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At the dead hours of the night, the only sounds that dared to disrupt the tense and thick moonless evening were the notes produced by sets of shoes against the cold floor. Two pairs of feet galloped through the vacant corridors of a school, almost like the Thestral that comes with the arrival of inevitable death, whilst their owners tried to be as silent as the snake in the crest they wore on their chests. Both young, eager and slightly scared men merged with the shadows that the torches created on their wake. Black cloaks fluttered in the freezing, green air. Whispers, from the trees or maybe from the hissing clouds outside, carried away the act that the two vandals had committed less than an hour ago.
The two friends, the two accomplices, remained quiet as their feet continued to push them through secret tunnels and passages hidden in the one place that had been more than a home for years. Now, it was becoming a strange, gloomy place. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had always been a secured realm. The castle of witches and wizards, where all were protected as long as they did not encounter basiliscs, dementors, or murderers in the silent night.
However, things were starting to change. You could feel it in the air. The scent of decay, fresh murder; the maniac laugh of a woman resonating and bouncing off the worn walls… They were all there. The panic, the tension. It was as if life had disappeared from the grounds of the castle in a blink of an eye.
It was only a matter of time, everybody knew. Just the tilt of the glass before chaos erupted once again in the magical world. He-who-must-not-be-named was only gaining strength with London’s each passing grey day. He would be returning soon, full strength, and cause the end of all.
Even when not moral, everything was truly only a power game. Kill or get killed, play or lose. At the time of making a decision as to where to stand, there was only a choice to people like those two boys who continued to run.
The hidden moon chose to make a brief apparition for a frozen minute, the clouds moving away to let the platinum light through an opaque window. This small portion of moon sparkle fell directly on the uncovered marks that the two Slytherin men, which rested vividly on their stained forearms like a crime authentication. A black skull which had a serpent for a tongue danced smoothly through the skin of these students. The movement resembled the sways of leaves on the branches of trees.
A sudden sound suddenly caught the attention of the two men. The oldest one, who had platinum hair, fair skin and sharper eyes, stopped immediately. His friend, slightly shorter, with vivid pinkish-purple hair, took a second longer to come to a halt.
“Hyung,” one of the boys said in a foreign tongue, calling for the older student who had made them stop, “What is it?”
“I don’t–” he did not have the time to finish his thoughts as his limbs decided to act first. The distinguishable sound of a heavy door opening broke the still yet tense atmosphere. The silver-haired student wrapped a hand around his friend’s arm and pulled him to a side; crashed him against a wall. His free hand clasped on top of his mouth.
A black silhouette stopped a distance away, as it had been scanning the perimeter for any victims. The outline traced the shape of a man, dressed in all black, with silky hair that dropped to his shoulders like curtains. Head of Slytherin house, Professor Severus Snape, moved his wand from one side to the other. A small beam of blue light shone from its tip, which helped him spot the two students that tried to hide behind a pillar that did not aid too much in their flee.
“Professor–” the eldest student tried to explain when his eyes met the teacher’s indifferent, dark orbs.
“Don’t bother, Mr Min,” he said in his usual slow-paced and careful tone, “I will not even question your actions, here, with Mr Park. Get out of my sight before I choose to sanction your reckless and strange behaviour… “
“Sorry, Professor,” Park Jimin, the youngest friend, said immediately before being followed by his friend’s words:
“Good night, Professor,” Min Yoongi, the older student, said as he nudged Jimin on the ribs. Move, he wanted to say with this.
The two Slytherins, then, quickly made their way to their house’s common room. They spoke in hisses, almost, and did only dare to turn around when they had been crossing the secret door to the dormitories. Snape had disappeared, without leaving any trail to suggest his prior presence in the corridors.
♞
“I’m telling you, he’s one of us!” Jimin said the following morning, winter greeting the two Slytherins on their way into the Great Hall.
“Just because he let us go without penalising his own house?” Yoongi questioned, “I think he was only doing as always. The Dark Lord could have returned, but we still have a house cup to win, you know?”
“I doubt those were his reasons...” Jimin commented as he took a seat in front of Yoongi once they had reached their table. Breakfast waited for them already. Most students were munching on their food, having quiet conversations with each other. Jimin decreased the own volume of his voice at noticing this, reduced it to a dead murmur, “You’ve heard the rumours, hyung.”
“Exactly, rumours,” Yoongi repeated, talking even lower than Jimin, “We don’t know for sure if he’s a friend or a foe. Remember that Snape betrayed the Dark Lord to side with Dumbledore in the First Wizarding War. He’s nothing but a spy.”
“You don’t trust him, then?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” Yoongi said, eyes as hard as the stones in his heart.
“Not even me?” Jimin asked, bending his head to the side as if he were a curious puppy. He smiled brightly, trying to bring some of the joy that Hogwarts had been losing in the past few weeks. His older friend sighed.
“Particularly you,” Yoongi smirked and armed his hand with an apple, which he threw to his younger friend a second later, “You, little snake.”
Jimin simply grinned and laughed loudly at what he considered to be a compliment. When he sensed the apple rushing to him, a second later, he did the first thing that came into his mind; punch it. The fruit bounced off his knuckles and elevated high in the sky for a brief moment, enough to make Jimin believe that someone had enchanted it and made it remain there forever. However, at the end, the apple modified its trajectory and chose to travel far right; where it returned to the ground, but not without slapping a fifth-year Slytherin on the arm before completing its fall.
Yoongi watched with hidden horror as the red, juicy and fat fruit left a subtle mark on the robes of the student; who turned towards him with some indignation and some surprise. The older Slytherin, in his sixth year at Hogwarts, had to contain his breath as his sharp eyes met rounder and chocolate eyes.
The boy was in the same year group as Jimin, were curiously good friends too. His hair was chestnut brown and he had the most interesting moles one could ever encounter. He had one under his lips, next to his nostril, at a side of the bridge of his nose, and also on his right cheek. They looked like dark stars, worthy of being up in the cosmos along with the spheres of fire and light – the pretty nebulae – that were also captured in the irises of his doe-like eyes. Yoongi had, indeed, devoted many hours of his short life to praise the little details of Jeon Jeongguk’s face. It was something he had not told anybody else than himself.
“It was him,” Jimin said as soon as Jeongguk’s attention went to the two Slytherins. The purple haired was pointing at Yoongi with an accusing finger. Yoongi simply scoffed, rolled his eyes and chose to look away; breaking contact with the living delicacy that was Jeon Jeongguk.
“Shut up,” was all that Yoongi limited himself to say as a hand came to rest under his chin. After this, he started to roll the eggs around his plate, as if they had not been scrambled enough.
Jimin simply continued to laugh – he always laughed – before properly apologising to Jeongguk and moving to sit next to him, leaving Yoongi by himself. This, however, did not bother the student at all. He was used to always being left alone. His parents had constantly done so as he grew up. He did not have many friends at the present time, either, which made solitude familiar.
