nodding, and slowly begins to walk away towards the stairs without saying anything else.

Jisung utters the password to the common room pathetically only when the familiar silhouette disappears into the darkness.

✦

A few days before the holidays break, Minho joins Jisung and his friends for dinner. It’s late and the Great Hall is nearly deserted, so Jisung is content—not only does he feel more comfortable like this, but the company is also nicer with that one additional person by the table.

The enchanted ceiling this night is more beautiful than ever—the illusion of falling snow against the pitch-dark sky repeatedly attracts his gaze for long moments, and Jisung zones out once or twice, and he has to be kicked back to reality under the table.

Minho is teasing Seungmin about something—Jisung can’t focus on that very well—when a black owl flies in through one of the open windows. The bird gracefully drops the package next to Minho’s plate, then, finally capturing his attention.

Jisung notices how his lips tighten, pressed into a thin line; worry twists his gut.

“It’s from my parents,” Minho announces quietly, more to Jisung than to anyone else at the table, but his expression is enough for everyone to figure out that the letter isn’t any good news.

Seungmin engages the rest in a conversation, clearly as a means of distraction to give Minho some privacy, but Jisung can’t keep his eyes off the Ravenclaw as he takes the parchment out of the envelope. 

‘Minho, 

I have been informed you have got your Astronomy grade up and—though I still think you should have turned it in on time—I’m relieved you fixed your mistake. Though, it’s not why I’m writing.

Your Father and I have been working on Spattergroit cure for years now and we have made a big progress. We have to fly to the States and meet the scientists of the Magical Institute of Health as soon as possible to try out the injections of our potion on suffering patients.

We are leaving early in the morning tomorrow. Thus, we won’t be home for Christmas and possibly for the next few months. The two of us have been talking and we think it’s best if you don’t come home for the holidays.

Use this additional time at Hogwarts to learn more. 

Sincerely, Mother’

The most disappointing part of the whole situation is that Minho doesn’t look surprised in the slightest. He breaks his gaze away from the sheet of paper on the table and scoffs, visible anger gurgling in his veins as he tosses the piece of paper on the table, drawing the eyes of Jisung’s friends towards himself. 

Jisung hasn’t looked away, not even for a second, studying Minho’s expression and trying to feel the situation.

When their eyes meet, there’s no compassion in them. It’s strange, Minho must think, but Jisung already knows that it can’t be anything good when it comes to his parents; still, he doesn’t show the pity Minho fears; instead, anger makes his brown eyes appear darker, deeper, sharper.

“Is everything okay?” Felix asks.

Their heads turn that way, and they see Hyunjin clasping his hand over Felix’s mouth to keep him from talking.

Minho sighs. “No,” he says honestly. “I mean, it’s nothing very serious, but—I was looking forward to going back home and now I can’t.” Then, he presses the back of his hand to his mouth to mumble almost inaudibly, “At least they won’t make me feel like shit any time soon.”

Jisung knits his brows. He heard it.

“Are you saying you’re staying at Hogwarts for holidays?” He scoffs, leaning forward on his elbows against the table, when Minho nods. “What did they say?”

Minho grimaces bitterly. “They’re onto some magical cure that will probably save the world and they would rather have me away from the house since they basically made it over into their own laboratory.”

“Maybe they just don’t want you to feel alone at home,” Hyunjin suggests.

Minho doesn’t mean to glare at him like he does, but he’s beyond angry and disappointed. He instantly feels bad, though, because his problems aren’t Hyunjin’s fault, so he sends a softer, an apologetic look his way and explains, “They’re worried about me breaking something, not me feeling alone.” 

Jisung seems puzzled on the other side of the table, but he definitely shouldn’t—Minho’s issues aren’t his doing, either.

“I want to stay with you but I can’t,” he whines. “Dad is excited about me and Eunji coming back so I can’t really get out.”

Somehow, it still makes Minho feel warm inside—that Jisung is jumping to accompany Minho just because he doesn’t want him to be alone.

“Your family is more important than me, Jisung,” he says, fingertip skimming across the rim of his glass. “I won’t be lonely. There’s always someone staying in the castle. And, besides, it’s my last year here, I can actually enjoy it.”

Jisung bites the inner side of his cheek. “You wouldn’t want to come over to my place, would you?” he asks quietly. “My dad wouldn’t mind. I--”

“Jisung,” Minho starts. “Holidays are for family. It wouldn’t be right for me to barge in--”

“I’m inviting you, though,” Jisung interrupts.

Minho fixes him with a decisive look. “Well, I’m declining.” 

Jisung purses his lips into a firm line, and he isn’t completely convinced, but he lets it go. He doesn’t want to upset Minho or overstep his boundaries, though the mere thought of taking Minho home, to Falkirk, not only crosses his mind, but stays in his head, accompanied by a dark blush staining his cheeks.

That evening, it takes him longer than usual to part ways with Minho.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he tells Jisung as they descend the stairs to the dungeons, clearly noticing his unusual demeanor.  

“How can I not worry when I care about you so much?” he blurts out before he can even think it through. Minho’s lips part in surprise at his honesty. “I mean—! You’re important to me, that’s now news. And the thought of spending holidays away from your family—or at least from your own home—pisses me off. Even though your parents are awful and I actually hate them, it’s not alright.”

Minho takes his cold hand into his own warm one, the touch sending shivers down Jisung’s spine, almost electrifying.

“Hannie,” Minho starts softly.

His eyes glimmer in the moonlight flowing through the window; he’s beautiful. He’s absolutely mesmerizing and, though Jisung has obviously noticed that before, right now, it strikes him unexpectedly and violently—like lightning. His knees feel weak.

“I won’t be bored and I certainly won’t be lonely,” Minho tells him. “And, well—you can always send me letters, if you miss me too much.” 

Minho has the nerve to actually wink at him, that bastard.

Jisung scoffs, ignoring the way his heartbeat picks up in his chest, until he feels his heart crashing against his ribs. “You’ll write to me first,” he tries to tease.

But Minho smiles at him, sincere as ever, and completely seriously, says, “You know that I will.” 

✦

The morning of the departure is hectic.

Students run down the halls with smiles on their faces, glad to finally go home and escape the claws of schoolwork. For Jisung, it’s too noisy in the main halls, so he takes the opportunity to bravely walk to the Ravenclaw Tower just before leaving, using shortcuts to avoid the crowding students.

He has a package in his hands, a box wrapped in colorful ribbons that he got from Felix a few days ago. His hands aren’t trembling as much as he feared, but he can’t shake that stinging feeling of stress in his stomach. 

What if Minho doesn’t like his gift?

It’s ridiculous, and Jisung knows that. He’s sure Minho would never tell him that as not to upset him—at least not to his face—but it’s not that Jisung wouldn’t notice if Minho actually didn’t like it.

And, Merling, Jisung really wants him to like it. 

He lets out a sigh, rubbing the side of his face.

Jeongin is standing in the entryway to the common room, waiting to let him in so Jisung doesn’t have to wait around and beg some Ravenclaw to let him in. They go inside and Jisung is struck with memories of how they snuck into Minho’s dormitory on the first night of the school year, just because Jisung refused to back down from a dare. 

It’s funny how things have turned out.

Nothing here has changed since then, though, and when he gets to Minho’s room, one of his roommates lets him in with no issues, telling Jisung that Minho is taking a shower and he can wait inside.

Jisung doesn’t ask how the roommate knows he has come to see Minho, just thanks him, and takes the chance to drop the gift on Minho’s nightstand, hoping he won’t notice it before the time is due.

He plops down on the edge of Minho’s bed, and doesn’t even have to wait for too long—Minho comes out of the bathroom maybe a minute later, drying his hair with a beige towel. 

His eyes widen when they fall in Jisung. “Good morning,” he greets, but he’s visibly surprised by the uninvited presence.

A thought suddenly crosses Jisung’s mind—Minho’s fiery hair is quite a match for his flaming eyes.

He scrunches his nose in embarrassment, glad Minho can’t actually read his mind.

“Hey,” he greets after a moment too-long. “I was thinking… if you maybe would like to walk me to the station? You don’t have to, of course, but… yeah. I just wanted to see you before I left.” 

Minho looks at him like he’s talking nonsense—Jisung gets up from the bed, pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, a little nervous.

“I mean, I wanted to go to the dungeons and then walk you but since you’re already here…”

Jisung looks at him, well aware that his eyes must be wide as saucers. “My luggage is already on the train, so we can go,” he says, trying to not let surprise melt into the spaces between his words. “Very, very slowly, because I’m in no rush, and if the train accidentally left without me, I wouldn’t cry either.”

Minho laughs at him, probably not realizing just how much Jisung likes it when he smiles, eyes crinkling into crescents. The sight leaves warmth tingling at Jisung’s fingertips—Minho always laughs at his jokes, even though they’re lame and embarrassing, and most of the time not funny at all.

But, hell, if Minho is going to laugh like this every time he tells his stupid little jokes, Jisung will do that every day.

He has to blink himself out of the haze Minho’s smile has cornered him into. This man will—literally—ruin his life one day. Jisung hopes it’s not today; he wants to enjoy the tingling sensation of butterflies taking flight in his stomach for a little longer.

Minho slips into a jacket and slides on his black sneakers, and they leave the dorm.

The Ravenclaw common room is deserted —Jisung’s gut twists when he realizes it might be like that for the rest of the holidays, that Minho might actually be alone. He tries not to show the worry on his face, though, because it’s definitely what Minho thinks, and sends him a small smile. 

Courageously, Jisung takes Minho’s hand into his own, joining their fingers together as they step out of the castle. The softness of his palm makes Jisung not want to let go—ever. 

“None of us is wearing gloves and I think we shouldn’t risk catching a cold right before the holidays,” he mumbles, when he feels Minho’s eyes on himself, burning holes into the side of his face.

Jisung feels like a child all of sudden, because Minho nonchalantly says, “Okay but—just so you know—I wouldn’t mind holding your hand even if that wasn’t the reason.”

Jisung tries to ignore his burning cheeks, Minho’s piercing gaze, and the fact that they’re already approaching the station in Hogsmeade. He would honestly rather ignore the existence of the entire world and just hide in his dormitory—or, in the Room of Requirement with Minho.

Most of the students are already on the train—no one wants to stand in the cold—but Jisung doesn’t care a tiny bit about the weather; not when he and Minho stand facing each other at the station, and the flames in Minho’s eyes warm him up better than any other fire.

“I’m owling you your present on Christmas Eve, just so you know,” Minho tells him, breaking the silence.

The snow is crunching underneath his feet even when he isn’t moving, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Jisung hasn’t even thought about Minho giving him a present, though it was a given that he would give Minho something. The thought of receiving something from Minho again is thrilling.

It’s warm and cozy and Jisung adores it.

“I left yours on your nightstand this morning,” he says, watching a look of surprise flash over Minho’s features. “Just—Just don’t open it before the 25th, okay?”

Minho nods obediently, smiling at Jisung in silence. They stand like that for a few moments—and somehow it’s not embarrassing to do just that—until the snow begins to fall and the frost gets too unbearable.

Minho seems deep in thoughts, though, making Jisung wonder what’s occupying his mind. 

Jisung sighs as the Hogwarts Express horns, telling him it’s time to get on the train. Both he and Minho know what it means, and yet neither of them move.

And then, Minho takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. Jisung’s heartbeat picks up, blood thumping in his ears with deafening volume as his heart leaps to his throat, and he’s scared Minho will hear.

Minho doesn’t hesitate. 

His lips leave an unfamiliar, tingling feeling on Jisung’s cheek where he kisses him; lips as cold as ice, making Jisung shiver.

When his eyes flutter open, Minho is already a few steps away, but despite the growing distance, his flushed ears and cheeks are easy to notice.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he says, turning on his heel and walking away.

Jisung thinks it might be too late for that. 

✦

Jisung quickly finds his friends on the train, huddling in himself as soon as he sits in the compartment. Surprisingly, they’re nice enough to not ask why he is all flushed, but he’s a million percent sure they must notice. 

The journey to London takes pretty long, but after a few heated rounds of Exploding Snap, the train is finally approaching King’s Cross.

Jisung’s dad can’t go to the magic part of the platform since he’s a muggle, but it’s not a problem for Jisung, because he doesn’t leave the train alone. Eunji is already waiting for him as he approaches with Seungmin and Felix on either side.

His dad is standing at the very exit between platforms nine and ten, waiting for his children to step out. As soon as they notice him, Eunji immediately runs his way, and Jisung, seeing his dad’s wide smile, already feels at home.

Seungmin and Felix come over to say hi, because Jisung’s dad really likes all his friends. Felix’s muggle mom quickly appears in the crowd of other people on King’s Cross, so the boy bids his goodbye and promises to owl them, but says that they know how long it might take for a letter to arrive from Australia, and also wishes a happy holiday to Jisung’s family.

