Archive of Our Own ^beta

“all i’m trying to say,” taehyung is saying when jeongguk gets to the table, sliding onto the bench and reaching for the plate of perfectly buttered toast in front of him, “is that it’s clear they’re doing something shady and the only way to find out is to infiltrate their practices.”

“taehyung,” sighs namjoon, forkful of eggs paused halfway to his mouth. “not everything is a conspiracy theory.”

“the past three of their practices have been at the crack of dawn and each time, they’ve come back to the castle covered in mud. and it hadn’t rained any of those times!”

“do you… get up that early just to watch them?”

“i think you’re missing the point, namjoon.”

“what are we talking about?” jeongguk finally asks, having slathered two pieces of toast with jam and now stuffing one into his mouth. he reaches for the sausages next, rolling several onto his plate alongside the toast.

“don’t encourage him,” sighs namjoon, but seems to decide it’s a hopeless endeavour, knowing taehyung well considering they’ve been dating for the better part of two years, and returns to eating his eggs as taehyung turns to jeongguk instead. his eyes are on the verge of wild.

“the slytherins!” he exclaims, slamming his hand on the table and rattling the nearby cutlery. “don’t you think there’s something weird going on with the quidditch team? first of all,” taehyung holds up one finger, not deterred by jeongguk still stuffing his face, “they’ve gotten either third or last place in the standings every year since i’ve been at hogwarts, and have only risen above the ranking a few times in the past decade and a half. they’re notorious for being shit no matter who they have on the team, but then… lo and behold, this year they’re suddenly first in the league so far? jimin has only missed the snitch twice, and one of those times they were so far ahead in points that they won anyway?”

he pauses, clearly waiting for a response, but jeongguk is currently scarfing down a mountain of eggs so he just nods to show he’s following, and taehyung takes it as a hint to continue. “something’s off about that, clearly, since over half of the team was the same as last year and i doubt they managed to all become superhuman quidditch players over the summer. second of all—” another finger goes up. “they’re so weird and secretive about everything, only practicing when no one else in the castle is even awake, not saying a word about strategies or drills even though we all know how much slytherins love to brag about how good they are at everything.”

jeongguk snorts, swallowing to say, “y’can say that again.”

“third,” says taehyung, lifting another finger, “there’s some shady shit going on. mud, weird runic symbols on the players’ belongings, just to name a few. i’m not saying they’re doing something illegal like enhancement substances but…” he glances down the table, his rant having attracted the attention of more than a handful of students. then he leans toward jeongguk, eyes dark when he whispers, “i think they’re using dark magic.”

jeongguk stares at him, and then slowly puts down his fork. “that’s a pretty serious allegation,” he says after a second, “especially when your evidence is mostly founded on… stuff that doesn’t point toward dark magic.”

“what else can explain it? you’re just going to believe the slytherins are suddenly good?”

jeongguk licks his lips, turning his eyes from taehyung to namjoon, sitting beside him, and then to the others gathered around them. most of them are ravenclaws just like jeongguk, and most of them are on the quidditch team—his team. as their captain, jeongguk knows they listen to him, especially when it comes to other quidditch teams. and taehyung tends to have an uncanny ability to figure people out, but dark magic is something else entirely.

“well,” says jeongguk. “something has changed with their team this year and it isn’t dark magic.” he tilts his head, eyes moving past taehyung to the slytherin table, across the hall. he can see the slytherin quidditch team gathered there much like the ravenclaw quidditch team is gathered around jeongguk—the breakfast before their big game, a match that jeongguk has been looking forward to for over a month. (jeongguk notes, with some betrayal, that hoseok is sitting with the slytherins today. he, like namjoon, is in neither house—a hufflepuff to namjoon’s gryffindor, and since several members of their friend group are on both the slytherin and ravenclaw teams, he tends to change allegiances depending on who has pissed him off most recently. jeongguk mentally curses himself for eating the last of hoseok’s chocolate frog stash last weekend.)

taehyung turns over his shoulder, glancing at the team as well. after a second, someone beside jeongguk says, “no.”

“you’re not actually suggesting—” begins someone else.

jeongguk shrugs. “process of elimination,” he says. “like taehyung said, nothing much has changed with that team. other than getting a new captain.”

an almost chilly silence descends upon the table. being the captain of his own team, jeongguk can appreciate how much work goes into that position; no matter how upset he can get about other teams getting the better of ravenclaw, he can at least give credit where credit is due.

still. he pops a piece of sliced apple into his mouth when the silence stretches on too long, and then taehyung finally turns back around and stares at him. “but you hate him,” he says.

“i don’t hate him,” says jeongguk.

“don’t tell me you’re getting soft,” says one of the chasers. “you’ll set a bad example.”