Although, he did talk to a Ravenclaw by the name of Kim Namjoon from time to time and hung out with a Hufflepuff (Hoseok, he was called) when both had free periods between lectures. But his true and only friend had always been Jimin. Their families were close, in the end; the secret pact and brotherhood of all purebloods. Their friendship, in this sense, had been carefully selected by his parents; like everything else in Yoongi’s dull and restraint life...
Once he finished eating breakfast, Yoongi chose to head directly to class. He had potions, if he remembered correctly, and was contemplating whether or not he should skip the lesson. He was aware that Snape did glorify him in one way or another, in the same way that he did with all Slytherins, but he did not wish to test his luck too much. After yesterday night, he was almost certain that the Professor would be keeping a close eye on him; a thing which he would rather avoid, thank you very much.
On his way to the classroom, however, Jimin approached him once again. He placed an arm around the elder’s neck, a cobra finding a comfortable nest, before his voice boomed in Yoongi’s ear. The elder boy scowled, pushing the younger Slytherin away. They were alone.
“What?” he questioned, going down the empty stairs one more time. Most students remained in the Great Hall, still trying to fill their mouths with as much food as they could retain.
“When are you going to tell him?” Jimin simply asked, following the elder around the castle as if he were a lost dog.
“Tell who what?” Yoongi’s voice remained monotone, empty and free from any emotion whatsoever. His expression almost mocked his voice at trying to be as neutral as it could possibly be.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Jimin sing-sang, skipping around Yoongi when they had been walking on even paths, “Tell Jeon about your little crush? The one you’ve been having ever since your fourth year?”
“You’re insane,” Yoongi growled, coming to a stop when he heard those words flowing out of his mouth. He stared deeply into Jimin’s eyes, a murderous look across the venomous, dark pits buried in his face, “How dare you to say those things out loud?”
“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”
“Not bad?” he asked, eyebrow shooting high, “Then why not repeat the same words in front of the Dark Lord himself? Maybe you’ll get him killed, in the same way that we will be if you don’t shush your mouth.”
Under the Dark Lord’s command, the world would change completely. Muggle-borns would be the ones to suffer the most, the ones who would be exterminated like the plague first. They were the ones who would fall to their knees and surrender to the power imposed by Him.
Jeongguk would be one of these, Yoongi knew. He was a Muggle-born, a great wizard and impressive quidditch player too, but still muggle. All of those who went against the new laws, that would be forced into the magical world, would end up greeting death earlier. There would be no way to escape… No way for Yoongi to be able to protect anyone who was different... Unless that Potter guy did succeed in defeating Him, thing which Yoongi could not even consider at the time.
“Oh, come on, hyung. Where’s the cool Min Yoongi everybody adores? Where’s that bad boy girls love so much?”
Yoongi grimaced, choosing to continue his walk with slower and heavier steps. His head kept moving to the sides, carefully studying their ground for any curious listeners that could be hiding behind the walls. The last thing he needed was another rumour about him to spread, especially if it involved the element of romance or any other one associated with this one. Words tended to spread quickly around the castle and students were always keen to know about the lives of others, even in times when war and catastrophe stared at them from a short distance. There were, now, only a few more minutes to midnight…
He wouldn’t be surprised if little stories surged the following day about him. He could imagine them perfectly, jumping from one mouth to the other: the cold and reserved Slytherin, Yoongi Min, is hopelessly crushing on fifth-year Jeongguk Jeon. Yoongi let a tremor shake his limbs. He would rather be thrown to the loving arms of a dementor than to have to live through high school humiliation.
“Well, that bad boy you’re mentioning went away long ago. He’s now busy trying not to get himself killed, which is a thing I would recommend you to also consider.”
“But that’s not fun,” Jimin complained, now walking next to the older Slytherin, “Stop worrying so much, hyung. We’re young and wild. We should be having fun.”
“A little difficult when you have a fucking mark on your arm that’s constantly reminding you that you are no longer property of yourself,” Yoongi hissed, his teeth poking out of his usually calmed mouth, “Jimin, how many times do I need to tell you? We can’t keep this little act. We can’t lie to ourselves like that, not after all the things we’ve done around here… We’re not allowed to have normal student lives and you know it. You can’t just expect me to pretend as if nothing has happened!”
“Hyung–”
“I say no. End of discussion,” Yoongi shook his head, resuming his walk in a hurried pace. He kept his eyes on the floor, shoulders high too. It was almost as if he did not want to be seen. He wanted to disappear under the green cloak that fell from his shoulders, just in the way that a turtle hides in its shell. He sighed and tried to ignore his friend’s objections as he continued to travel to potions class.
In reality, there were a number of reasons why Yoongi couldn’t fulfil his true wishes. There was a reason he had to keep silence, move with the shadows and push all of his weaknesses to the back of his head and chest; emotions. Despite being a wizard, he was human too. And human beings were weak, irrational, pathetic creatures that often allowed emotions to control them.
Yoongi had always had this clear. In order to succeed, in order to not get killed like an animal that belonged to a farm, he had to separate himself from everything that tied his mere existence to the chaotic nature of people. War approached as fast as the Hogwarts Express did on a perfect day… There wasn’t enough time to feel pity for himself, or for anybody else.
He had not chosen this. He had been forced to accept the life of a follower of a dark wizard. And he would simply have to accept it, as he had always done throughout life. Nothing had changed. Nothing would change. And that was why he chose to continue walking to class, alone; not truly caring if the weight he felt slowing him down, like a rock connected to his leg, made the rest fall as well… Jimin watched him go.
♞
He met him on the Slytherin common room for the first time a few years back. He had only been a child. Eleven years of age. With that big smile of his that was always accompanied by sparkling eyes, Jeon Jeongguk had been difficult to miss. He had never been the loudest of his group but he did stand out for the strange light that he carried around as if it were a pocket-size star.
A distinct feeling. A new smell in the atmosphere… Yoongi had never been able to place his finger on what made the air around the bright boy feel slightly lighter, sweeter. But he had formed a few theories throughout the years of coexistence. He couldn’t be sure about them, however, and preferred to not disclose them; rather, preferred to keep them wandering aimlessly inside the forest in his head.
When they met for the first time, things had not been grand. Almost out of tradition and fraternity, the first years (when Jeongguk had been one of them) were introduced to the rest of the students in the Slytherin house in a superficial and quick manner. A quiet and simple hello was exchanged between the two. Perhaps a small stare too. But Yoongi couldn’t be sure, he never was anymore. His memory failed him at times, possibly a consequence of the many times in the past year he had attempted to erase foggy images from his brain…
Yoongi did remember, however, that their first meeting had not been different from the one held between two indifferent strangers. But everything changed later on, at the beginning of Yoongi's fourth year at Hogwarts.
As September’s plants lost their fashionable coats made out of leaves and seeds, and the wind blew cooler through the mountains that hugged the castle, Yoongi began to notice certain things. Up to that point in his short and not-very-extraordinary life (he was used to the magical world and bored him at times) the Slytherin boy had not truly paid attention to the details surrounding the world. Everything to him had only been black and white. Green, sometimes. But mostly monochrome and reduced to nothing but inkless photographs.