“He’s a sweet boy,” Mr. Han says and everyone present hums in agreement, because Felix is just the sweetest boy.

Seungmin starts looking around the platform when someone calls his name. “Oh,” he lets out. “It’s my brother. Looks like he’s picking me up today.”

Jisung shrugs, giving his Slytherin friend a quick hug. Seungmin seems to like the idea of backstabbing him better, because he beams and tells him, loud and clear, “I hope you won’t miss your boyfriend too much. Make sure to owl me sometimes, too!”

Jisung blinks repeatedly as Seungmin leaves hurriedly, and turns to face his dad, who’s looking mildly confused, and his sister, who’s trying to suppress a laugh behind the palm of her hand.

“What was that about?” his dad asks, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing. You know Seungmin—he’s fluent in gibberish,” he says nonchalantly, but it’s hard to pretend when his cheeks feel so warm.

Jisung is starting to believe Seungmin’s only agenda is to make everyone’s life a living hell. 

✦

Minho has stared at and turned the gift from Jisung around in his hands many times over the past nights, wondering what might be inside, but never actually taking a peek, not even for a second, not daring to break the promise he’d made.

Waking up on the 25th of December, still in his pajamas and haze before his eyes, he reaches out to the nightstand by his bed first thing, delicately taking the colorful box into his hands. He stares at it for a long moment, then unties the ribbons, lifts the lid up, and pauses upon seeing a wooden box inside, different from the colorful outer package.

With trembling hands, he takes the wooden casket out and stares at it breathlessly for a long moment, lips parted in silent adoration.

It’s carved; stars arranged in beautiful constellations are scattered across the sky, a full moon to accompany them, a tree branching out into the darker expanse, with flowers sparsely sticking out of blades of grass. Everything fits together, creating a stunning night-time landscape.

It’s art that Minho doesn’t feel worthy of, which is why his heart pounds as he debates whether to open the casket and see what it’s hiding inside. Jisung would want him to open, he tells himself as he breathes out, and then lifts the lid just a little, moving his hands away as the box opens all the way by itself. 

Magic.

A soft sound of music fills his ears, a gentle tune, something like a lullaby. And then, a figurine emerges from inside the casket. Minho blinks, and the doll takes off, flying over the box in circles. That’s when the realization hits him. 

Minho leans closer, eyes wide open, because he needs to make sure he isn’t imagining things.

The figurine is him—there’s no doubt. Magically flying on a broom, with a blue cloak dancing in the non-existent flowing wind, his name in silver letters on the back.

Minho’s heart stutters dangerously.

A music box itself would be the most beautiful gift he has ever received, but a music box personalized for him is much more than just a present. The thoughts Jisung has put into getting it for him, is enough to make his skin feel hot all over, breath catching in his throat as he watches the figurine fly around. 

And maybe, just maybe, it makes him realize that he cherishes Jisung even more than he has originally thought. 

✦

“I haven’t seen an owl like this before,” says Jisung’s dad as Jisung comes to the kitchen on Christmas morning. He gestures to the bird with black feathers sitting on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. An ‘oh,’ slips past Jisung’s lips.

“It’s from my friend, the one who likes Byeol.”

Byeol, as soon as he hears his name, opens one eye and, noticing Jisung, slowly rises from the couch where he’d been napping.

“What's up, sleepyhead?” Jisung mumbles to the cat, scratching him behind the ear.

“Is he the boyfriend?” his dad asks suddenly, probably thinking about what Seungmin said on the platform a few days ago.

Jisung tilts his head to the side, but keeps his eyes on his pet, away from his dad. He doesn’t get a chance to answer (which he is definitely not going to complain about), because Eunji is running down the stairs, making too much noise for a holiday morning.

“The presents!” she exclaims. “Let’s go open the presents!”

Jisung realizes then that Minho’s owl is still in his kitchen, and Byeol is looking at it as if he wants to attack and rip it to shreds. Jisung glares at the cat, then slowly walks over to the bird and carefully holds out his hand to pet it on the head.

While his dad and Eunji are already sitting in the living room, beginning to open their presents, Jisung is still feeding the black owl with the crisps he took out from the cupboard. He coos when the animal starts rubbing its head against his hand.

“You must be really tired, hm? You can rest here. I’m gonna take Byeol with me so he doesn’t eat you.” Chuckling, Jisung picks up the cat from the floor and strokes his fur, walking over to the living room to sit down next to Eunji on the floor with the kitten curling up in his lap.

“The owl brought this one,” his dad tells him, reaching out his hand to point at the neatly packaged box. Both his sister and dad eye him with the exact same expressions of curiosity—it’s almost scary how alike they are.

He reaches for the box and slowly opens it, first taking out a note on colored paper. His lips involuntarily curl up as he reads it, and his grin only widens as he spots a cute, moving ginger cat sticker in the bottom corner of the page.

‘Hannie! You might want to reconsider our friendship as you open this gift, but I hope you won’t. Merry Christmas, give Byeol a kiss from me! (I miss you) (Please give me back my hoodie) (Come back soon)’

So he does as he’s told. He gets confused stares from his family when he chuckles, leaning down to plant a soft peck on the cat’s head, but he doesn’t pay them any attention.

He already knows quite what to expect when he reaches into the box and feels the soft material with his fingertips. He pulls out a black sweatshirt, quite similar to the one he has taken from Minho earlier this year, except that when he turns it over, his name is written on the back. For now, he ignores the fact that it’s got the same number as Minho’s on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

If he doesn’t ignore it, his heart will explode in his chest.

Eunji scoffs when she sees the hoodie in his hands, probably remembering the stunt he pulled on the first day of school. That’s not all, though, because when he reaches to put the box aside, he sees something else inside.

A few books, not too thick, with gilded covers seem to scream for him to finally take them out of the box.

Minho knows that Jisung loves fairy tales, he made it clear during the countless evenings they spent huddled together, just reading, even though Jisung doesn’t really talk about it much. Still, the fact that he thought of gifting Jisung with fairy tales in the most beautiful covers known to the human-kind ignites his heart. Minho listens to him carefully; he pays attention. 

This thought alone is the best gift Jisung has ever received.

His dad whistles when he sees the books and Jisung silently agrees with his reaction.

A Fog of Memories, Nowhere Wizard, The Enchanted Stream and The Lavender Hills are some of the oldest tales known in the Wizardry World. The golden design is mesmerizing, shimmering in the sunlight, and Jisung carefully traces the patterns with his fingers, a little breathless. The books are old, definitely, but look like new copies—it leads him to think they are charmed.

He can feel the magic exuding, coursing through him as he holds them in his hands and he wonders if this is what he is supposed to be feeling or is it just him, and the thought of Minho.

“Whoa, Minho really is crazy,” Eunji says. Jisung can’t exactly disagree with that in many aspects.

The first thing that crosses his mind is the fact that these books are like relics, masterpieces, literal rara avis, something you definitely wouldn’t get upon walking into Flourish and Blotts. They must have cost a fortune; Jisung feels like he doesn’t exactly… deserve them. 

“I’ve been reading to him a lot when we are hanging out,” he explains. “I didn’t think he would come up with… this.”

“He must really like you, Jisung,” his dad tells him and, when he looks up, he sees nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

Jisung hopes it’s true. 

✦

He sends an owl to Minho as soon as his family finishes unpacking the rest of the gifts.

He’s rewritten it seven times—no words fit, conveying exactly what he wanted to say without being too much. “Thank you for making my holidays wonderful,” seemed too simple and “my heart has never been this happy,” a little too baring.

He settles on mentioning how he’ll definitely make sure to read every single book to Minho when they see each other again, asking whether he likes the gift Jisung got for him.

Jisung hates the way his hand quavers when he’s signing his name on the piece of paper.

He doesn’t have to wait long for an answer. Minho’s owl is pecking at the window pane of his room with a letter tied to its leg on the same evening, when Jisung returns to his bedroom after the Christmas dinner.

“Oh no,” he mumbles, letting the bird inside. “How long have you been here, in this cold?”

He strokes its feathers, reaching out to one of the drawers to get a handful of food, then unties the letter and smiles immediately as he begins to read. 

‘Hannie!!! Your gift is now my most prized possession, I swear. I can’t stop looking at it, I’m so amazed. When Eunji said you are the person to give the best gifts, she wasn’t lying. I did my best trying to find something that you would like so I’m glad you do. (I can’t wait to see you very soon.) And, don’t worry about me. I’m not too lonely in the castle and I’ve taken a break from studying, too.

Minho

1. Have you kissed Byeol for me? Please send me a picture!’

His heart beats faster than it should when he finishes reading the note. He imagines Minho staring at the music box with a smile and sparkling eyes; he imagines Minho replaying it over and over, and let out a content sigh.

Maybe Jisung should finally give some thought to what is really going on between them.

Now, he’s quite convinced that he hasn’t reacted in this way to any letter from his other friends. Ever. So, if Minho is becoming more than just a friend to him, things will definitely get complicated.

He lies down on his bed, eyes fixed on the enchanted stars on his ceiling, and lets his mind drift far away.

A small thought that Jisung has been keeping locked away in the deepest confines of his mind for these past weeks and months is now beginning to resurface—he thinks about how lucky he is to have met someone like Minho who fits him so perfectly. 

✦

January comes faster than expected, bringing along the return to Hogwarts.

Jisung says goodbye to his dad once again on the platform (promising he will owl him more often) and enters the train in search of his friends, then spends the journey with them talking about what they had been doing during the winter break.

Hyunjin stayed home in Seoul for the holidays, doing nothing special, just like Jisung. Felix has visited his grandparents in Brisbane and generally caught up with his muggle friends. (“It’s so weird to see them, every single time! I’m at Hogwarts for 10 months of the year, it’s a troment to keep out the magic thing when they’re asking what I’ve been studying at my fancy private school in Britain .”) Jeongin has flown with his family to a tropical island, but that’s something Jisung can’t be envious of.

The snow-white holidays in Falkirk is what he likes the most in the world. The thought of exchanging them for a week in hot weather doesn’t even cross his mind.

Seungmin tells them about how his parents have thrown a party for their pure-blood friends and it was stiff and boring and Seungmin felt glad he’s just a stupid teenager and has equally stupid teenager friends.

Jisung fakes a sob. “I’m ignoring the stupid part but—wow—it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Seungmin proceeds to smack him on the head and stuffs a handful of some muggle candies Felix—which has brought for them from home—into his mouth.

Jisung is quite surprised to see Minho at the Hogsmeade station, face tightly wrapped in a scarf, waiting for him. Behind Jisung’s back, Hyunjin and Jeongin are talking in hushed, conspiratorial whispers, but he can still hear them very well.

“20 galleons that he’ll throw himself into Minho’s arms.”

Hyunjin scoffs. “He’s too much of a coward. Bet.”

And Jisung doesn’t actually do that, but he isn’t quite as big of a coward as they think. So, he comes up to Minho with a grin and hugs him gently, pressing his face into the crook of his neck and muttering a quiet “hey.”

And it’s enough.

✦

A few days later, while Jisung is writing the last few sentences of his potions essay in the library, Minho surprises him by showing up with a broom and his Quidditch sweatshirt on.

“Would you like to go somewhere with me?”

Although hesitantly, Jisung agrees, carelessly shoving all of his supplies in his bag and draping it over his shoulder. He doesn’t expect (but he should have) that somewhere is the Quidditch pitch.

When Minho presents him with his wonderful idea, Jisung almost spins on his heel and walks away. 

“I won’t get on this… thing. No way,” he argues, pointing to the broom Minho is leaning against. His kitten eyes don’t affect Jisung at all (maybe just a little), and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Never in your wildest dreams.”

“Please,” Minho tries again, though Jisung is certain he wouldn’t actually be mad if he still refused. “There’s going to be a beautiful sunset and I‘d like to watch it with you.”

Jisung hesitantly looks the broom up and down.

For him, it’s an unstable machine of destruction, but Minho is the Quidditch captain, flying on a broom at least four times a week, hence he’s confident, though he’d told Jisung before that heights scared him. It’s insane how he’s overcoming his fear. 

“I promise—nothing bad will happen. I won’t let you fall. You can hold onto me tight, okay? We won’t even fly high.”

Minho sees that Jisung is starting to hesitate, so he makes promises—he knows Jisung too well.

He rolls his eyes at the obvious attempts to sway Jisung—like the small pout and the glimmering of his eyes—but Jisung is still not quite convinced; still, it’s the thought that he’ll be able to shamelessly hug Minho that tips the scale.

(It’s too embarrassing; if any of his friends find out, they won’t have let him live.)

He sighs, defeated, and Minho’s face lights up in a smile, as if the sunset is something absolutely incredible—something special that he wants to show Jisung.