“just because i can appreciate someone else’s skill doesn’t mean i’m a bad captain,” scoffs jeongguk, the burn of the team’s eyes on him making him uncomfortable. he does his best to keep his team from being unnecessarily critical of other teams, but this is a special case. that’s what happens when he manages to get himself a rival, cultivated from years of playing on the same pitch and being at each other’s throats during every game, and then both securing the captain spots of their respective teams, and jeongguk isn’t even sure how it got to this point anyway, considering he’s never encouraged it and it was just the rest of the damn school that let it get out of hand—

“i cannot believe you,” he hears. “on the morning of our match against them, too.”

after a beat, namjoon says, “jeongguk has a point, you know.”

“whose side are you on?” asks taehyung. “with that talk, you can go sit with the bloody slytherins. or worse, your own house.”

over their tittering, another ravenclaw adds, “if you purposely try not to hit him because you’ve suddenly developed a crush—”

“he’s just a good captain, alright?” snaps jeongguk, a little louder than necessary, and then feels his stomach immediately drop out from beneath him when he hears a familiar voice from behind him ask, “who’s a good captain?”

jeongguk keeps his eyes trained on taehyung, whose face sets into something surprisingly neutral. still, he can feel the entire table recoil, each of his quidditch players moving just an inch further from the voice. jeongguk steels himself for it—for whatever is coming, knowing it’s never going to be pretty. slowly, he puts down his fork, schooling his expression, and then turns around.

“min yoongi,” says jeongguk, eyes landing on the slytherin standing behind him. he’s already dressed in his quidditch garb—forest green sweater, cream pants that are absolutely devilish in the way they hug his thighs above the black quidditch boots. and that smirk—he’s always wearing that fucking smirk. he’s in enemy territory now, today of all days; ravenclaw has been looking to avenge their humiliating loss to slytherin at the beginning of the year, having underestimated the team considering their poor performance in previous seasons. jeongguk wouldn’t put it past a bunch of teenagers to try and hex yoongi just for stepping foot on this side of the great hall.

“were you talking about me, jeon?” yoongi asks, smirk widening. “i couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

“shouldn’t you be with your team, min?” asks jeongguk. “you know, casting your dark magic rituals over them to give you any chance of winning against my team?” he hears a quiet gasp from taehyung but doesn’t turn around, too busy engaging in a staring contest with yoongi.

“that’s what your little brain has come up to explain the hard work of my team?” asks yoongi. “i mean, if you just don’t want to accept that we’ll beat you today out of pure skill…”

“don’t get cocky, min,” says jeongguk. “or—do. then when we crush the slytherins, it’ll make our victory taste that much sweeter.”

“i could give you a taste of something, jeon,” says yoongi, reaching into his pocket, and jeongguk realizes a little late that he’s pulling out his wand—“wanna know what fun dark magic we nasty little slytherins have been learning?”

jeongguk is out of his seat with his wand drawn before yoongi has even finished speaking. a collective gasp goes up from the ravenclaw table—and a few of the other tables as a hush falls over the great hall, the rival captains only feet apart with their wands drawn at each other. it wouldn’t be the first time the two of them dueled—although every other time has been for practice or in the hogwarts dueling club. yoongi used to make a game out of hitting jeongguk with (mostly) harmless hexes when he was falling asleep in the library, too, but this is different; this is charged with something, tension and anger and that smirk yoongi just won’t drop. jeongguk can think of a few ways to wipe it off of his face.

“i dare you,” says jeongguk, narrowing his eyes. “see how long you can last in azkaban, min.”

“what the hell is going on?” a new voice joins them, echoing over the quiet chatter that has begun back up within the student body. jeongguk doesn’t take his eyes off of yoongi, although he doesn’t need to; he knows that voice like the back of his hand. “i go to take a goddamn leak and come back to find i’ve missed a pissing contest.”

“he started it!” jeongguk calls.

“well, i’m finishing it,” says seokjin, and jeongguk finally glances over to see the older slytherin standing just on the other side of the ravenclaw table with his hands on his hips and his head boy badge seeming to glint ominously in the morning light. “if you don’t put your wands away this instant, i’ll be forced to dole out swift and immediate punishment, and i doubt either of your teams will be happy to be missing their captains at this afternoon’s game.”

“seokjin, you wouldn’t,” says yoongi.

“oh, but i would,” says seokjin. “wands down, now. go back to your own house table, yoongi. and for god’s sake, stop with the sexual tension. i’m practically choking on it from over here.”

despite himself, jeongguk’s cheeks burn as a smattering of laughter goes up from around him. still, he glances over at the head table, where a handful of professors have been eating breakfast and no doubt watching the proceedings with less amusement than the students. as much as he doesn’t like losing a spat against yoongi—a ravenclaw’s pride can rival that of a gryffindor’s at the best of times, especially when it comes to a battle of wits—he really doesn’t want to be forced to sit out of today’s game, or worse, spend it scrubbing cauldrons in the dungeons.

he puts down his wand, turning to see yoongi doing the same.