He had never excelled at school, not so much, but still did well and passed with acceptable grades. He enjoyed to play quidditch, had actually played in the position of Keeper until last year; liked to stroll the empty corridors of the school; found satisfaction in napping on any surface of the common room and annoyed Jimin often throughout his days at school. Yoongi’s life had been quite average until the end of good times, when the Dark Lord chose to return. But it had been bland as well, at least, until he began to see Jeongguk.
The young Slytherin had always kept his head low during the first few years at Hogwarts. He had been teased quite a lot, generally by older students, who seemed to be unable to accept the idea that Muggle-borns could also belong to their house. To Yoongi’s limited knowledge at the time, Jeongguk had often mixed with others like him as a result. He had Gryffindor friends – quite a strange choice as well – and often met up with a Hufflepuff. Yoongi couldn’t recall their names but he was aware that all had come from the far-off lands of Asia too; just like his family did centuries ago.
The day it happened, the day Yoongi’s world gained a few extra shades of colour, the two Slytherins had been playing a quidditch match. Both had established positions in their house’s team; Yoongi with his Keeper role, and Jeongguk playing as a chaser. They competed against Ravenclaw, the first match of the year, and had been about to win; as long as the snitch was caught by a smooth, green-gloved hand. The game, not surprisingly, had not been the cleanest one. People pushed each other, imitating the movement of the eager Bludgers, and many lost balance and crashed against the frozen soil.
Yoongi had been doing all right. He managed to scare away the Quaffles that threatened to pass through his hoops and (participating in foul play too) directed them towards the opponent at times. This always succeeded in bewildering them, as well as making panic enter their heads. It brought Yoongi some satisfaction every time, which made him deliver a bent smile. However, his luck ran short on that match. Just before Yoongi had been able to catch a furious Quaffle, thrown by the captain of Ravenclaw with what he could only imagine being indignation mixed with frustration, his sight met darkness.
How it happened, Yoongi never knew. He had not been given the chance to stop and reflect on the poor tactics executed by his team, as he was thrown off his broom. But he did suspect the event to have been a product of a spell against him. Yoongi did only understand what occurred to him because of the voice of the commenter resonating in the air. If it had not been for this voice, Yoongi knew that he would have not been able to apply any context to his fall. He wouldn’t have even acknowledged this whole event; he was left stunned and unconscious the moment he reached the floor. However, before closing his eyes and letting deep sleep consume his whole self, the wizard did hear the wave of gasps that materialised in the air when the voice of the commenter announced that Jeongguk and he had dropped to the earth like scattering leaves.
The time he spent at the hospital wing had not been sufficient to make Yoongi miss any potions lectures (that was the class he disliked the most, curiously, the one in which he exceeded the best too). The 4th-year student, at the time, had only spent one night in that cold place along with other players who had been injured during the match. A migraine had attacked the insides of his bandaged skull and one of his wrists had been sprained when his body landed on the ground (as he had been told).
Jeongguk had been placed on the bed next to his in the infirmary. He had been sleeping when Yoongi awoke later that same day when the sun began to shrink at the horizon and the flames on the sky were tamed with the arrival of nightfall. When he had been allowed to see Jimin again, the young Slytherin told Yoongi about how Jeongguk ended receiving most of the impact when their bodies hit the floor. They had rolled together like barrels filled with butterbeer, that floated in the sky, until their senseless limbs came to a stop near the tower where Professors watched the match. Yoongi had ended lying on top of Jeongguk on that occasion; being protected from the force that the collision created.
It was a miracle that the boy had not broken his spine or any other bone, for the record. He simply received scratches and purple bruises, but not any other apparent injury. He had been knocked out, yes, but that was considered lucky in the realm of such an extreme sport.
Yoongi, after admiring the strange situation, chose to return to the world of sleep and dreams. Telling himself that he was not hungry, despite the protests of his stomach, he allowed his senses to be engulfed by the serenity of slumber once again.
He woke up in the middle of the night, or perhaps early morning, next. This time, however, he had been greeted by the burning presence of a fever. His eyes felt heavy with heat and the pounding in his head, like a heart that runs ahead, had only increased. Yoongi groaned – once he had been fully aware of his surroundings – at feeling a cool piece of cloth being placed against his forehead. It felt nice, he confessed to himself.
Unlike any image his mind could have created in the short seconds between waking up and opening his eyes, Yoongi would have never been able to picture Jeon Jeongguk taking care of him. The boy, under the moonlight’s splendour, worked silently with the agility of mice. His hands kept moving around. First, they submerged under the water that a container by Yoongi’s head held. Then, they creased another cloth that the water hid and constantly kept changing the material that kept fresh the elder’s skin. He did not say anything, neither did Yoongi. At least, not until Yoongi raised his hand and softly touched Jeongguk’s right wrist.
“Madam Pomfrey is not here right now,” the younger boy explained once his wide eyes had recovered from the fright. He spoke in their native tongue too, with a delicate tone, which Yoongi found quite nice to hear in the silent atmosphere.
“And you chose to replace her?” Yoongi asked, his voice barely a whisper. His mouth felt as dry as a dessert that had not seen rain in aeons. Noticing this quickly, Jeongguk grabbed an empty mug that rested on the nightstand next to him and with the help of the first spell that came to his mind – aguamenti – filled the container to the top. He offered it to Yoongi, then, choosing to trust that his silence and actions would provide an answer to the question asked. The other Slytherin, a second of hesitation later, pushed himself away from the mattress (releasing another grunt as he did so) and received the mug. He gulped down the liquid in a way that made it seem as if he had never drunk anything in his life before.
Jeongguk continued to watch him. He remained still, like a statue, as he observed the elder’s Adam’s Apple shifting up and down with the movement of the water in his throat. He only dared to move again when Yoongi returned to lie down on the bed, and simply to adjust the fabric that stuck to his forehead. The elder Slytherin, in the meantime and with hooded eyes, was able to notice the bandages around Jeongguk’s right thigh. A red spot laid in the middle of the white, cotton kingdom. He appeared to have suffered from a minor gash but nothing more than that…
“Thank you,” the elder ended up uttering a moment before greeting complete darkness again, before he submerged in a world without light, “You didn’t have to.”
The last thing Yoongi saw was Jeongguk’s silver smile.
♞
Almost out of a habit, Yoongi still questioned the reasons Jeongguk had helped him that day in the infirmary. He had never done anything particularly good or kind to him. Yet, the younger boy still chose to help him despite being injured and bleeding… He was, certainly, a peculiar Slytherin; not like the ones Yoongi accustomed to meet up with.
Ever since this event, Yoongi’s heart started to beat a little bit faster with each passing day he saw Jeongguk walking around the corridors of the school. They never spoke. They did acknowledge the presence of each other occasionally, with a nod or polite smile, but never exchanged anything more than simple “Hello”s on the way to class. They interacted more on quidditch practice, but simply as part of training. Jeongguk stayed glued to one of his friend’s side on these occasions and Yoongi never, truly, spoke to anybody else during these meetings; complicating the execution of their interactions.