It’s endearing and simply cute, and Jisung hides his face in the Slytherin scarf wrapped around his neck to hide his traitorous reddened cheeks. Minho helps him get on the broom and shows him the way he should hold on—arms wrapped around Minho’s waist, fingers of his hands laced together at his belly.

As they rise a little in the air, a gasp uncontrollably leaves his mouth. He holds tighter onto Minho, squeezing his eyes shut, and breathes out through his nose.

The air feels colder even though they’re admittedly not that high up in the air. 

“Jisung, are you alright?” Minho asks, voice soft, turning his head so Jisung hears him better.

“I am,” he mutters, cheek pressed into Minho’s back. He doesn’t feel scared anymore, just slightly nervous, but the initial fear has dissipated, melted away by the trust he puts in Minho.

He doesn’t feel scared.

“Is it okay if we go higher?”

Jisung nods against his back, but that doesn’t mean he’s prepared for Minho to accelerate. He lets out a muffled yelp; Minho immediately rushes out an apology, offering to go down, but Jisung doesn’t want to be a coward anymore.

He slowly flutters his eyes open, taking in a sharp breath.

The sight before his eyes gives him chills. He raises his head, still clinging to Minho, and looks around, trying hard not to look down. Minho turns a little to face him, a stunning smile on his lips, and—

Jisung is fifty feet off the ground when he realizes he’s in love with Minho.

Minho is right there, under the setting sun, face colored in pinks and oranges and Jisung is holding him in his arms, the most precious part of his life. For a moment, his mind goes blank, thoughts evaporating, and he’s just hanging in the middle of the air, clinging to the person he’s in love with—someone he’s been in love with for a while now, he realizes.

Jisung doesn’t pay any mind to the piercingly cold wind, the uncomfortable broom he’s sitting on, or the uneasiness he felt a moment ago. He locks eyes with Minho and everything feels different.

Jisung closes his eyes, but now it’s not because of fear—bliss takes over his features, content warmth spreading through his whole body. 

Things that he couldn’t understand before, now make perfect sense, and Jisung wonders how could he possibly miss this overwhelming feeling or mistake it for something else.

But that’s okay, because Minho is there, smiling at him and showing him another beautiful place, something made just for the two of them.

Jisung likes being able to put a name to the whirlwind of emotions he feels for Minho.

✦

They are in the middle of having breakfast together a few days later when Chan practically dashes to the seat next to them. Jisung shoots him a confused glance, but the elder Slytherin seems too excited to even pay him any attention.

“Have you heard? Representatives of the top 5 of the league are coming to Hogwarts for the next few weeks to scout new players!” he whisper-shouts and Jisung assumes it still must be a secret to most of the student body.

A smile creeps onto his face and he, too, grows excited at the news, turning to Minho to see his reaction with his own two eyes, knowing just how happy he must be.

But Minho’s hand holding a mug is frozen mid-air, expression blank. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, and sets the mug down on the table. It’s a moment of silence before he finally turns to Chan.

“That’s super cool,” he says, voice void of any emotion. “I’m sure they’ll be fighting for you. I should probably start congratulating you already.”

Jisung has never heard his voice this soulless.

Chan frowns. “What?” he croaks out. “No, Minho. I’m telling you this, because they’ll definitely want you, I just want you to—” 

“I’m not going to play Quidditch.”

Jisung inhales sharply as Minho smiles apologetically—bitterly—and stands up, walking away. He doesn’t care that the first lesson is about to begin—he breaks into a jog after Minho, leaving a puzzled Chan behind. 

Minho is already ascending the stairs when Jisung finally manages to catch up and gently grabs his wrist to stop him.

“What was that about?” he asks, frowning.

The fake smile on Minho’s face makes Jisung feel dizzy. He takes a step back, grabbing the stone railing for stability.

“Did you forget?” Minho laughs humorlessly. “My parents said Quidditch is not something they support. I—I can’t.”

“Who cares about them?” Jisung argues. “It’s something you love. You shouldn’t give it up just because they’re—”

Minho cocks his head to the side when Jisung bites his lower lip to stop himself from outrightly insulting Minho’s parents, and exhales, looking away with a grimace. “Look—I understand you may have your head in that fairytale world of yours, but real life doesn’t work like that. Not everyone can just choose a profession and work in it, like you can.”

Jisung isn’t hurt.

(That much.)

He’s mad, because Minho is throwing away a big opportunity. He’s mad, because Minho knows just how hard he has been struggling with picking something to pursue in his life and he still decided to make a comment about it right into Jisung’s face. He’s mad, because Minho doesn’t have the right to assume everything is easy for Jisung, just because his dad isn’t forcing him into any profession.

“Your parents are not here to boss you around,” he says through gritted teeth. “If you’re wasting away something that may make you happy just because they’re trying to control you from thousands of miles away, you’re just a fool. And I’m disappointed.”

Jisung turns on his heel and rushes down the stairs without looking back.

He can hear Minho curse under his breath, but decides to ignore him for his own sake, hoping that the stupid pang in his chest will go away if he doesn’t look into Minho’s face. 

Jisung walks so quickly that he’s almost jogging, but he doesn’t want to stay in close vicinity to Minho for any second longer; he heads straight to the dungeons. 

He may angrily pretend he doesn’t care about Minho’s future all he wants, but that will never be true. He wishes he could do something, anything to convince his parents to give Minho a chance to try something other than following in their footsteps, but he knows he can’t.

Minho is gifted in many fields and alchemy is certainly one of them, but that’s clearly not what he wants to devote his life to—at least not the only thing he wants to devote his life to. He’s never said it aloud, but he doesn’t have to—Jisung can see how much playing Quidditch means to him.

When Jisung leaves the room after the two-hour long class of Potions, he unconsciously comes to a halt upon noticing Minho leaning against the wall, staring at the door of the classroom.

He sends Jisung a weak smile, but it’s strained and his face seems even more tired up close than it did in the morning. 

“I’m sorry for saying that about you,” Minho says first thing when Jisung approaches him, not really wanting to drag it all out. “It wasn’t okay—our situations are different, and I have no right to say that it’s easy for you, because I know it’s not. And it was just a crap thing to say, and it’s not what I really think. So, I’m sorry.”

Jisung sighs. “I’m not angry,” he says, earning himself a disbelieving look from Minho. “Well, maybe just a little, but not with you. With you only because of what you said.”

“So… are you accepting my apology?” Minho asks, fixing the strap of his tote bag over his shoulder, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. 

Jisung can’t be angry with him. 

“Yeah,” he says softly, watching as a tentative smile blooms on Minho’s face; he looks much prettier like this, definitely more beautifully than when he’s scowling. “But since I can’t get you to promise me to say that again, ‘cause people say stupid shit in anger, just promise you’ll think about what I said. Please.”

Minho doesn’t look completely satisfied, but he ends up nodding. “I promise,” he says, sticking out his pinky for Jisung to link his own.

They don’t let go after that, beginning to walk through the hallway, just that breakable link tying them together, almost like a string of fate.  

Jisung finds it’s enough for him to hold onto—enough to satisfy his need to have Minho close; this need has always been there, apparently, but it’s only now that he can actually name the feeling.

Love—in the purest form, at that. 

“What are you thinking about?” Minho asks, but he doesn’t seem surprised to find Jisung with his head high up in the clouds.

“You,” Jisung tells him, and, Merlin, Minho doesn’t know just how truthful he’s being.

✦

Minho seems more tense than usual on the day of the Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff game.

His team doesn’t seem to notice it, probably sweeping it under the rug and labelling it as nervousness, but they’re not Jisung. So, since no one else notices and just because he cares, Jisung makes sure Minho eats an actual breakfast and not just drinks a cup of tea before he flies up into the air on his broom.

The strangers on the stands, sitting with headmaster Bae and the rest of the teachers don’t come unnoticed. Their presence causes whispers and all students wonder who they are.

“You know something,” Seungmin points out, not even bothering to make it sound like a question. 

Jisung just shrugs, eyes focused on the pitch where the players in blue and yellow uniforms are already standing.

He can easily spot Minho, ginger hair blown by the wind. There’s an uneasy feeling in his gut, a seed of anxiety that grows with time, but he shakes it off—he shouldn’t worry so much, there’s no reason and time for that.

The game is—as always—dynamic and Jisung doesn’t really know where to look, though his eyes naturally keep straying towards the familiar splash of orange over the blue sky.

Hufflepuff manages to quickly take the lead, but the Ravenclaws only get fiercer, hitting with double power. Jisung can’t help but glance toward agents of the league’s Quidditch teams, who are closely watching the players without as much as saying a word to anyone, not even one another.

Jisung hopes each of them sees how talented Minho is.

The game goes on for long hours, and yet Jisung doesn’t want to look away even for a second, scared to miss something important.

The beaters keep sending the bludgers flying with pings. Despite the distance, Jisung feels anxious, as if the ball will fly straight into his face any moment. They should really cast a spell over the stands so it doesn’t happen. 

Ravenclaw is leading by forty points now, but neither player is smiling. Chaeyoung, their seeker, is flying in circles high above the pitch looking for any trace of the Golden Snitch, but in vain. She tried to trick the Hufflepuff’s seeker into following her to nowhere, but after a few times, she no longer succeeds.

Seungmin is saying something, but with everyone cheering, Jisung can’t really hear anything, so he leans in closer, asking for repetition.

And then—

A loud yelp cuts through the air and suddenly, like it’s magic, everyone goes silent.

Someone is letting out a bloody scream when Jisung whips around to face the pitch again. It takes him a moment too long to realize who’s falling, but his mind goes blank when it finally catches up with the sight—when he notices the ginger hair, blown away by the wind.

Before he can even register his own movements, he breaks his arm out of Seungmin’s tight hold and springs out of his seat, sprinting down the wooden steps and pushing through the curious students.

He trips over his feet and accidentally pushes someone a little too forcefully, but he can’t bring himself to care when Minho is fucking falling off his broom.

Minho will be fine. He will be alright.

Jisung is scared to look up in the air, but the grass beneath his feet only serves to make him feel sick as he runs and runs.

“I got him!” he hears suddenly—words breaking through the noise and commotion and the neverending yelp echoing in Jisung’s head. His legs give out, just as professor Pearson levitates Minho down onto the green pitch.

Safe.

Injured, unconscious, but safe.

It’s a momentary relief, because Jisung falls down onto his knees next to Minho, not even caring about the pain that jolts through his joints, and Minho’s face, twisted in pain, is simply terrifying—paired with the scream, Jisung is sure that’s what he’ll be seeing in his nightmares. His heart sinks down to his stomach, a hollow ache in his chest.

“His arm is broken, pretty badly,” someone says, voice rushed, resembling professor Kim, but Jisung isn’t quite sure. “He fainted out of shock, the pain must’ve been terrible.”

Someone’s arms slip under Jisung’s own, and they’re hauling Jisung up, keeping him steady as his legs wobble and bend. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Seungmin somehow appears in front of him, cupping his face and wiping the tears off with his thumbs, as some other arms keep him upright.

“Jisung,” Seungmin addresses him, loudly, trying to break through the wall built over the rational part of his brain.

Jisung wants to speak, he wants to see Minho, he wants to ask if he’s okay and if he’s going to be okay, but his throat is sore and tight and he can’t bring himself to voice anything out. The grip on his waist tightens and he turns to the side and sees one of Minho’s teammates—Wonwoo; it must be a good thing that Jisung recognizes his face, that he can see it past the blur of his eyes.

“Jisung,” Seungmin tries again, keeping a grip on his chin so his friend is looking at him. “I promise, I swear to Merlin—he’ll be alright. It’s just a broken arm, they’re taking him to the Infirmary now. I know it’s a shock, but you have to calm down.”

Jisung lets out a strangled whimper, leaping forward and throwing himself into Seungmin’s arms, making him stumble back. 

There’s another hand on Jisung’s back, but he doesn’t have the energy to check who it is. And then— “Hey, buddy, I’m sure you can go see Minho in a moment, they just need to give him a check up,” they say.

Jisung now knows that it’s actually Wonwoo. He nods into Seungmin’s shoulder.

“Are you gonna be alright?” He seems to be directing the question at Seungmin. Then, when Jisung is blinking his eyes open again, Wonwoo is in front of him, walking away to the rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, who are huddled close together, talking animatedly.

Seungmin tightens the hold around him, fingers running through the hair on the back of Jisung’s head. Jisung doesn’t realize Jeongin, Felix, and Hyunjin join them until they’re all leading him back to the castle. His vision is getting clearer, but mind still feels a little hazy.

Jisung’s friends help him reach the Hospital Wing and then sit down with him on the bench by the entrance, whispering among themselves—or to him, but he can’t really comprehend what they’re saying. 