“excellent,” says seokjin, clapping his hands together. “both of you are so good at following instructions!’

“don’t patronize me,” mutters yoongi, throwing jeongguk one last look filled with a sort of warning before he pockets his wand and takes a step backward. “i guess we’ll just have to finish this on the pitch, jeon.”

jeongguk throws him a saccharine smile. “good luck, honey,” he says, blowing yoongi a kiss just to make it worse. “i can’t wait to absolutely murder your team, and all of your hopes and dreams of making it into the finals along with it.”

“god, don’t stop, you know how hot that ge—” says yoongi, interrupted only by seokjin clearing his throat. yoongi gives him a subtle yet horrifically rude gesture and then turns back to jeongguk to stare him down for another moment. then, finally, yoongi turns around and walks away, leaving jeongguk with the entire ravenclaw team watching him.

jeongguk waits a few seconds, collecting himself, before he slides back onto the bench, reaching for his glass of water. once he’s swallowed, he mutters, “if we don’t beat them by at least a hundred points, i’m making everyone do laps for three hours after this game.”

there’s a collection of snorts and laughter, and someone claps jeongguk on the back before saying, “that’s what we like to hear.”

the fun over, everyone returns to their breakfast, discussing strategy and homework in the remaining hours before the game. jeongguk, though, feels strangely shaken, gaze skirting to the slytherin table again, where yoongi has finally joined his team and is laughing about something. a pause—and then yoongi turns his head toward the ravenclaw table. their eyes make contact and he swears he sees both amusement and something heated in yoongi’s eyes before jeongguk quickly averts his gaze, returning to his half-eaten breakfast that he suddenly doesn’t feel like finishing.

“so,” says taehyung, then. “you do agree with the dark magic theory.”

“oh my god, taehyung,” says namjoon, but it’s too late, and jeongguk tries to stomach the sudden nerves mingling with something more in his stomach as taehyung recounts his theory for the umpteenth time that morning.

‣

these days, when jeongguk finds himself heading to the quidditch pitch with half of the school screaming their support and half resolutely against his team, he likes to think of—beginnings. likes to remember when he was nothing but a bright-eyed first year enamoured with quidditch, the teams on their brooms, the captains he hoped to be among one day. it all seemed so glamorous, so noble to play for his house like that, to lead them to victory after stunning victory.

of course, playing on the team—and being captain—has been far from what he might have imagined. it’s hard work, blood, sweat, and tears—yelling at his team if needed, managing all sort of ridiculous politics he never could have understood as an eleven-year-old. he’s been on the team as a beater since he was a second year, and now, as a fifth year, he’s earned the captain badge. he loves it—loves the sport, the team, the responsibility.

he has a different sort of relationship with his rivalry with min yoongi.

he can no longer remember how it started—only that yoongi was already on the quidditch team when jeongguk showed up at hogwarts, two years younger than the slytherin. only that, after making the ravenclaw team, jeongguk always seemed to go after yoongi the most during games—hitting him, injuring him, even fouling him once or twice. only that it was someone else’s rumor that painted them as enemies on the pitch, an ingrained rivalry springing forth from dislike off the pitch, maybe, or from an understanding that they were both one of the best players on their teams.

all jeongguk does know is that suddenly, everyone else was demanding to know where the rivalry had started, what he was planning on doing to take it one step further. all he knows is that, at some point… it made sense to play into it, to milk the rumours for all they were worth juts to draw attention to himself, to force the biggest quidditch game turnouts for the slytherin vs ravenclaw games. it grew and tumbled and became some monstrous thing, into what it is now—when yoongi and jeongguk became captains at the same time, it only made sense: they were rivals now. everything they did on the pitch would hinge on that, on their need to gain the upper-hand just a little more.

the truth is—jeongguk is well aware that yoongi is a brilliant quidditch player, a brilliant chaser. the only reason he ever targeted yoongi was because of this recognition, because it made sense to try to take out the chaser who was making all of the fucking goals.

the truth is—everyone knows yoongi and jeongguk have a quidditch rivalry.

and the truth is—anyone who pays any attention also knows that they run in the same friend group, that these silly public spats are generally reserved for quidditch talk and game days, but—jeongguk isn’t sure anyone is paying attention. or wants to. no one wants to remember that, off the pitch, jeongguk and yoongi can often be found in the same corner of the library as they study, or the same table in the student commons as they play exploding snap with the rest of their friends.