At one point, regardless of always having had the intention or wish to talk to Jeongguk, Yoongi simply gave up. But his heart and chemicals circulating his body did not. With the end and arrival of each new year, Yoongi’s chest hurt even more whenever his eyes met Jeongguk. He grew taller each September and became cuter too. He never failed in making Yoongi’s heart flip dramatically between his ribs, particularly late at night; where he could stay in bed and contemplate the beauty within Jeongguk for hours with no end.
Tonight was one of those nights. Yoongi was unable to find comfort in the mysterious world of dreams, too busy fantasizing with reality to put his eager mind at ease. He knew he should not be doing such a thing. Yoongi wanted to forget about him, force the luring impulse to the back of his mind and forever bury the things Jeongguk made his heart feel. Yoongi didn’t like emotions. They were messy, a weakness, something which could strengthen torment and reduce man to nothing but a puppet. A doll, he thought, attached to strings that a master controlled… He had enough with being his parents’ life-long experiment. He didn’t need the Dark Lord to take advantage of his frail sentiments. He didn’t want the Dark Lord touching Jeongguk.
The truth was that Yoongi did not and had never disliked Muggle-borns, contrary to many of his fellow Slytherins. Despite coming from a pure-blood family, Yoongi had never felt superior to those witches and wizards who belonged to other social groups. His family, of course, behaved differently. The prejudice that controlled their lives never reached Yoongi. He wasn’t blind by hatred or false faith. He had always had it clear in his mind that he was no better than any other magical being around the world. He had a noble and tender heart, according to the wand that had chosen him back at Ollivander's shop all of those years ago; a trait which had left a mark deeper than the one he carried on his arm.
When midnight approached, and Yoongi realised that he would not be sleeping that night, the 6th-year student chose to get out of bed and went down to the common room. His steps were heavy, loaded with fatigue, and the world around him was covered by a thin mist. His sight had fogged like the windows of the Hogwarts’ express before winter break.
A tender fire danced in the empty room. It created a cosy, yellow light, which contrasted with the green furniture scattered around. The colour, for a second, made Yoongi think about Gryffindor common room but quickly discarded the thought with a shake to his head. Almost mocking himself, as he couldn’t understand the reason he had thought about the ancient enemy (house rivalry was quite strong), Yoongi laughed quietly and moved to seat on the emerald couch that faced the fireplace. But he stopped himself just in time and avoided throwing his weight on the resting figure that curled on that same place.
At a closer and more careful study, Yoongi realised that it had been no one else than the boy that dominated and occupied his late-night thoughts and imaginations. Jeongguk was curled on the sofa, his hands under his cheek, as tiny breaths fell on top of his pink lips. Someone had had the decency to throw a blanket over his figure. Poorly, as it only covered a section of his legs, but the intention was what counted, Yoongi thought with a discontent (they should have been kind enough to spread the blanket thoroughly). Opened books and used quills laid by the feet of the sofa. Blue ink dripped into a piece of yellow parchment, only by luck missing the scribbles that the younger Slytherin had created prior to falling asleep; or so did Yoongi imagine.
He hesitated for a second. In the dead of the night, with the burning wood at the back of the room, dancing on Jeongguk’s eyes, Yoongi felt the urge to touch him. He looked at peace, unlike the world in which he lived. His face was relaxed, empty from any discomfort and thought that could have weighed him down. He looked like a porcelain doll, one which Yoongi wanted to hold.
He let his hand hover over the other’s head for a second. Jeongguk’s hair, spongy and dark, lured him into the depths of this mysterious yet comforting territory. It was like being in front of a dark hole. So many possibilities ahead, but uncountable dangers too. Life, in a way; where uncertainty ruled and people were unable to completely say that the sun would rise the following day.
With a soft sigh leaving his lips, Yoongi allowed his hand to drop slightly lower; until it encountered a section of cotton cells. The elder Slytherin’s touch remained there for a frozen second, in which he had even stopped breathing. Jeongguk continued to sleep, nevertheless. He never gained knowledge about this night, which was both a gift and hell for Yoongi, and continued to sleep through the elder’s caresses. The silver-haired let a finger curl around a lock, like a snake hugging a tree, before he made it slip from his grip and watched as it returned to its original position. With a shake to his head – eyes closing to the world – Yoongi exhaled a constraint breath and took a step back, away from the sleeping boy.
His face, although neutral to any stranger, conveyed a battle of thoughts and passionate responses. He was torn between options, believes and words in the mouths of others; never in his own. A part of him did not want to stop. One side of him wanted to keep petting Jeongguk as he slept, to watch over him like a loyal dog to assure no cloud would dare to stop on top of his head. But the more rational part of himself, the section of his brain that feared the results of such an impulsive choice, frighten him away.
He couldn’t have him. He would never belong to Jeongguk either, despite the wishes his whole body implored to the celestial bodies in the darkest of times. But it cost nothing to dream and imagine, perhaps just a few tugs to the strings that kept his heart in place and defeated yells that pillows never failed to absorb and transport to the depth of the mind during sleep. Yoongi could continue doing that, he tried to tell himself. Yet, he struggled to picture how much more this act would be preserved firmly in his mind; a sculpture that was deteriorating and cracking under the pressure of time.
Before turning away, Yoongi chose to pick up the bottle of ink that been knocked over, like royal blood, on the parchment and floor. With a quiet spell (he never left bed without his wand) he made the dots disperse like watercolours on a blank canvas until the particles had evaporated to the atmosphere by the heat produced by the restless fireplace. He covered Jeongguk’s body in the way that should have been done in the first place and walked back to his room, alone, once again; without being aware of the boy that shifted in his sleep and dreamt about the smell of wood and old parchment as he explored the strange place that was the mind.
♞
Yoongi cursed, loudly, when he realised one of his books had been missing from the stack he kept inside his old trunk. One day after school, when the room he shared with a few other boys had been as vacant as the library on holidays, Yoongi sat in front of his useless box. He stared hard at it, trying to retrieve from his memory the image of the one thing, he was certain, he missed. But he couldn’t, quite well, place his finger on it.
He counted his books one more time and confirmed that one was missing from the pile. He scanned through the titles of each textbook he had in his possession before jumping to his feet while exclaiming in satisfaction, realisation striking his mind. However, as soon as he remembered which classroom he would need to visit to regain possession of his (over-priced) book, the rare smile that had poked out of his cold features faltered. Potions, Yoongi thought in defeat; already raising a white flag and considering asking his mum to buy him a new copy. Although not as cruel with Slytherins, Snape tended to over-exaggerate with the minuscule details. He was a man who paid attention to features that were invisible to the common eye. The way in which one carried the school uniform, the way in which one controlled their movements when performing the art of potions… Snape took notice of everything he could engrave and store in his limitless mind for future punishment.
Yoongi could already picture the professor looking at him with a cold, dull and toneless air when he entered his room and explained his current mistakes. He was not looking forward to such a magnificent greet and meet. But he would need to start moving unless he wished for any first-year student to steal the textbook as soon as classes resumed the following morning.