Then, Felix crouches down in front of him, placing his hands on Jisung’s knees. “We can’t go in yet, we have to wait,” he tells him quietly, voice soothing. “We can use this time to calm down, okay? I know it was a great shock, but you have to understand that he didn’t even fall down. He was hit by a bludger and it knocked him off his broom, but professor Pearson casted a spell that suspended him in the air.”

Hyunjin joins in from where he’s sitting pressed against Jisung’s side. “There’s absolutely nothing to be worried about, though no one blames you for freaking out. My heart almost jumped out of my chest.”

“He’ll be fine?” Jisung finally croaks out, voice hoarse and tired; his friends don’t seem to mind. 

“Perfectly fine,” Felix tells him and, with his reassuring smile, Jisung feels that tiny little bit better.

After a long hour of waiting, Professor Kim finally steps out of the Infirmary and lets Jisung in, though not without offering him a check-up first.

“I’m alright,” Jisung says, sniffling. “I just want to see him.”

The Hospital Wing is scary.

The whiteness of every wall, floor, furniture, bedding makes him feel dizzy, but he bravely takes a deep breath and keeps walking through the room.

The bed Minho is lying on is behind a room-dividing screen, in the back of the room, and Jisung’s heart sinks when he sees him so pale, the color of his skin drained, and he looks similar to the ghosts floating around the castle. 

Jisung reckons it is only temporary, though he has to keep reminding himself of that fact.

Eventually, he sits down on a stool next to the bed and watches Minho breathe steadily; the sight of his chest rising and falling is what helps him calm down and completely come back to his senses.

He’s scared to touch Minho so as not to accidentally cause him any harm, but his hand reaches out unconsciously and settles on the Ravenclaw’s thigh, rubbing it softly over the comforter. He would spend the rest of the evening there, watching over Minho, but he can’t—after a short while, professor Kim orders him to go, saying that Minho and he, too, must rest.

He doesn’t want to leave Minho’s side but the healer threatens to call the headmistress on him. Jisung is grateful that—at least—the man pretends to be busy with papers as he kisses Minho on the forehead and leaves. 

His friends are still waiting by the door to the Hospital Wing, but when Jisung steps into the hall, Renjun is already by his side, showering him with questions. Jisung himself is confused and he would rather not think about what happened, but he does his best to answer.

“I swear, I don’t know what happened today. He’s always so attentive and careful— especially during the games,” Renjun mumbles, running a hand through his brown hair.

It isn’t his place to tell anyone about the Quidditch teams’ agents scouting at Hogwarts, even if it’s Minho’s friend, so he keeps his mouth shut, his mind only focused on one thing—hoping Minho will wake up soon. 

✦

Naturally, the first thing Jisung wants to do after waking up the next morning is to run to the Hospital Wing to see how Minho is doing. Seungmin, however, only glares at him pointedly, and then—ignoring his whines and pleas—grabs him and forcefully leads to their Defense class.

Jisung is sulky for the entire lesson, so Felix sneakily hands him squares of chocolate under the table, hoping it will cheer him up—at least a litt.

He feels better only when Hyunjin arrives for lunch, though, a little late. He tells Jisung that he had just been stopped by Professor Kim, who told him to inform Jisung that he can now visit Minho, but only for a while.

“Has he woken up?” Jisung snaps, standing up in a hurry.

“I don’t really know, but he was just out because of the meds—they should have worn off by now.” 

Jisung quickly thanks him, then runs through the Great Hall to the Hospital Wing, without looking behind. Before entering, he pauses for a moment to catch his breath and brush the invisible dust off his pants, though he doesn’t think anyone could blame him for not looking the best. 

Not wanting to disturb others who may be inside, he silently pushes the door open, and scans the room with his eyes upon taking a step inside. His heart just about stops when he sees Minho—propped up on his elbow, smiling as he stares at Jisung; like he’s been waiting.

“Oh, Merlin,” Jisung breathes out, rushing to Minho’s bed. He wants to give him a hug, tighter than any he’s ever given, but he’s afraid he could hurt him. He can’t even get his voice out to say something.

“Hello,” Minho greets, patting his bed, gesturing for Jisung to sit down on the edge.

Jisung juts his lower lip out in a pout, eyebrows knitted together. “How are you feeling?”

“Numb?” Minho answers hesitantly. “I woke up not so long ago and all I can feel is my head—just… throbbing.”

It’s nothing grave—a headache is better than a lot of injuries Jisung can think of—but Jisung’s expression sours and Minho doesn’t miss it. He takes Jisung’s hand into his own, rubbing his knuckles with his thumb.

“Jisung, I’m fine,” he assures. “I’ve already had Skele-Gro for my arm. You don’t have to worry. They’ll let me out in a few days.”

How is Jisung to distrust him when Minho’s voice is so soft, so gentle when he speaks to Jisung?

It feels like he has to be a veela, at least partly; he’s beautiful—gorgeous—but just as dangerous; and yet—Jisung would happily put his heart in Minho’s hands. It’s a strange thought, a strange situation, when Jisung has finally come to terms with his feelings.

It’s an ever-burning sensation in his chest, thoughts in his head always finding their way back to Minho, heart picking up the pace when he looks at him, lips curling up at his dumb jokes no matter how hard he’s trying to suppress a smile.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Minho asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Jisung chuckles. He really wants to tell him. But this is not the time, nor the place. “Because I can.”

Minho huffs in annoyance, but he looks adorable, still—like an angry cat.

Jisung plans to stay next to him for the rest of the day, a fib about being free from classes on the tip of his tongue, but Minho is alert. He squints his eyes, then watches him closely to read the slightest lie on his face.

Jisung has always been a bad liar; it’s even worse when he has to lie to Minho. It’s impossible. 

“Don’t you have Runes now?”

Jisung doesn’t even ask why Minho knows his schedule, just twists his face into a pleading pout, trying to play with his emotions. “I wanna stay with you,” he whines.

Minho, apparently, can’t be swayed.

“You can’t miss class just because I’m here. As soon as it ends, though, you can come here and stay as long as you want.”

Jisung scoffs. “Kim will never let me stay late.”

“I promise I’ll beg him to let you stay. But you have to go,” Minho laughs. “Study well! For me and for yourself.”

Jisung can’t argue with him when Minho is so charming, which is why, reluctantly, he gets up from the snow-white bed and leaves the Hospital Wing, waving goodbye to Minho before stepping out of the room. 

He’s being dramatic, acting as if he will never see Minho again, but Jisung is worried, and he wants to stay by Minho’s side. He can’t help it.

The next days pass by similarly—Jisung alternates between classes, the Infirmary, his dorm, and the Great Hall. Minho helps him scribble some of his essays, getting him better grades, and Jisung must admit his assignments have never been written better.

Even his own friends visit Minho a few times and bring him a lot of sweets. (Minho tells him in secret that he doesn’t really eat candies because of his training, but he’s really grateful Jisung’s friends have thought about him.)

It’s late at night and Jisung should be sleeping in between his own sheets in the Slytherin dorms, but he’s lying with Minho instead, sprawled on the stiff bed, staring at the ceiling. The sky is particularly dark that night, as if someone took a paintbrush and coated the entire sky with a thick, black paint. It looks majestic through the windows; Jisung wishes to go out with Minho and lie on the grass, cuddled up, staring into the stars, naming constellations, even though neither of them have much knowledge in astronomy.

Minho shifts suddenly and throws his leg over Jisung’s hip, trying to pull him closer. There’s a smile, a delicate one, lingering on his lips, softening his sharp features. His eyes seem to glow in the moonlight—they reflect something Jisung is unfamiliar with as Minho sweeps them over his face, taking a moment to speak.

It’s the first moment in a long time that Jisung feels truly calm. No confusion, no throbbing heart, no nervousness. Everything feels at peace.

“Jisung,” Minho finally mumbles—there’s no one here with them but he’s whispering. These words are just for Jisung—for his ears only. “I’m so glad I have you.”

✦

For the first time since Minho’s accident, Jisung is spending the entire lunch break in the Great Hall. He chats with his friends, laughing out loud at their dumb jokes. Hyunjin is talking about something funny that happened in their Muggle Studies class a few periods ago, but Jisung can’t really focus.

His stare unconsciously wanders to where Minho usually sits, even though he knows the Ravenclaw isn’t there. He isn’t, but Renjun is.

The other Ravenclaw straightens slightly when he notices Jisung staring at him and they share tentative smiles. After all, it’s them who spend the most time by Minho’s side in the Infirmary and it’s them that deal with him out of the Hospital Wing; a bond of tolerance for each other’s presence and maybe a strange kind of friendship has formed between them.

Renjun smiles back at him, bright, and Jisung wonders why he hasn’t befriended Renjun sooner, when they share classes and see each other often. 

✦

After a two-hour block of Defense classes, Jisung is exhausted. With what remains of his energy, he makes his way to the Hospital Wing, thanking Merlin he only has one more lesson left that day, later in the afternoon.

And then, he can come back here and spend more time with Minho, doing absolutely nothing. Jisung usually loves doing nothing, but somehow it feels even better to laze around when Minho is around. 

When he enters the room, it’s extremely quiet inside. He slowly walks over to Minho’s bed—hidden behind a dividing screen again—and hesitantly pulls away the curtain when he hears the heavy breathing coming from behind it.

Minho looks up to stare at him, hands bunched up in the comforter. His expressionless eyes and the way his lips are pressed into a thin line make Jisung afraid to speak up.

He eyes the surroundings cautiously, not wanting to ask what’s wrong just yet, and notices the piece of parchment thrown onto the floor. He inhales sharply, somehow knowing well what it means.

“Don’t read it,” Minho says bitterly. “You’ll change your mind about me after what they said.”

Jisung doesn’t believe him, but it’s not like he can tell Minho that there’s just about nothing that could shatter his perception of Minho. Still, it would be disrespectful to read the letter without his consent, so he just picks it up from the floor and throws it into the trash can. 

Minho snorts a laugh, but it’s humorless, and when Jisung sits down on the stool next to his bed, he doesn’t even spare him a glance, eyes downcast, fixed on the duvet.

“They’re right, though,” he says after a moment. “If I didn’t play Quidditch, I wouldn’t be lying here now, wasting away the days. I could study properly, and get a real job, and—” 

Jisung blinks at him, confused. He has a hard time coming up with something to say, but when he finally does, Minho doesn’t even react.

“What are you even saying? You were injured, Min-ah. It was an accident, and something like this could happen even if you were—I don’t know. If you were brewing a potion. Something could happen. It’s not something you can avoid.” Jisung rests his hand on Minho’s thigh, rubbing it over the duvet. “It’s okay to take a break.”

The look Minho sends him has Jisung retracting his touch and straightening up.

“I can’t take a break,” he splutters. “There’s a thousand wizards ready to take my spot at Mungo’s. If I don’t get in, I’m basically—I’m worthless. And all the effort I’ve put in is down the drain.” 

Jisung is absolutely terrified.

He opens his mouth to say something, to tell him that what he’s saying is total bullshit, but no words come out. He knows Minho is under pressure to be the perfect child that his parents will be proud of, so they finally pay attention, but he can’t understand it, no matter how hard he tries. 

“Being a Healer might work for a while, because your parents will finally see how great you are, but—but pushing everything aside just to please them isn’t right,” he says, voice catching on a tremble in his throat. “You love Quidditch, Minho. I can see that you do and I can see the effort you put into it, so you can’t tell me you’re just going to let them—”

Minho clenches his jaw. “Don’t you want me to succeed?”

Jisung blinks, taken aback. “Of course I—”

“And—And all the things you’re saying—Why do you act like you know me?”

The silence is deafening as the words fall from Minho’s mouth.

Jisung’s heart crashes painfully against his ribs with every beat of the silence as regret flashes over Minho’s features. He tears his gaze away from Minho’s face, hands clenching into fists by his sides as he stands up.

Minho tries to grab his wrist, but Jisung only shakes his grip off. “Hannie, I’m sorry—”

“Maybe you’re right,” Jisung interrupts him, voice devoid of emotions. “Maybe, as you insist, I don’t know you at all, since—apparently—all the time we’ve spent together means nothing. But don’t you even dare say that I don’t want you to succeed because that’s just—that’s just pure bullshit.” He swallows. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

Minho calls out to him as walks away, but neither does he run after him, nor does Jisung stop. He opens the door with a flourish, pulling the person holding the handle on the other side forward.

“Oh,” Renjun lets out, straightening up. Jisung walks past him, body buzzing with anger.

He turns around one last time and speaks up loudly enough for Minho to hear him, too.

“Tell him to stop acting like a kid,” he says bitterly. “Maybe you’ll get through his skull—Maybe you actually know him, though maybe he thinks your friendship is worthless, too. Better get that right before you waste any more time on worrying about him.”

He knows it’s just the anger speaking, but he can’t stop himself. This time, Jisung is simply hurt.

Then, not caring about what Renjun has to say, he turns on his heel and walks away. And if he misses his last class of the day, burying himself beneath his duvet with an ugly feeling burning in his gut, it’s on him. 

✦

Jisung experiences the stubbornness of Ravenclaws first-hand when Renjun gives him no moment to breathe, urging him to talk things out with Minho every chance he gets.

After spending days and nights overthinking, the anger has practically left him. Still, a twinge in his stomach accompanies Jisung every time Minho is mentioned, and he can’t enjoy hot chocolate the same. 

The anger might’ve dissipated, but the hurt lingers. 

It’s not even about Jisung’s romantic feelings towards Minho; they’re friends above anything else—two people that match well. Jisung hasn’t ever felt more betrayed than when Minho basically told him all those moments they shared meant nothing.

He’s trying to be a little understanding—he knows Minho is always on the verge when his parents reach out to him—but nothing seems to justify what he said. And Jisung might have a Minho-shaped soft spot, but he’s annoyed and has the right to feel hurt all he wants, thank you very much.

(“He doesn’t deserve any of the candies we gave him,” Felix tells him one evening with his fingers running through Jisung’s hair. “What a jerk.”)

“I’m going back to the dorms,” Jisung says after dinner on the last Sunday of January, stomach full and content after an exhausting day.

“Do you want to meet up later and drink something?” Hyunjin asks.

Jisung only sends him an apologetic smile, but his eyes roll uncontrollably as soon as he turns around; maybe Minho said something stupid that hurt him, but that doesn’t mean Jisung will keep moping around or need a permanent babysitter.

Kyehoon is reading something, sprawled on his bed in their shared dormitory when Jisung steps inside. He raises his hand to wave upon noticing him, and Jisung offers a small smile in return; it’s not that genuine, though.

Crawling into his own bed, he sighs and reaches out to the nightstand to grab one of the books out of the pile. He seriously needs to return them to the library, but he doesn’t really feel like carrying them all the way down the stairs.

The one he opens turns out to be pretty interesting, full of short real-life stories about Curse-Breakers. His eyelids feel heavy, though, and it’s hard to concentrate, so he ends up reading the same pages over and over again to finally make sense of them.

“Jisung, someone’s here to see you,” he hears Kyehoon’s voice, breaking through the mess in his head as he knocks on the post of Jisung’s bed.

He blinks himself back to reality when he looks up and sees a timid-looking Minho by the open door, thinking it’s just his imagination—that it’s just some random friend of his coming by to borrow his notes, because it can’t be Minho. 

But it’s Minho—it’s definitely Minho.

Jisung’s body reacts before his mind catches up—he swings his legs over the edge of his bed, jumping off and straightening the front of his black t-shirt, and strides towards the door, where it’s unmistakably Minho standing, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

Jisung’s heart is thumping loudly in his chest when he speaks up. “I thought you’d still be in the Infirmary,” he says instead of a greeting.

Minho clears his throat. “It’s been almost a week, so… professor Kim said my arm looked excellent , and let me go.”

Jisung lets out an aha, trying to seem indifferent, even though he’s more than relieved that Minho is doing okay after that nightmare of a fall; Jisung is glad he doesn’t have to spend any more time in that sickening white room. And waste them all away on not-studying, or something, Jisung’s bitter mind supplies.

In the span of these months, air has never been this tense with awkwardness before. And, as they stand in the doorway of his dormitory like that without saying a thing and avoiding each other’s eyes, Jisung begins to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Minho had been right. 

Maybe they don’t know each other well, and they’re not above stupid fights and hurtful words spit out in anger, even if Jisung would like to think that their connection could make them immune to squabbles and misunderstandings. They’re not used to solving issues like these, but it doesn’t mean that they can’t find a way to communicate. 

“Why are you here?” Jisung asks; if Minho can’t tell him outright what he wants, Jisung would honestly rather go back to bed. 

Minho blinks at him repeatedly; Jisung hates himself for finding this habit cute—for knowing that it means Minho is focusing on finding the right thing to say.

“Do you have a moment so we can… go somewhere and talk?” he asks eventually, and Jisung shrugs, keeping his disinterested mask up, but he’s already closing the door and leading Minho out of the Slytherin common room, anyway.

The soft spot he holds for Minho is making him act in contradictory ways with the hurt lingering in his chest. Jisung just wants Minho to be sure—he wants Minho to apologize, because he foolishly can’t believe all those days and nights meant nothing. 

As they step out of the common room, they still don’t talk. Jisung busies himself with wondering if Minho had to wait long for someone to let him inside and who was the person who helped him get in. He doesn’t ask, though. He wants Minho to put in a little more effort.

At this time of year, dungeons are especially colder than the dorms and, as much as he’s trying to suppress it, Jisung finds himself shivering.

He can’t tell if he’s happy or embarrassed by the cheesiness of how Minho notices. He grabs the hem of his hoodie to take it off seemingly without thinking—that’s their thing, that’s what Jisung’s friends say and that’s what Minho’s friends joked about; Minho told him himself. 

“I’ll be fine,” Minho says, pushing the sweatshirt into Jisung’s reluctant arms.

The material is soft and smells like him—of fresh oranges—when Jisung pulls it over his head; it’s familiar, reminding him of those cold evenings they spent huddled close together under the same blanket, reading through the pages of one of the books Minho brought from the library, and how the smell of citruses was so prominent that Jisung can’t help but think of him whenever he smells or sees oranges.

He tries to shake it off—he tries not to think about all the things that make Minho feel like home to Jisung; it’s unwanted now.

He doesn’t know why their legs lead them up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, steps dragging, but he’s not going to complain—it offers the seclusion and privacy they need; or, at least Jisung needs it—he doesn’t know what Minho is thinking anymore. 

The air upstairs is crisp, fresh, taking away the tiredness of the day, and Jisung takes a deep breath once he steps onto the platform and walks over to the railing, waiting for Minho to join him.

Looking down is more terrifying than when he was flying on a broomstick with Minho—the ground from this high is nothing but an abyss. It’s scary that he can’t make anything out down there.

When Minho finally stands next to him and mirrors the way he’s leaning against the railing, he’s close enough that their shoulders brush. 

He takes another moment to finally speak, but now that they’re alone, Jisung doesn’t mind the prolonging; he feels more comfortable knowing that Minho isn’t just letting go. 

“I’m sorry for getting angry at you,” he says, words getting caught and flying around with the wind. “It’s not an excuse, and I should’ve controlled myself, but all the scouting situation, the injury, and my parents… I’ve been really stressed out. It was wrong of me to unleash it on you.” 

Jisung dares to turn his head to the side to look at him properly. His breath catches in his throat.

Minho’s eyes, already on him, feel like they’re piercing into his soul, trying to read what Jisung wants to say even before he voices these thoughts out. His expression is sincere.

“And, obviously, I apologize for saying that you don’t know me. I didn’t mean to do that, because it’s not what I think,” he adds, sniffling; he’s definitely going to catch a cold after this, but Jisung knows he won’t take the hoodie back. “I actually feel like you’re the only person who truly knows me. And it’s so… scary. It’s terrifying.”

Jisung leans his head over to the side to rest it on Minho’s shoulder.

He knows scary. And terrifying . And how it all goes back to Minho, maybe in different ways—Minho’s fears might come with a different feeling than Jisung’s—maybe in the same ways.

He won’t know if he doesn’t ask.

“I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt me to hear you diminishing us, but—in a way—I feel like you might’ve been right,” Jisung tells him for starters. “I still don’t know you and I probably never will figure you out in your entirety, but—but I want to. I want to get to know every part of you.”

Minho sighs. “Hannie—Don’t try to make my bad words into something good. What I said wasn’t okay. I’m sorry.”

Jisung bites the inner side of his cheek, gaze fixed on the dark sky stretching in front of them. The stars scattered across the navy space glimmer before his eyes; they’re not alone here.

“I just don’t really feel like hearing you say it every time you get angry,” he says. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” Minho repeats.

Jisung is getting a feeling that he’ll keep beating himself up over this, and that’s not something he wants. “Don’t worry that much—I’m accepting your apology, and let’s move on,” he says. “You didn’t break my heart.”

Minho snorts a chuckle. A strange sense of bravery and courage fills Jisung up from head to toe, like electricity coursing through his body and jolting him awake. He feels safe when Minho sneaks an arm around his waist, holding him near, and the comfort that comes with being close to Minho must be what prompts him to look for the right words to say.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Maybe it’s too soon—maybe it’s the worst moment, just after they made up, but he’s sure there will never be a better one.

“I really am in love with you,” Jisung says again, voice softer than before. 

He lifts his head off Minho’s shoulder, looking up at him with a hesitant smile tugging at his lips, his heart light despite just how utterly terrified he feels.

Staring at Minho always knocks air out of his lungs, makes his knees weak and heart beat faster. This time, though, the sight of his face and the surprise in his eyes, enhanced in the moonlight, makes him feel calm. 

“Are you sure?” he asks hesitantly—dumbly, as if thinking Jisung’s mind hasn’t been occupied with Minho-shaped thoughts ever since the day they met.

Jisung breaks into a fond smile. Of course he’s in love with this idiot; and if by any chance this idiot is in love with him, too, Jisung will be the happiest person in the world; if he isn’t, Jisung will be happy, still. 

“People fall in love in weird ways. Sometimes all it takes is breaking into a cute guy’s dormitory and stealing his hoodie, refusing to give it back until he likes you, too,” Jisung says, a smile curving on his lips. Then, he confirms, “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

The smile Minho offers him sends Jisung’s pulse skittering. 

“I like you, too,” Minho says then, eyes bright with that familiar flare. He wraps his arm around Jisung’s waist again, pulling him closer to snuggle into his side. “I like you so much.”

Jisung doesn’t even bother trying to keep the grin off his face as the tingling joy makes his heart beat faster. Even though it wasn’t as he planned—and he planned at least ten scenarios, even before they fought—it’s more than perfect. Minho’s lips pressing a soft kiss to his temple is more than enough. 

“I don’t know what happens next,” Minho confesses in a whisper; the hint of  anxiety in his voice makes Jisung’s heart tremble.

“It’s okay—I don’t know, either,” he says, pressing his face into the crook of Minho’s neck. “But we can figure it all out as we go.”

✦

As soon as the snow melts with no chance of more snowfall, the weather gets more bearable, and February feels more like spring than it should, Minho and Jisung sneak out of the castle.

“I had no idea you were such a romantic,” Jisung teases as he’s spreading a blanket over the grass near the Great Lake, Minho shushing him quiet for being too loud.

“I’m not,” Minho argues, rolling his eyes pointedly. Jisung thinks he would be able to see the red tips of his ears if only it weren’t so dark out. “I’m just making your dreams come true.”

Jisung grins. “Yah, that’s even worse! It means you’re sappy and disgustingly in love with me.”

Minho tells him to be quiet. 

He plops down on the blanket, delicately wraps his fingers around Jisung’s wrist, and pulls him down onto the grass so they can lie comfortably, Jisung’s cheek pressed against Minho’s chest. 

He feels warm all over with the arms that sneak around his middle to pull him closer.

Jisung knows his boyfriend is the brightest person he knows. He had no idea, however, that Minho will one day literally blow his mind. He came up with the idea of casting a warming spell on their clothes, something that allows them to run through the castle and spend time in the dungeons without feeling like they’re going to freeze to death.

Though, now that Jisung thinks about it, the heat of Minho’s body next to his might just be enough.

“We’ve chosen a good night to stargaze,” Minho mumbles quietly. “It’s the clearest sky in a long time.”

Jisung props himself up on his elbow, lips curling into a teasing smile. “I thought it was just an excuse to cuddle in a romantic setting.”

“Partially.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, shifting to rest his head on Minho’s lap instead.

Pointing up to the sky, Jisung tells him, “Did you know that some light we’re seeing is from dead stars? The light has to travel an incredibly long distance to be visible from Earth, so—you know—it’s pretty logical, but still… it’s strange.” 

Minho hums, and Jisung doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling; he always does when Jisung spits out some silly facts, even though he probably knows most of the stuff Jisung mentions. 

It’s almost as though he just likes to hear Jisung talk.

Minho’s hand wanders to Jisung’s hair, running through it and tugging at the strands and scratching his scalp as if Jisung is a cat. It’s cute, even more so when Jisung remembers all the times he stopped in the hallways, dragging Jisung along to pet some cat.

Jisung closes his eyes, just for a moment, and allows Minho do his magic. Maybe he allows him too much, because soon enough, and he feels himself dozing off. Jisung blinks away the feeling, sitting up to change his position again.