He passed Jimin on the way down the stairs, as the other went up to his own room. They exchanged lazy high-fives as they walked, not saying anything that else than “Snape,” and"Good luck,” on their ways up or down. The common room, lively today, erupted with laughter and loud conversations whilst Yoongi slithered away, between the shadows and bodies that blocked the way. Then, he continued to turn to one side and moved straight through the dungeons until he came across Snape’s classroom.
The student lifted a fist and prepared himself to automatically knock. However, before he could have even touched the timber, the door opened with a violent (but not surprising) swing. That was how Jeongguk, then, almost ran into the older Slytherin.
The younger boy halted as soon as he noticed the presence of another body, gasping in the process and dropping his textbook on the cold floor. He bent to pick it up, quickly. Yoongi noticed a warm crimson shade on his cheeks once he had returned to his original position, eyes darting to a fixed spot on the ground.
Snape, who had been hiding in the shadows, behind Jeongguk, made his presence known by loudly clearing the back of his throat. Yoongi’s gaze moved to him, an emotionless mask in front of both of their faces.
“Ah, Mr Min. What a coincidence,” the professor uttered in a way that made it seem as if the student’s apparition had been nothing but perfectly calculated. Yoongi began to doubt, but was not given the sufficient time to speculate, “Wouldn’t you say so, Mr Jeon?”
Jeongguk simply nodded, said nothing else and kept studying the patterns that were under his feet as if they were the most fascinating things. Yoongi spared him a look, but regret filled his blood vessels as soon as his heart begun to stutter like a nervous child. He stared at Snape instead.
“Professor?” he chose to deliver a suggested question instead, wondering what could have been going around Snape’s cold, clever mind. Rather than replying, the professor offered an item which he had been hiding in his dark cloak by extending his arm to Yoongi. The silver-haired didn’t take too long to recognise the item he had come to reclaim and reached for it as soon as he had understood. However, Snape pulled the book closer to his body and away from Yoongi, obliging the student’s hand to miss the object.
“Not so fast,” he said just as he took notice of Jeongguk, who had begun to slip away from the two, and pulled him closer by grasping the younger’s cloak, “You too, Jeon.”
Jeongguk immediately stopped. Yoongi blinked, still confused.
“Mind explaining why have you been so distracted lately, Mr Min?” Snape questioned, not easing his grip on Jeongguk. But there had been something else on his tone, apart from the plain question he had uttered. There was a challenge, almost; as if Snape was trying to make Yoongi crack under pressure, make him confess about a crime he had not (or maybe had) committed.
“What do you mean, Professor?”
“Oh. I am sure you do not need to be reminded of all the mistakes you’ve done in my class this past month… I am surprised I have not yet taken any points from you or taken other measures to correct your behaviour.”
Yoongi set his jaw, trying his hardest to conceal any irritability that threatens to surge up within him, like a gas bubble that explodes when it reaches the surface of a river made of magma. He breathed, instead, and calmed his pulsating fists. A quick glance to Jeongguk helped him find peace again.
“I apologise, Professor. School has been tiring these past few days. It was never my intention to disrespect or offend you in any way. And I would be happy to do anything to compensate for my actions.”
“Interesting…” Snape thought for a second before he was reminded of the presence of Jeongguk by his side. He released the boy, which drew a quiet sigh from him simultaneously. Yoongi was tempted to reach for him as well, but refrained from acting on impulse, and stayed glued where he was standing. Snape watched them with what could have been curiosity but Yoongi doubted the professor ever experienced those type of desires, “I know how you could pay for your wrongs, Mr Min. You see, Mr Jeon has been struggling with potions class for the past few weeks and I thought that a tutor couldn’t bring him any harm…”
“You want me to tutor him, Professor?” Yoongi asked, his face failing to hide his disguised opinions and emotions regarding the subject.
“Oh, yes. Perfect,” Snape crossed his arms in front of his chest, a hand came to rest under his chin, “Thank you for offering, Mr Min. I knew I could count on you for the completion of this task.”
“But–”
“Two lessons a week,” he exclaimed, turning on his heels and stalking further into his classroom but not before throwing a potions book at Yoongi. The student caught it in the air but did almost miss midst the tragedy occurring in his head, “I am expecting at least that amount of sessions per week. I will be monitoring this with Mr Jeon and I expect the best of results. Now, get out of my sight.”
And with these words muttered, the door closed with a loud bang and obliged the students to jump back to not be smashed by the wood. Jeongguk did not say anything else, he simply provided a short nod and stalked away, almost as if he had been running away from Yoongi. The silver-haired groaned, threw his textbook against a wall, and cursed in his native language. However, he regretted his actions a second later and chose to go back for the book before deciding to march towards the gardens. He needed a nap.
♞
“Wait, wait,” Jimin said between laughs, tears on his eyes, “You’re telling me that Snape is making you teach Jeongguk potions?”
Yoongi, not knowing how many times he had already done this, nodded and continued to nibble at a roasted piece of chicken that he had been trying to devour for the past five minutes. Jimin, however, wasn’t letting him. He wanted to know about this new scandal at the expense of everything else (including Yoongi’s good health).
“Isn’t that supposed to be his job, though?” Jimin questioned, almost falling on top of the girl next to him as he continued to giggle. He was shoved back by her, but the content boy did not seem to have noticed. Yoongi sighed.
“Supposed to be. But I think he’s doing this on purpose…”
“How so?”
“My textbook,” Yoongi said after having (finally) swallowed down some chicken, “I’m sure he took it from me while I wasn’t paying attention. You know me well. I never leave my things lying around the castle. That’s why I thought it was strange that my book had disappeared.”
“But why would he take it?” Jimin questioned, sipping on his drink. Yoongi suspected it to be tea.
“My theory is that he had everything planned since the start. Jeongguk had already been there by the time I reached his classroom. I think he had been speaking to Snape about something related to potions, possibly connected to his performance in class. Anyway, I think Snape is trying to keep me away from–” he cleared his throat and lowered the volume of his voice to a mere whisper, “From completing the tasks You Know Who is making us do.”
“So, do you admit that you believe me now?”
“Yeah, yeah. I actually asked my family about Snape the other day and they confirmed that he’s on our side… But I’m still suspicious of him. I am sure he knows about the little missions we are given from time to time. And he’s doing nothing to ease the burden. He’s doing the opposite.”
“Are you sure you’re not the one who is exaggerating now?” Jimin question, taking a bite from a carrot.
“I’m not. Think about it. When has Snape ever showed interest in wanting to help his students to reach success? Never. Not even when it comes to our house. He might be less harsh with us but, at the end of the day, he doesn’t give a shit about anybody alive.”
“I guess you’re right, but have you considered–”
Jimin wasn’t able to finish his question. A sweet voice cut him off at that same second.
“Umm. Sorry to interrupt,” Jeon Jeongguk said, nervously fidgeting with his dark cloak. Yoongi almost choked on food when he recognised the owner of the voice, and wiped his mouth with a napkin before looking at the younger boy, “I was just wondering if I could speak to you, Yoongi-ssi?”