“Merlin, do you ever stop moving?” Minho grumbles, pretending to be annoyed, and yet pulling Jisung closer when hepresses himself against his side again. 

Their faces are close now—close enough for Jisung to count Minho’s eyelashes, see the mole on the side of his nose, or to plant a kiss on his lips just by moving an inch forward.

He wants to—and Minho seems to either be able to read his mind or he just wants the same thing, because he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

When Jisung nods and they finally lean in, it’s their first kiss, though it’s everything contrary to how everyone describes the feeling. No fireworks, sparkles flying, mind spinning.

Instead, Jisung feels at peace, calm and steady, when their lips are slotted together—when Minho is the one he’s kissing.

The world stops for that precious moment when their lips collide—everything feels like it’s falling into place. Minho’s lips taste like freshly ripe cherries they stole from the Kitchens and ate on their way here—sweet, and yet there’s a hint of sourness that lingers on Jisung’s tongue. 

He wants more.

He sits up properly, swinging his leg over Minho’s lap to straddle him, melting when Minho’s hands find their way to his hips, steadying him. 

The touch is hot on his bare skin, fingers skimming over the expanse right under the fabric of his hoodie. He leans in again, breath still unsteady, crashing their lips together again, wondering and wondering why they’d waited so long to do this.

Minho smiles into the kiss and he can’t help himself, either. Their teeth clash then, and Minho falls back laughing, even more when Jisung hopelessly chases after him.

Jisung pouts, straightening up with his hands on Minho’s chest. His heart is pounding, the sound of blood thumping loudly in his ears.

His pulse only seems to pick up when he looks down at Minho and sees him prettier than ever, with his hair pushed back and face lit up with a bright smile. 

Jisung is beginning to pray for his poor, fragile heart. 

✦

Instead of spending Valentine’s Day in Hogsmeade like most of the school, they go to the Room of Requirement instead, drinking iced-americano and eating the cheesecake the elves prepared for them.

They prefer each other’s presence to pushing through the crowds of students in the town—always better alone, though the decision to stay in might’ve been influenced a little by the prospect of not having to tone down their shameless affection when it’s just the two of them.

Minho likes coming to the Room with Jisung, even if they aren’t doing anything particularly special; it feels perfect even if they’re just taking care of their homework together or napping huddled on the sofa. And when Jisung agrees to read for him or tell him stories made up on the spot, it’s almost like heaven. 

Being with Jisung is easy. 

It’s evenings spent in silence and eating late at the Kitchens because they lost track of time on their date, missing dinner. It’s arms wrapped around each other with no reason other than the need to be close, calming touches and tender kisses, sometimes unconscious—when Minho catches himself reaching out to hold Jisung’s hand or card fingers through his hair without even thinking about it.

It’s chasing each other through the magic beach on the blazing sand, drinking hot chocolate until their stomachs hurt, and cuddling on armchairs in the library on cold nights.

Every time Minho glances at Jisung or catches the sight of him out of the corner of his eye, he can feel the tingling sensation in his chest, the way a smile instantly tugs at his mouth, and how the air is knocked out of his lungs.

Being with Jisung makes him wonder if he’s ever been this happy with anyone else. The answer is obvious when he finds a note in between the pages of his History of Magic book as he opens it in class, a small drawing of a crooked cat and two stick figures crouching beside it, seemingly petting it, and a “meet me behind the statue of Avery on the 6th floor,” that leaves Minho smiling, head in the clouds for the remainder of his class.

✦

Next time a trip rolls around, they decide to actually not miss it and go Hogsmeade for once.

Still, Jisung agrees to ditch the comfortably deserted castle only when Minho promises they’ll spend time away from everyone.

They leave the castle earlier than most of the students, basically sneaking out against the rules (not for the first time, and the town is only waking up when they reach it. It’s a quite warm morning, the sun beginning to break through the clouds, although if it weren’t for their enchanted clothes, the piercing wind would definitely be a bother.

With fingers intertwined, though, they swing their arms like little kids and walk through the streets of the village without a care in the world.

“What did you plan?” Jisung finally asks after they pass a majority of the shops without stopping once.

Minho squeezes his hand. “There’s a pond and a tea shop near the border of Hogsmeade. I’m pretty sure no one goes there, so…” 

Jisung hums, but he’s clearly surprised. Minho feels like he knows what Jisung is thinking, and he wonders why this time Jisung doesn’t say, Didn’t know you were such a romantic! but it’s still cute how he looks around the town with eyes a little wider—more curious.

The entrance to the tea shop actually draws their attention; it’s supposedly a new building, all clean and full of plants and somehow fits into the landscape of the town. The bell hung over the door signals their arrival, and when the cashier shows up behind the counter, the otherworldly smell of fruit appears with her, almost knocking them off their feet.

Large glass windows surround the entire front, golden rays of morning sun peek into the building, kissing the wooden floor with warmth. Everything looks cozy, painted in pastels and soft glitter.

Their hands brush against one another as they look around the display, and Minho catches himself trying to suppress a silly smile—he fails.

The cashier tells them about the pastries that have turned out the best when she baked them this morning, pointing to something with strawberries. Minho personally thinks everything looks top-tier and he wouldn’t mind eating all of them, but he lets Jisung choose whatever he likes.

“Since I’m choosing, I’m paying,” Jisung insists then, and before Minho even gets to protest, he buys them earl gray and more takeaway sweets for breakfast.

Minho links their arms together after they leave the shop, face scrunching up as it comes in contact with the glaring morning sun. 

He leads Jisung down the path curling around the building, where the grass is high and still wet with dew, taking every step with confidence, leaving Jisung wondering how many times he’s wandered around the castle, around the forests and towns in search of stunning places to spend magical moments in.

That’s going to stay Minho’s little secret.

Holding Jisung’s hand tightly in his own, he breaks through the thicket, and Jisung, grumbling behind him, probably thinks that the tall grass meadow will never end. That is, until Minho stops in his tracks and turns back to smile at him. 

“Welcome to the little paradise,” he says.

When Jisung stands on tiptoe to look over his shoulder, he thinks Minho is more than right. Before them spreads out a landscape like out of a fairy tale. Dense thickets form a barrier between Hogsmeade and this little paradise, shielding it from the prying eyes of people. It looks as if the fairy dust is floating above the ground, swirling and glistening in the March sun.

Jisung feels like he is floating above the ground as he takes a step towards a small pond.

He looks around and his eyes lock with Minho’s without saying anything—the awe is visible on his face. 

In a strange way, the smile Minho sends him—aiming it only at Jisung—and his eyes, full of fire, make warmth spread all over Jisung’s body—it’s more pleasant than the heat of the sun.

They sit on large stones, even though there’s something that looks like a bench nearby; it seems to be made by magic or the trees themselves; the roots and branches form it as a whole, as if the plants wanted to create a more pleasant atmosphere by sharing a piece of themselves.

“You keep surprising me every time,” Jisung mumbles, tilting his head back to bathe in the sun.

It’s too early in the year for the weather to be this pleasant, but the whole place is surrounded by magic stronger than any other. It gives a sense of security—a feeling that this is the world they belong to.

“It’s a good thing, right?” Minho’s voice sounds uncertain, and Jisung hums, reaching out to rest his hand on Minho’s thigh.

“The best,” he tells him, fluttering his eyes open to assure him with his stare, hoping it’s just as fond to Minho as it feels to him. “Makes me keep wondering how you find these places, though.”

Minho chuckles, ducking his head down. “Books in the library are much more than just science if you know where to look.”

“Ah, yes. You’re such a little nerd,” Jisung teases, watching the warm blush spread across Minho’s cheeks, and darker on the tips of his ears.

Minho looks at him, swiping his tongue over his lower lip.

The timid glint in his eyes makes him seem unsure, even,and he shifts his gaze to the clear water in the pond, as if for Jisung not to read anything from his stare. As caught off-guard by the sudden shift in his expression as Jisung is, he gives Minho time; he has learnt that when it comes to Minho, it’s the best solution.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” Minho says finally.

Jisung straightens up almost unconsciously, an eyebrow arching up, but the anxiety dissipates, because it doesn’t feel like this is about them. He squeezes Minho’s thigh to show him he’s listening.

“Remember the whole Quidditch scouting thing?”

Jisung nods, watching Minho rub his cheek, almost sheepishly.

“Well, Ballycastle Bats have actually owled me a few days ago,” he says eventually, the words stealing air out of Jisung’s lungs. “I don’t—I don’t know.”

They haven’t talked about it in a long time, Jisung realizes, and—considering that Quiddich is in a way something that drove them apart—maybe Minho had been as scared as him to bring it up—say something wrong, ask the wrong thing, and mess up again.

A hesitant smile tugs at Jisung’s lips. “Min-ah, that’s absolutely crazy—”

The Ballycastle Bats have been the Champions of the British and Irish Quidditch League for way longer than Jisung can remember, and most of the players are in their respective national teams as well. The fact that they’re reaching out to someone as talented as Minho isn’t surprising—at least to Jisung—but it still gives him chills out of pride.

“What did they say?”

Minho clears his throat, eyes briefly meeting Jisung’s before he directs them to the pond again. “They want me to play for them when I finish school,” he says, sounding like he’s still in disbelief; Jisung certainly is. “And, of course, I wouldn’t make it to the line-up immediately, but they think—they said that I’m really talented for my age.”

He runs his fingers over the water, destroying the calm surface of the pond, lilac-scaled fishes swimming away with a startle. When he looks up at Jisung again, an uncertain expression is dimming the flare in his eyes.

“I want to agree,” he says. “I would be an idiot not to agree.”

Jisung can’t hide that it surprises him.

He blinks, taken aback, eyebrows shooting up as some intelligible nonsense spills out of his mouth. 

“I mean—” Minho carries on, before he can even pause and let his mind think through what to say. “I still want to be a healer. At least to have a back up plan if the Quidditch thing doesn’t… work out.”

Jisung’s hand wanders from Minho’s thigh to the hand loosely hanging as he has his elbow propped up on his knee. He squeezes it tightly in a gesture of unconditional support and pride, hoping Minho can feel all the whirlwind of emotions when their skin is connected.

Minho smiles like he feels it. “I’m going to owl them back that I’m agreeing to play if I can just train with them until I finish my internship at Mungo’s or Avery’s.”

Jisung breathes out a sigh of relief. “I’m sure everything will turn out just fine,” he says. Then, jutting out his lower lip in a pout, he adds, “I’m so proud of you. Much more than you can imagine.”

Minho scrunches his nose in embarrassment, red dust tinting his ears, and he leans in to press a wet kiss to Jisung’s cheek to draw his attention away from how flustered the words of affection make him.

Minho’s kiss, light as a butterfly, feels even more magical than the place surrounding them. 

The Ravenclaw goes back to his more relaxed self after Jisung assures him that everything will be alright, that he’ll be there to help him with anything, that there are so many good things waiting for Minho, and they happily munch on cherry pastries, still warm as if taken out of the oven mere seconds ago.

When they move to sit on the ground scattered in flowers, there’s still barely any space between them as though their hearts are magnets caught in a magical pull.

“The NEWTs are coming up,” Minho mutters, swinging his legs up in the air as he lies on his stomach, Jisung pressed against his side on his back. “I’m going to study a lot, just so you know. So if I disappear for a while, and no one knows where to find me, I’m probably in the Room of Requirement.” Jisung hums, tracing Minho’s jawline and features with his finger. Pure perfection. “You can come with me anytime you want but it’ll be boring, so…”

“I don’t really want to distract you ‘cause I know how you can’t take your eyes off me,” he says cheekily, making Minho roll his eyes, and giggles at his reaction, cupping the side of his face. “But… I know how important exams are for you, so don’t worry. Just don’t stay up too late, or Renjun and I will hex you.”

His thumb moves over Minho’s pink lips, curled up in a soft smile despite the threat falling off Jisung’s mouth.

Minho leans in to kiss him, chaste and light like butterflies fluttering around them. Jisung moves his hand to the side of Minho’s neck, pulling him in closer.

He hadn’t been mistaken when he said this place was a little paradise. 

✦

Jisung realizes they haven’t told anyone they’re dating the day Minho joins him and his friends during one of their scheduled study evenings.

Seungmin and Felix are discussing something about dragons, their whispers too loud to belong in the library, Hyunjin is scribbling notes on the margin of his Potions book, and Jeongin keeps annoying Jisung by kicking the table leg while reading. 

Minho saves him—sort of.

He greets everyone in a hushed whisper and, as he sits down, he plants a soft kiss on Jisung’s cheek. The table goes into absolute silence then; Jisung frowns, not really keeping up with what is going on.

“Merlin’s beard, what the hell was that?” Jeongin splutters. Felix’s eyes go wide as he smacks the younger Ravenclaw on the arm.

Jisung smiles, exchanging a look with Minho, embarrassed at how this topic somehow hadn’t come up before. “Right,” he chuckles, the awkward atmosphere flushing his cheeks pink. “We’re dating.”

“About time.”

“Congrats!”

“Definitely didn’t see that coming.”

“Dear Merlin!”

The group speaks up at once, making it hard to understand, but Jisung sends them a grateful grin, anyway, and he’s grateful that they don’t jump to teasing them, rather all going back to studying.

And if any of them notice Jisung squeezing Minho’s hand under the table, they luckily let it go.

✦

The not making fun of Jisung and Minho being clingy phase doesn’t last long.

It’s not like they’re making out or even cuddling around others, but it seems like Jeongin has made it his personal agenda to yell how gross they are at all times (Jisung has to admit he’s kissed Minho once just to piss Jeongin off but that was it), and the rest quickly joins in, teasing jabbing remarks about how they’re even worse than before.

Whatever that means.

Somehow, Minho’s circle of friends has joined Jisung’s during group hangouts and fortunately they fit just right. It was strange at first, to see them get along so well despite not really knowing each other. But, Jisung supposes, you might know someone only for a little part of your life and yet feel like you’ve known them for an eternity. 

(He knows it well.)

Jisung’s eyes fall shut and, suddenly, he’s all too aware of the April sunlight embracing him. 

Without another thing to fixate on, Jisung’s mind wanders and wanders, until he thinks about how he can imagine the way the other students swooning over Minho, staring at him with starry eyes, watching him closely during the Quidditch games, enchanted, and they all eventually feel the same pattern of entangled thoughts and heartbeats picking up.

It’s exactly how Jisung feels whenever he looks at Minho.

But even if they all swoon over him, steal glances and laugh at his bad jokes, he lets himself imagine that Minho prefers him over everybody else.

Someone squeezes his hand and he doesn’t have to open his eyes to know it’s the person occupying his thoughts almost all the time. Minho. He’s right here, with his back against the tree, letting Jisung rest on his lap. He can hear their friends shouting in the distance, something that sounds more like cries for help and then, “Changbin, I will hecking murder you if you don’t let me go!”

Minho snorts, most likely watching the scene with his own eyes and probably seeing no harm is happening, if he isn’t running to save anyone.

“Are you napping?” he whispers.

Jisung flutters his eyes open and groans when sunlight falls on his face. He moves quickly to avoid getting blinded by the glaring rays and rests his head on Minho’s shoulder instead.

“I wasn’t,” he says. “Just enjoying myself.”

When he shifts his gaze away from Minho and looks straight ahead, Jisung sees their friends playing near the Great Lake. Other students might see them as nothing but a bunch of crazy kids, sending weird glances their way, but that’s what they really are.

Kids.

They may be acting too loud, squeaking and splashing cool and dirty water on each other, but Jisung is glad they get to spend time together, taking a break from schoolwork and responsibilities, even if it’s just for one short day.

Felix suddenly points his finger at them, and, even sitting under the tree and away from them, Jisung knows that it doesn’t mean anything good. Then, Chan grins, takes out his wand, and mutters a spell, magically sending a stream of water towards them. They don’t even manage to dodge it, and a second later their clothes are all wet.

“Your stupid games are ending right this moment!” Minho yells and stands up, jogging down to the lake, making the group break and run away, trying to escape the Ravenclaw chasing them.

Jeongin lets out a shriek that sounds like someone is murdering him when Minho grabs the collar of his shirt.

“No!” he screams. “I’ve been good! I’m Jisung’s best friend! Don’t hurt me!”

Minho hums, turning to face Jisung. “Let’s see. Hey, baby, do you mind?”

Jeongin tries to make use of the split moment when Minho’s focus is solely on Jisung to run away, but the grip on his t-shirt is too strong and he pathetically falls back against Minho.

“Not at all!” Jisung screams back, then, though he isn’t sure what Minho is even doing.

He bursts into laughter, eyes going wide as Minho grabs Jeongin properly, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, and jumps into the lake, dragging him along.

Jisung can’t even imagine how cold the water must be, but, with how everyone is yelling in between laughter, he supposes it’s nothing pleasant.

Jeongin is the loudest. 

“You did this to your own housemate!” he screams, pushing his wet hair back. “I can’t believe it! What a traitor! And what if I drowned?”

“I didn’t let you go! And besides, you told me yourself that you’d want a swimming team at Hogwarts—it’s not like you can’t swim! I remember!”

Minho laughs as he keeps his arm slung over Jeongin’s shoulder, pulling the younger close as they approach Jisung by the tree, so they can share at least a bit of their body heat. They’re soaked—hair sticking to their foreheads and clothes uncomfortable against their skin. Still, Jeongin, despite screaming his lungs out, doesn’t seem to be so mad.

“I’ll get you something sweet from the Kitchens later, okay?” Minho promises, letting go of him. He intends on sitting back down on the blanket in the spot he’d been occupying before, but Jisung pushes him away before Minho can cling to him.

“Nah, you’re all wet,” he grimaces.

He grabs his wand to cast a warming up spell at both his boyfriend and Jeongin, saving them from their misery. There’s no need for them to end up sick.

The rest of the group must think the danger of being thrown into the ice-cold lake is over (with Minho it’s quite unpredictable), because they waddle over and lie around on the grass, breathing heavily from all the running.

Jeongin is sulking, ignoring Felix’s pleas to forgive the betrayal. “You’re a prefect, Yongbok. How could you do this to me?” he keeps whining.

His stubborn demeanor doesn’t last long with the Hufflepuff—not when Felix is clinging to him with puppy eyes.

Minho, unsurprisingly, snuggles into Jisung as soon as his clothes are dry again, demanding more warmth.

With the sun embracing him just like Minho, and his friends giggling about stupid stuff right by his side, Jisung thinks he doesn’t need anything else. 

✦

With NEWTs coming up soon, Minho gets visibly more engrossed in schoolwork every day. After classes, he takes a quick break for a nap and goes back to revising with books or practising his spells and potions in the Room of Requirement.

Jisung often accompanies him just for the sake of being together. He makes Minho rest more often than he would if he was alone and makes sure he doesn’t stay up too late.

“I feel like you’re babysitting me,” Minho mumbles one night, after Jisung makes him lie down for a moment longer in a selfish decision to not let go of Minho’s warmth. They’re cuddled up on the couch, limbs tangled together. “I’m just being a good boyfriend.”

Minho props up on his elbow. His eyes hypnotize and lure Jisung closer, making him lean in almost unconsciously.

“ The best boyfriend,” Minho corrects him, planting a kiss on his lips right after and jumping up to keep practicing non-verbal spell casting a few feet away.

Jisung watches him for a long moment—how he scrunches his face in concentration and smiles under his breath when the spell works out—and his heart dangerously skips a beat.

He feels just the same a few days later when Minho asks him if he wants to go on a study date.

How can he not want to spend every second he can with the person he’s so in love with? How can he not want to hold Minho close in his arms? How can he not want to sneak glances at him while he’s so focused on studying he forgets where he is?

How can he?

Naturally, he agrees and they go back to Minho’s dormitory to grab a few sheets of parchment so he can take his notes.

While Minho is looking for the paper in the pits of his trunk, Jisung can’t help but wander around the room. His gaze falls upon the nightstand next to his boyfriend’s bed. He squints, coming closer, and a smile tugs at his lips hopelessly. 

“You framed it?”

Minho looks up, confused, before he lays his eyes on the picture Jisung is pointing to. It shows Jisung, kissing the top of Byeol’s furry head. It was taken during the holidays; Jisung remembers attaching a few polaroid shots of him and his cat to one of the letters he’d exchanged with Minho.

It’s a different thing, though, knowing Minho has kept it on display, has framed it and is most probably looking at it every day after waking up. Jisung’s stomach feels funny when he notices the embarrassed blush on Minho’s ears.

“It’s super cute,” Jisung says. “I might have to take a lot of pictures of you, too, and stick them all over my room so I don’t miss you too much during summer.”

Minho smiles softly. “Plenty time’s left.”

“Yeah. And you can visit me when you’re free.”

Minho takes a few steps forward and loops his arms around Jisung’s waist. Jisung reaches out to push the glasses up Minho’s nose, making him scrunch his face—it’s way too adorable.

He leans in and hums into Jisung’s lips before diving in and kissing him delicately.

Then, when they part, he says, “I’ll always be free for you. And for Byeol—I have to see the baby in person.”

Jisung gasps in mock-offense, smacking the giggling Minho on the shoulder. He dodges the pillow the younger boy throws at him and runs out of the room, leaving him behind. His laugh echoes through the halls as Jisung tries to catch up.

He doesn’t feel slightly embarrassed, even when students are staring at them, even when he jumps onto Minho’s back, sending them both flying to the ground. He feels carefree.

Minho groans, but there’s a wide grin plastered to his face, anyway.

“I think you broke my back,” he croaks out. “I’ve got a Quidditch Cup to win and NEWTs to take, help me up, you little demon.”

“If there weren’t a bunch of first years staring at us right now, I’d kick you in the face,” Jisung whispers, leaning into his ears, but he obediently sits up, anyway. After smacking him on the butt, he pulls Minho up, then intertwines their fingers together—out of a habit, seeking the comfort of familiarity that comes with having Minho close. 

✦

When the weather gets a lot warmer and Jeongin can make flower crowns for Felix again, Jisung notices how tense Minho is.

He oscillates between constant Quidditch training and studying for NEWTs, so every second away from the pitch and books, Jisung makes him rest.

“I’m sorry it’s like this,” Minho whispers, cheek pressed to Jisung’s chest where his heart is. His arm loosely hangs over Jisung’s waist, fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Be quiet. There’s nothing to make up,” Jisung tells him. “The exams and the Cup are your top priority now and I understand that. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Minho’s eyes are shining when they lock with Jisung’s. Or maybe it’s just how he sees them—burning with passion and love.

“All the time in the world,” Minho repeats, resting his head back on Jisung’s chest. They have drawn the curtains of his bed in the Ravenclaw’s dormitory and silenced it with a spell so they don’t disturb the rest of his roommates with their late night talking. “The match is in two days. You’ll be cheering for me, right?”

“Hmmm… that’s a little too traitorous towards my own house. My heart is torn apart,” Jisung fakes a sniff. Minho scoffs at him, pinching his side. “Hey! I might not show up.”

“You have to,” the Ravenclaw props on his elbow, voice serious. “You’re my lucky charm.”

Words get stuck in Jisung’s throat—for a split second, he feels like he can’t breathe; it’s all about those things Minho says suddenly, catching him off-guard with something so soft and affectionate that Jisung’s world just… stops.

Minho is looking at him, watching him with so much fondness written all over his face. He’s hiding nothing, not even the darkest part of his soul.

In moments like these, with nothing between them, it feels as if Jisung is falling in love with him all over again. Falling, and falling, and falling, and Minho is right there waiting to catch him.

His heartbeat picks up and he’s sure Minho can either hear it or feel it where his hand lies pressed against Jisung’s chest. And yet, he can’t bring himself to feel embarrassed about the effect Minho has on him. 

“I’ll even wear your hoodie, then,” Jisung smiles, fingers tangling and combing through Minho’s hair.

Minho quirks an eyebrow up. “The one you stole? I’m still waiting to get it back.”

“You will never.” Jisung grins cheekily. 

He doesn’t know if he’s losing his breath because of the way Minho looks at him or because Minho starts tickling him so hard that his stomach hurts and cramps.

Maybe both answers are true. 

✦

The day of the Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw game is a tough one. Jisung has to force Minho to eat something other than a banana for breakfast, ignoring all the complaints and whines about how he’s not hungry. 

Jisung sighs. “Okay, you can not be hungry, but you need strength, you dumbass.”

“Bananas are full of potassium,” Minho says ,but he shuts his mouth quickly and grabs the sandwich Jisung has prepared for him when the Slytherin glares at him.

Minho had been sulky when he saw that Jisung wasn’t wearing his sweatshirt, but he had to get over it when Jisung told him that it was too hot outside for him to boil in a hoodie. (He kept complaining and whining until Jisung kissed him.) The blue hearts painted on his cheeks and the cheering he promised him must be enough.

It’s his first game after the accident and the last game of his Hogwarts career.

Jisung can’t be there in the changing room with him and the team to listen to Minho’s final speech as the captain, but he wishes him good luck in his own way, by kissing him hard and then again on the forehead.

Never in his life has he been invested in a Quidditch match like this. His throat is sore and his own housemates are sending him funny looks for cheering so loudly for another team, but he can’t even bring himself to care. Slytherins can get through one game without his support—here, Minho is much more important.

When Chaeyoung catches the Golden Snitch and the match ends with Ravenclaw winning, Jisung leaves everything behind and runs to the pitch, where Minho leaves his teammates and waits for him with the widest smile on his face.