Jimin chuckled when he heard this. Yoongi rolled his eyes at his friend and threw the napkin he had used at him.
“Don’t call me that, it makes me feel like an old man,” Yoongi shook his head, trying his hardest to not sound rude, “Hyung is fine.”
“Alright,” Jeongguk said, “May I speak to you, Yoongi hyung?”
Yoongi did not miss the suggestive look that Jimin dedicated him, nor the faint traces of a smirk that rested on the corners of his mouth. He ignored all of these signs, either way, and scooted to the right; providing space for the younger student to take. Jeongguk hesitated for a second but chose to sit down at the end.
“Hey, Gguk,” Jimin greeted, slyly. Yoongi was tempted to throw more food at him, all to rub that expression away from his face.
“Hi, Jimin.”
“Feel free to ignore him,” Yoongi told him, earning all of the attention of the younger boy, “What may I do for you?”
“Ask him on a date, Gguk,” Jimin suggested in a whisper which had not been sufficiently quiet for Yoongi to ignore. The elder almost growled at his friend, his hand moving to grip a green apple that was near his reach. But, when his eyes returned to Jeongguk for a brief second and he noticed his flushed ears, the elder chose to reserve his energy for something better.
“As I said, ignore him. He doesn’t exist, okay?”
Jeongguk laughed a little at that, especially after Jimin complained loudly with a “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I wanted to apologise for what happened earlier today,” the younger one said, crystalline eyes shining with the mysteries of the evening skies, “I also wanted to tell you that you don’t have to tutor me if you don’t want to. I have friends who have offered to do this and I could just lie and tell Professor Snape that you’re the one teaching me instead.”
“Nonsense,” the elder claimed, making Jimin’s eyebrows lift in surprise, “I can tutor you. I don’t mind. And you don’t need to apologize for anything, Jeongguk.”
“Are you sure? You looked a little uncomfortable so I thought–”
“It’s fine,” he assured, “I was just mad at Professor Snape for another reason. But I would like to teach you.”
“Really?” the younger one asked, being unable to hide his excitement as he jumped back to his feet.
“Sure,” the elder shrugged, pretending to no longer be interested in the subject, “When would you like to begin?”
“I’m free tomorrow after school.”
“Cool. See you later, then.”
“Thank you, hyung,” Jeongguk said, bowing slightly before he said goodbye to Jimin too. He stalked away after this, almost skipping in the same way that a rabbit hops in the meadow. Yoongi observed him, watched as he went away, until his figure crossed tall doors and disappeared from the Great Hall in the blink of an eye.
“You’re a mess,” Jimin said, softly, as he stole some chicken from Yoongi’s plate, “But you did better than I expected you to do. At least, you didn’t confess on the spot.”
The elder shushed him by throwing at him a silent and killer glare. Jimin simply smiled, wide mouth displaying all of his teeth, before taking another bite from his friend’s meal.
♞
Lessons with Jeongguk after school did not end up being a complete disaster. At the start, although difficult to contain the urges he had to be physically close to the younger man, Yoongi managed to maintain a safe distance between the two.
The sessions began simple and easy. They met at the library on Mondays and Thursdays to go through any lectures that Jeongguk could have not understood in depth in the week. They reviewed his notes and studied the theory from the thick volumes available at the library. They did not speak too much either, not at the beginning, and simply hid at a corner of the room (away from other students and Madam Pince, who always silenced them with angry blows from her lips when they breathed too loudly).
The first weeks were slightly awkward as a result. They only held conversations related to the subject they studied and, when they were not required to say anything else, immersed in an agonising silence that could have driven anybody insane; without the need of a forbidden spell. How they managed to cope with the tense atmosphere, Yoongi couldn’t say. However, they somehow managed to live through it and meet any other day in the library again.
As time continued to flow (sometimes quick, sometimes slow) the stale air around the two Slytherins started to lose density and allowed them to take deep breaths. Sometimes, Jeongguk would gather the courage to ask Yoongi about something that was not connected to academics; rather, to his personal life. In this manner, the younger student commenced diverse conversations surrounding topics of interest for both of them. When they took breaks from the thick books and smudged notes, the two Slytherins talked about the one thing they knew had in common; quidditch. The two were fans of the Irish team, they discovered, but disagree on who should be granted the merit of best player. Jeongguk was convinced that Aidan Lynch, despite almost having cost Ireland the Quidditch Cup once upon a time, was the best seeker out there. Yoongi disagreed. For him, Barry Ryan deserved the recognition even more.
Their conversations mutated into something else as they grew accustomed to each other’s presence. These were never too private, just friendly and amusing. At one point, because of how much time they would spend laughing by their reserved corner, Madam Pince kicked them out of her realm; fumes coming out of her nose and ears as she condemned their loudness. When this occurred, at least two months of tutoring sessions had already passed. By this point in time, Yoongi had come to accept that – although he would never be able to be with Jeongguk in the way he wanted to be – he could, at least, form an innocent friendship with the younger boy. That would suffice, Yoongi told himself every passing day he saw Jeongguk smile. But, deep in his mind, he knew that he wasn’t fooling anybody; particularly himself. His feelings for Jeongguk remained intact or perhaps grew more everyday…
However, whenever he thought of the things he was obliged to do at night – when the castle slept and Jimin and himself were the only souls up – any desires to tell him the truth vanished into thin air: like dew when the sun greets a new day. It was torture, it was hell. It was a blessing, it was heaven. At least, he could still enjoy the younger’s presence from a short distance. As long as he didn’t get too attached, as long as neither dared to cross the thin line between friendship and… As long as they didn’t do that, they would be fine in a world that was collapsing, like the bricks of a shaky building; slowly falling, one by one, until ash manages to cover it all.
Yet… after having spent sixteen years of his life in this cruel world, Yoongi should have discovered, long ago, that things never went in the way one planned them to occur.
It took place on a cold, winter evening. The students had chosen to sneak into a vacant classroom and take with them a few ingredients a friendly house elf had managed to steal from Snape’s personal collection of elements. Yoongi had learnt, some time ago, that Jeongguk was friends with the elves working at Hogwarts. He was constantly travelling to the kitchens for food, especially late at night. He even took Yoongi there; once, when they had been craving for sweets after a tiring tutoring session.
They were practising the Draught of Peace potion, a liquid which had the powers to relieve any feelings of anxiety and agitation. It was an advanced potion. Dangerous too, as it could cause an irreversible effect of forever slumber if executed poorly. Jeongguk had been nervous to practice it, but also excited and thrilled. Yoongi assured him that he would be alright, that he would do good. Jeongguk learnt fast and was almost as good as Yoongi now, which was fascinating, considering the limited time he had been given to improve.
At the final stages of the brewing of the potion, when Jeongguk had stirred the mixture enough times (seven in total, clockwise and anti-clockwise), and lowered the flames under his cauldron to apply the final ingredient – hellebore – Yoongi couldn’t help himself to notice the way in which some of his hair fell on top of his eyes. Too lost in the task to notice such a burden, Yoongi chose to help him and pushed his hair back. Jeongguk did not seem to pay attention to this either, not until his potion shone with the silver light of the moon and sat still on the cauldron as it was left to simmer for a remaining seven minutes. After all of this occured, Jeongguk dared to look up at Yoongi again.
His cheeks were painted red. Yoongi didn’t know if because of the heat emitted from the potion or something else. But his mind failed when it came to considering other options, particularly when he had Jeongguk in front of him; looking at him as if he were the only other wizard in the whole world.
“It worked,” he said, softly. He was standing just a few centimetres away from Yoongi. Their shoulders were touching, their noses shared the same air… “Thank you.”
“I did nothing,” the elder said, smiling a little (despite having to keep up his cold reputation), “You were the one who did everything.”
“I would have failed without your help,” Jeongguk said, bumping his shoulder against Yoongi’s. The elder chuckled at this, “So, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, then,” Yoongi said, “You will now be able to impress Snape with your skills. You don’t need me anymore.”
“I think I still do,” Jeongguk said, eyelashes fluttering in the dim room, which was only illuminated by the very brilliant ends of their wands. There were not supposed to be out of bed, it was past curfew. Their every movement had to be stealthy as a result; as careful and silent as a ghost. But all of this only added to the thrill of the night, very different from the frighting buzz Yoongi had been experiencing these past days on his arms and legs. He felt at peace, just a little; almost as if he did not have any worry in his mind.
“I’m sure you don’t,” Yoongi tried to argue again but was stopped when he felt the younger’s breath falling on his face.
They were so close, their faces so near the air between their noses felt stuffy and heavy; intoxicating. Jeongguk’s eyes were inviting, his lips were tempting. They were full, imitating the flesh of a red apple. Yoongi wondered if they would be as sweet as one.
He had wanted to stop, knowing that if he dared to take a bite, if he dared to try, there wouldn’t be an escape for him. But his body disobeyed his commands, his arm rebelling first at choosing to wrap around the younger’s waist. The older student brought him even closer, making Jeongguk stumble and obliging him to seek balance by placing his hands on Yoongi’s shoulder. However, he did not battle against the force that Yoongi exerted. Instead, he leaned forward, allowing his nose to collide with the elder’s cheek as he, then, rubbed it softly against the tender skin.
They stayed like this for some time, getting drunk in the foreign feeling that their actions produced, chemicals running wild in their brains. Little by little, their faces began to shift again. They twitched, nervously and almost frightfully, until pairs of lips had the first contact. At the start, it was a simple brush, as delicate as the touch of a feather, that they repeated until their mouths chose to properly press against the other. Jeongguk stiffened a little when Yoongi started to capture his lips with his own; squeezing tighter and not releasing them for a few seconds. But he relaxed quickly, melting in Yoongi’s arms, as the slow kiss turned even slower and softer; so soft that it made Yoongi believe he was dreaming all over again.
♞
When they separated and hid any clues that could have given them away, the two Slytherins chose to walk back to the common room; hand in hand. Jeongguk was unable to look at Yoongi. His eyes remained on the floor as his flared cheeks shone like two fireflies in the dark corridors of the castle. His grip on the elder, however, was firm and present; as if he were telling Yoongi that he was right next to him. That he would not disappear.
Yoongi, in all sincerity, did not know what to feel. Part of his heart danced in golden glory and success. The other part mourned for the two of them, guilt slowly consuming and destroying the previous happiness he had felt. He wanted this. Yoongi wanted to not feel ashamed of what he had done. But the very truth was that he almost regretted the kiss. Yes. He did like Jeongguk very much and did not want him kissing other boys or girls. But he also had to remember his origins, where he came from. Ultimately, what he was and the danger he represented; both to Jeongguk and the rest of the world…
Nevertheless, Yoongi was unable to keep his mind objective, not right now. It was impossible when Jeongguk made them stop, every meter they covered, simply to leave a kiss on a new part of Yoongi’s face. It was very hard to think about the threats he presented when Jeongguk, with his apple lips and starry eyes, kissed him tenderly in the middle of the corridors; for all the paintings to witness.
At one point, in the middle of another sweet peck, the pair heard a feline’s angry miaowing and quickly broke away. When they did this, they were able to see the outline of Mrs Norris’s shadow. She stared at them from the end of the corridor, to where they had been heading, before hissing and showing her pointy fangs at the two.
Yoongi cursed at that damn cat before pulling Jeongguk towards the opposite direction. They began to run just before Filch, Hogwarts’ caretaker, materialised in front of them. They were still on one of the top floors, too far away from their common room and too far away from any assured protection. They would have to rely on another classroom.
When Filch’s voice had been too clear, enough to reach their ears, Yoongi unlocked the first door he stumbled across and pushed Jeongguk inside. The two turned off their wands and pressed their bodies against a rocky wall. They heard steps getting nearer, two voices complaining loudly, before they paused for a tense second (in which both students held their breaths) and later left with even more remorse.
Sighs filled the room in the same way that a pleasant opera bounces from the walls of a theatre during a concert. However, the peaceful atmosphere was broken the moment Yoongi chose to illuminate their surroundings again. Jeongguk almost screamed when he saw it, but the elder had been quicker and covered his mouth before any sound could escape from it.
A cloaked figure stared at them from a distance. It was completely covered, from head to toe, and used a mask that looked like death itself. This one was copper in colour, had its mouth sewed with arrows, high cheekbones and small eyes. Cravings around the mask could also be observed. These ones looked like oil tears, falling darkly from both eyes. Death Eater.
Yoongi’s blood went cold. He couldn’t understand. Why were they here? How had they managed to enter the castle? Had Malfoy–
The mysterious figure, before Yoongi could have been able to form a conclusion, raised its arm with determination; as if it had been preparing to cast a spell. Jeongguk, next to him, became as and cold as a stone. His eyes were wide, his mouth gaped, and his grip on Yoongi had gone loose. He shut his eyes tightly when he saw green sparkles beginning to be released by the opponent's wand. And that was when Yoongi chose to react and jumped in front of the younger boy; him facing the Death Eater now.
The elder had been about to demand the Dark Lord’s follower to stop, was even willing to show his own mark if it meant he could save Jeongguk. But, there had been no need. As soon as he faced the mysterious figure, this one shifted and morphed into a grey mass; just before exploding with a rain of yellow and orange. Fire filled Yoongi’s vision, making him go completely still. And that was when he realised what they were dealing with…
“Riddikulus,” Jeongguk screamed from behind Yoongi, pointing at the Boggart that had adopted the shape of an uncontrolled fire. This one extinguished as soon as the younger one cast the spell, reducing the tall flames into little sparkles; absurd in comparison to the monster that had stared at Yoongi before.
The Boggart left them after this, escaping through an open window and jumping into the night; leaving the two Slytherins by a corner of the room, where they held each other tightly until the fright produced by their biggest fears left their hearts and bloodstreams.