Jisung jumps, wrapping his legs around the elder’s waist and laughing when Minho spins them around. Before he dives into another kiss, he stares at Minho and wipes the tears off his cheeks so no one sees.

He doesn’t care about the whole school seeing them being so gross and disgusting—as Jeongin would say—nor about the members of both teams low-whistling behind them, laughing at their public display of affection.

All Jisung can think about is how Minho has somehow managed to turn his world upside down and robbed him of his heart, with no intention of ever giving it back.

“I love you,” he whispers into Minho’s lips, squeezing his eyelids tight—it’s scary to let them open, to face Minho and to show him that this is exactly what he feels; because there’s no doubt that Minho would be able to see it in his eyes.

Jisung slips out of Minho’s embrace, standing on his own legs, though it’s hard when his knees seem so weak, wobbling under his weight.

What he sees when he finally flutters his eyes open exceeds all his expectations, all his dreams and fantasies. The look that Minho sends him sucks the air out of the entire world, and out of Jisung’s lungs, his eyes like a magnet and Jisung can’t look away, can’t breathe, can’t speak.

“I love you more,” Minho whispers back. He lets out a shaky breath, as if he hasn’t expected the confession, either. “I love you much more than you can imagine.”

Jisung believes him without a second thought. He pulls Minho closer, so close that there’s no space left between them and kisses him hard, with the confession still lingering on his lips.

It doesn’t last long, because someone is pulling Minho away from him, screaming congratulations and pulling him into hugs, but they both laugh, completely unaffected, because there are still billions of kisses to share that the universe is granting them. 

✦

Jisung holds Minho’s hand as the Ravenclaw looks at the castle one last time from the path to the Hogsmeade Station. It’s a strange feeling, knowing that in a year he will be the one closing such a huge chapter of his life with the same bittersweet aftertaste. Closing a chapter and writing the next one, with more experience and dreams.

Jisung doesn’t feel like an adult yet, but he’s grown these past years, every second he’s spent in the castle leaving a mark in his mind; he doesn’t know how he’ll manage to say goodbye. 

“Can I be really cheesy for a second?” Minho asks him later, when they’re waiting for the rest of their friends in one of the compartments.

Jisung nods, trying to prepare himself for what’s to come, though when it comes to Minho, he’s learned, it’s always more than he expects—something completely different. When Minho speaks up again, however, he realizes once again that he’ll never be prepared for or get used to Minho’s acts of affection.

“This year had been the best one out of all seven because I fell in love with you.”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply with something equally soft, because Seungmin swings the door aside and yells, “Stop making out, we’re already here!”

Jisung simply rolls his eyes at him and crosses arms over his chest, pressing himself closer to Minho, silently hoping Minho knows that he feels exactly the same—that Jisung wouldn’t have been able to survive it all if it weren’t for Minho.

Their group of friends rolls inside the small compartment, occupying all the available space, it’s unsurprisingly cramped. Felix stands up to open the small window and let in some fresh air.

Jisung sighs. His eyelids seem to be closing by themselves and he doesn’t know why—he’s slept pretty well at night, though it’s been awfully hot and he had to kick away his blankets to be comfortable.

Since March onwards, the weather has been getting more and more unbearable. Now that the real summer has begun, Jisung is sure that he will be spending the next two months by the pool with iced drinks in hand.

“What are you guys doing this summer?” Chan asks after they stop complaining about how hot it’s in the train.

They must be in Aberdeen by now, though Jisung isn’t sure. He can’t really figure out the route of Hogwarts Express, even after six years. He wishes it didn’t take so long to travel back home, especially when he and Eunji have to use portkeys to get back to Falkirk from London, anyway.

“I’ll most likely die of boredom at home,” groans Jeongin. He and Hyunjin are the only ones whose families still live in Korea, the rest scattered all over the world.

Jisung wonders if it’s been fate that has brought them all together. (At least half of them would call him gross and cheesy for that.)

“Mom’s sending me to a Mediwizard course,” Hyunjin announces. 

Minho’s eyes shoot up at that, straying away from the landscape stretching outside the window. “Oh, that’s cool!”

“You start your internship in August, too, right?”

Minho shrugs sheepishly. “I I get in. I just have to wait for the NEWTs results.”

“There’s no one better for this spot than you,” Hyunjin tells him.

Jisung observes in adoration how Minho sends the younger Hufflepuff an abashed smile.

“What are you doing during summer, Jisung?” Changbin asks. Jisung quirks an eyebrow, surprised at his genuine curiosity, because—admittedly—he’s never had any longer conversations with the Gryffindor.

“I’m just—Minho’s coming over, so… yeah. I’ll be showing him around Falkirk if the weather isn’t too bad.” 

The compartment erupts in ‘I told you so’s and ‘I’m glad I live on the other side of the world’s. It makes Minho giggle, so Jisung takes no offence.

“You’re all just jealous I’ll be having the summer of my life with Byeol,” Minho grins, because he always excitedly shows everyone the polaroids of the cat that Jisung’s dad sends them.

“And me,” Jisung corrects him, rolling his eyes grumpily. “Your boyfriend.” 

He tries to move away, just for show, but Minho’s arm quickly wraps around his waist, keeping him in place. It’s not like he has a lot of space to maneuver, either.

“I knew you were just using me to steal my cat,” he keeps teasing. “That’s just cruel.”

At some point, Seungmin and Changbin leave because they can’t take Minho and Jisung bickering like they’ve been married for thirty years and ruining the travel . The rest sends them knowing looks, though, but it seems like neither of them don’t care about their silly friends a tiny bit.

They get to King’s Cross at dusk, everyone glad to stretch their legs after a long journey. 

Eunji is already waiting when they leave the train hand in hand. She greets them with a smile and Jisung appreciates her not making it awkward.

He filled her in on the situation a few weeks ago, even before he offered it to Minho.

The thing is, Minho’s parents are still in the States working on the medicine—apparently it’s being modified a lot and they aren’t coming back home anytime soon. It’s not like Minho minds—all they’ve written to him is that they hope he hasn’t messed up on the exams and he hasn’t even had it in him to tell them about his future plans. He isn’t doing any of it for them, anymore.

Jisung has been very nervous to ask him to stay with him and his family for a while, just so they can spend some time together before he gets the NEWTs results and begins his internship—Jisung is sure he will get in.

And now he can feel Minho’s hand trembling in his.

“You don’t have to worry. Byeol won’t be greeting us on the platform,” he whispers into his ear, jokingly, to ease the tension. Minho sends him a small smile and squeezes his hand.

Eunji, just like last time, is the first to notice Dad in the crowd. She runs over to hug him tightly, then says something that makes him nod and they both turn to look at them. Jisung can’t help but laugh when Minho gives him a panicked look.

“It’s okay,” Jisung assures. “I’m right here.”

He stops the cart with their trunks, pulling it to the side, then slowly walks towards his dad, still gripping Minho’s hand tightly in his own to make this at least a tiny bit more comfortable for him.

If Minho was this nervous about meeting his Chill Dad, then Jisung, if he were to meet his parents one day, would probably pass out from stress (that is actually justified).

“Don’t scare him, dad,” Jisung warns, but his lips are already curled up in a wide smile. “I hate that there’s so many people here to witness it but, meet my boyfriend, Minho.”

He watches them exchange awkward smiles and realizes it must be nerve-wrecking for his father, too. 

Eunji giggles, hand covering her mouth as Minho says, “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“No need to be so formal,” Jisung’s dad tells him. “Jisung has written so much about you, I feel like I know you just as much as he does.”

“Dad!” Jisung huffs, enraged.

Minho seems more relaxed now, an eyebrow raised at Jisung in curiosity. He doesn’t let the older say anything, though, pulling him by his hand towards the gate with fervour.

“The portkey activates in seven minutes,” Eunji reminds them as they rush to Cubitt Park to find a place to teleport without any muggles seeing them.

She has already enchanted her bag with Capacious Extremis to fit all their luggage just like she does every time they have to use the portkey.

“Five!” she exclaims over her shoulder and points to an empty picnic spot, hidden by bushes. “You ready, dad?” Eunji asks softly.

They always have to make sure their dad is safe, especially when travelling by magic.

“It’ll be quick,” Jisung mutters, more to himself than to anyone else because he hates the portkeys, too. 

When they touch the old newspaper lying on the grass at the same time, Jisung feels like he’s about to throw up, the piercing feeling in his stomach unbearable. He breathes out in relief when his feet finally hit the ground a moment later. He looks around, taking in his surroundings and feels a sudden rush of peace fill him up.

“Welcome to Falkirk,” he mumbles to Minho, linking their arms together.

Minho smiles, eyes crinkling into crescents. “I already love it.”

“Wait till you see the actual town.”

Eunji sets their luggage in Jisung’s room and yells about taking a nap before disappearing in her bedroom. Jisung shakes his head, already used to it. Minho, on the other hand, seems awkward, puzzled even as he looks around the whole place. Jisung shows him every corner of the house in hopes he’ll feel more at ease soon.

When they get to the kitchen, Jisung sees Byeol lying on one of the island stools and knows Minho has noticed him too.

“Oh, Merlin, he’s even cuter in person,” he mumbles, hand somehow already stroking the ginger fur, Byeol never denying himself free coddling

 As Jisung stares at them both, Byeol cuddling up to Minho’s hand, he realizes they look pretty alike. His heart skips a bit and he giggles at the thought.

Minho whips around. “What are you laughing at?”

“You two are just so adorable…”

“We are, right? But he’s cuter, just look at him. Oh, dear.”

Jisung realizes Minho probably won’t let Byeol out of his sight, enamoured by the kitten, but he doesn’t mind—not when Minho looks so happy.

He steps closer and strokes the cat behind the ear. “Don’t you dare steal my boyfriend, you understand me?”

“Don’t worry, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon,” Minho tells him. His hand wanders to Jisung’s hair, pushing it back as he just stares at him with a smile. The younger grows more embarrassed and looks away, cheeks reddening.

His dad saves him from passing out on the spot when he bursts into the kitchen. “Are you guys hungry? Dinner will be ready soon.”

“I actually feel really gross after seven hours on the train. Do you want to take a shower, too, Min-ah?” 

“Oh, yeah. That’d be great.”

Jisung ignores the way his dad is hopelessly failing at trying not to stare at them and takes Minho to the bathroom upstairs, busying himself with finding something to wear later as the elder boy is showering. Just as he’s finished, Minho comes back, smiling, dressed in a loose t-shirt and sweats, hair wet and messy. Jisung can’t help himself and he steps closer, kissing the grin off his face.

“You stink.” Jisung huffs in fake annoyance because he knows it’s true. One of too many reasons he hates summer. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“With Byeol?” he asks.

Minho doesn’t reply but with the sheepish smile lingering on his lips, Jisung already knows the answer.

He disappears into the bathroom and takes his time in the shower, body relaxing in an instant as he steps in. When he’s done, he feels much better. He sniffs, enjoying the smell of his strawberry shampoo in the air, and leaves the room. As he heads towards the stairs, he stops in his tracks upon hearing his name coming from the kitchen.

“It’s not hard to see that you care about Jisung. But just so you know—” his dad says, the stern voice unfamiliar. “You might have your magic but if you ever hurt him… I’ll hunt you down.”

Minho doesn’t even hesitate. “If I ever do something that hurts him, feel free to kick my ass.”

Jisung tries to surpass a giggle, covering his mouth with his hand.

His heart feels light when he steps into the kitchen. His dad’s expression is much softer than his voice from a moment ago when he calls for Eunji and serves them a delicious dinner. 

Minho tells him how it’s even better than the food served at Hogwarts and Jisung doesn’t even doubt that he’s being genuine, his face delighted with every bite.

And, somehow, with Minho occupying a seat by their family table, things seem complete.

After dinner, they go upstairs and nap, cuddled up on the king-sized bed. Jisung takes his time to look at Minho when he wakes up, before shaking him awake as an idea pops in his mind.

The night is falling but he feels energized.

“Let’s go to the beach,” he says.

Minho blinks at him and nods, eyes lighting up. “Is this our first date outside of Hogwarts?”

Jisung shrugs, already jumping out of his bed. They run down the stairs quickly, screaming something about leaving to his dad, who’s watching TV in the living room, and into the cold air.

They stop at the front yard, hand in hand.

“You ready for the adventure?” Minho asks, voice dripping in honey. Jisung feels the familiar tingling sensation and they’re apparating without him having a chance to answer.

But, as they land on the beach just nearby to Falkirk, Jisung kisses Minho, more passionately than he ever has and it serves as one hell of an adventure. Every single day by Minho’s side seems like an adventure and if it’s what he’s meant then Jisung is ready, with all of his heart.