♞
Jeon Jeongguk’s biggest fear was a Death Eater. Yoongi was unable to shake the thought from his mind, not even three weeks after the event.
He thought about this on a daily basis, wrapping his arms around himself as he moved with the darkness and evaded everybody who wanted to speak to him; except for Jimin. He had shared his worries with his friend, as well as the other things that had occurred that night, including the kiss.
“I still think you should talk to him, hyung,” Jimin told him one night, when both had been sitting in the filled common room. They spoke in whispers, were close enough to do this, as they tried to hide their conversation between the loud voices of the other students, “Have you seen him lately? He looks so sad, hyung. You’re hurting him.”
The elder had started to ignore Jeongguk again. He did not even spare him a glace whenever they crossed paths. He simply looked straight, ignoring the eyes that always sought Yoongi’s and wanted more from him.
“I would hurt him more if I chose to be with him,” he argued, scanning the pages of an old book he held in his hands. He realised it was his old potions book, the one he had used to tutor Jeongguk. Ever since that night, they had also stopped their weekly sessions… The younger one did not need him anymore, that had been left clear when he managed to brew Draught of Peace by himself.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. I would be risking our lives even more. Imagine how the Dark Lord would react if he were to hear that one of his followers was fooling around with a mud–”
“Don’t, hyung,” Jimin interrupted him quickly, “You don’t mean it.”
Yoongi sighed, closing his book and throwing it to the floor. He was tired. Tired of all of this.
“I’m going to sleep,” he announced, standing up and moving away from his friend. He needed to be alone.
♞
A month after this ridiculous behaviour, Jeongguk had had enough. He became bored of Yoongi’s little act, of him ignoring his existence and pushing aside everything they had done that night. He knew he deserved better, Yoongi would have agreed, but he still chose to confront the elder rather than to give up so easily. He was a determined boy. Everything he wanted, he got.
That was why Yoongi encountered him one night in the astronomy tower, late at night. That had been one of his many hiding places in the castle. He came here only a few hours prior to sunrise, when he needed time and space to think and submerge in his solitude. He came up here when he needed privacy, when he needed to cry. But, that night, he was unable to do any of those things (well, perhaps, only one).
Jeongguk grasped, almost desperately, Yoongi’s green sleeve; pleading him to not go with his wild orbs and sad tears. They stood under the stars and the full moon, away from everybody else. It was just the two of them; like it had been some weeks ago.
Yoongi refused to look at the younger boy, keeping his head low and allowing his silver hair – which emanated the same light as the rock above their heads – to fall on top of his own eyes. Jeongguk tried again, tugging the cloth with more force.
“Let me go, Jeongguk,” were the first words Yoongi said to him after weeks, still failing to look at him.
“I don’t want to,” he said back, shaking his head, and tried again, “Please, hyung. Look at me.”
Sighing, and coming to the conclusion that Jeongguk would not let him go, the elder Slytherin chose to look at him for a second. Their eyes met, for the briefest forever, as Yoongi asked him “Happy now?” with a dry and cutting growl.
Rather than responding, the younger one nodded and took a tempting step forward. Yoongi took one backwards, trying to conserve the gap between their bodies, but Jeongguk, once again, was persistent. He covered the space that had been separating them with decisive steps until his nose brushed against Yoongi’s, forcing the elder to continue looking at him. And Yoongi, this time, did not look away when their lips touched in a tender and ghostly greeting; like a friend who touches another one after years without any encounter.
Yoongi’s heart stopped at this, suddenly being unable to cope with Jeongguk’s boldness. It was clear what he wanted, he was transparent with such a subject. Even his eyes, that looked so tenderly but hid rage behind, told him so; him.
“Why are you running away from me?” Jeongguk asked him softly, tracing the shape of the elder’s arm with exploring fingertips. The feeling tickled a little, almost made it itch. But Yoongi quite liked to be touched like this.
“It’s for your own good,” he said back, earning a soft scoff from Jeongguk; who shook his head in disbelief.
“I can take care of myself,” he said, again so close to his lips. He teased the elder a little more and placed a tiny kiss on his cheek. He smiled, in victory, when he felt Yoongi’s arms finally moving to hold him as well. The elder couldn’t contain himself, not when he had already had a bite and liked it too much.
“I’m not good to you,” Yoongi said softly, caressing the younger’s face with the back of his hand. He was being tender and careful; actions contrasting with the words he had uttered. How was Jeongguk supposed to believe him?
“You have a good heart.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” Jeongguk smiled a little, the fire in his eyes being tamed by something else; a gentler feeling.
“You’re wrong. If I did, if I was a good person, I wouldn’t be–”
“A Death Eater?” Jeongguk finished for him, making Yoongi’s heart skip a beat. His mouth, suddenly, was filled with the thorns of a rose. He tasted metal, iron; blood.
“How…” he couldn’t find his words. He simply stared at Jeongguk, who still looked at him with fascination and adoration. There was no fear, not a single sign that would indicate hatred. It was so bizarre…
“That… Doesn’t really matter. I figured it by myself, no one else knows,” Jeongguk told him, brushing away the locks that had fallen on Yoongi’s face, “Is that the reason why you have been ignoring me?”
“I’m a monster. You’re scared of me,” Yoongi simply said, wanting to look away but finding himself unable to do such a thing.
“I’m not.”
“But the Boggart–”
“The Boggart,” Jeongguk said slowly, placing his forehead against Yoongi’s, “Only showed part of my biggest fear. I don’t fear Death Eaters. I fear Death, and losing the people who matter to me.”
Yoongi couldn’t say anything else. He watched the younger boy silently, not being able to give meaning to the words he had uttered. He was distracting him, with his lovely skin under the moonlight and soft, lulling, voice that was prettier than a mermaid’s songs. He looked unreal, like he had always appeared, even up close. His imperfections – like the deep scar on one of his cheeks – were perfect too.
“You still don’t get it, don’t you?” Jeongguk asked, barely in a whisper, as Yoongi shook his head and made his silver hair dance in the air. At this, the younger one giggled before he sighed another answer, “Expecto patronum.”
As if it had not been enough already, light – stronger than the moon’s – filled the space they shared in this astronomy room. From the tip of his wand, a nebula made of blues and whites exploded in front of a pair of eyes; making the shape of a wild animal be constructed from a silver mist. A Bengal tiger. Yoongi’s Bengal tiger.
Both boys watched as the tiger walked around them, almost as if he were about to feed on them, before a long tail curled around their legs and knotted them together; as if it were saying, forever. Yoongi kissed him, then, despite all the reasons he had to not let himself further fall into the feeling that made his heart rush. He held Jeongguk against his chest and Jeongguk intertwined his fingers with his hair. And both kissed and kissed until the very first rays of dawn fell on their connected lips.
Yoongi ignored his aching arm; the heavy reminder of what his life had been until now. No control. But this was starting to change. He had just taken his first, autonomous, decision. And would be taking more.
Jeongguk was just the beginning. He was the first choice of many more to come, he told himself; as both boys kissed and two Bengal tigers watched them peacefully.