because it’s more fun this way, isn’t it? believing that the two of them are sworn enemies through and through, that they try to hex and poison each other every other day, that they’ve never spoken a kind word to each other in their years at hogwarts. in truth, it’s mostly a bit of fun. but even jeongguk gets wrapped up in it on these days—when he’s the ravenclaw quidditch captain before he’s anything else, when he’d do whatever it takes to ensure his team secures a spot in the finals.

yoongi gets that, of course. he and jeongguk have been friends for all five years that jeongguk has been at hogwarts, after all. but no one wants to know about late night study sessions or the time jeongguk blew off practice for an entire week to take care of yoongi after his toad disappeared.

they just like this—the cocksure look on yoongi’s face when he watches jeongguk through an argument, the challenge in jeongguk’s eye as he awaits a response. the insults they throw, the goading, the bets anyone can place on who will come out on top.

this is so much more fun.

and maybe it’s not all pretend. jeongguk doesn’t hate yoongi—never could. but he does want to win, and he would like to see that cocky smirk wiped off of yoongi’s face seeing ravenclaw soar ahead of the slytherins. and he does know that yoongi would never let him live it down if they go down in a humiliating defeat twice within the first semester of the year.

pretending be damned, jeongguk is about to make good on his promise to yoongi.

“kim!” jeongguk calls, careening his broom toward the massive hoops on their end of the pitch as he watches the slytherins high-fiving in celebration of another goal. “what did i say about those points?”

“sorry, captain,” taehyung calls back, tugging his gloves tighter. “their chasers are fucking fast.”

“so be faster.” he knows it’s likely not what taehyung is looking for at the moment—but it’s all the tough encouragement jeongguk can give him. they’ve trained for months together and all jeongguk can do is hope that his team will pull through during the games.

as the quaffle is thrown back into play, jeongguk flies away from the hoops, glancing at the scoreboard again; ravenclaw is down by fifty points, which isn’t anything dire, but the slytherin chasers are definitely out-playing his own team at the moment and the longer this goes on, the less likely it’ll be to secure a win even by catching the snitch. jeongguk twirls his beater’s bat around his hand as he turns his attention back to the game, new determination filling him up. they will not lose this game.

he tumbles back into the action, wind whipping through his hair and his quidditch robes. he spots a slytherin chaser with the quaffle tucked under their arm, eyes out for a bludger headed in his direction as he takes off for them. he ducks and dives, waiting for the sound of his name above the wind—his fellow beater smacks a bludger in his direction, and jeongguk rolls in time to reach it, sending it careening toward the slytherin chaser.

at the last second, someone yells—the chaser turns to see the bludger heading their way and pulls up on their broom hard, coming to a grinding halt to avoid it; it only takes that second for a ravenclaw chaser to barrel into them, though, one well-placed elbow knocking the quaffle out of their grasp and into the ravenclaw’s before they take off down the pitch.

with a whoop of celebration, jeongguk takes off again, speeding ahead of his own chaser in hopes of protecting them. “let’s go, ravenclaw!” he calls, knocking a stray bludger out of the way before doubling back and watching as the three chasers on his team tumble and roll, tossing the quaffle back and forth before sending it through one of the slytherin hoops.

down by forty.

“that’s what i like to see!” he calls, giving the three of them a thumbs up before he takes off again, keeping an eye on his seeker. she’s a good seeker—although admittedly not as good as park jimin. jimin is notorious for being one of the fastest seekers the slytherin team has ever seen, even before he was good at the rest of it—actually catching the snitch and holding on, diving away from bludgers, doing fancy tricks to get the opposing seeker out of the way.

jeongguk spots the ravenclaw seeker near the hufflepuff stands and directs his beating partner to spot the chasers before he flies up to join her for just a moment. “doing okay, ramsay?” he asks.

“never better,” she mutters. her nose has turned red from the cold. “i’ve only spotted the snitch once but it disappeared too quickly. and fucking park—”

“hey,” says jeongguk, waving his bat in front of her face. “don’t focus on the other team. do your job. let me deal with park.”

with that, he dives back into the game. his own strategy with beating has been straight-forward since becoming captain—one beater defends, the other attacks with special attention paid to the seeker. taking the opposing seeker out almost guarantees a victory; of course, each team has alternates to put into play, but none of them are park jimin.

diving under the play, jeongguk heads for a bludger, smacking it in the direction of green in hopes of doing some damage before he can spot jimin—but then a cheer goes up from the crowd and jeongguk curses when he sees slytherin has scored again.

this time, it comes with a little bonus.

“what was that about murdering us, jeon?” yoongi calls as he soars by jeongguk on his victory lap, offering a smirk as he does so.

“didn’t you know birds like to play with our food?” jeongguk calls back, but yoongi has already flown back into the action, searching for the quaffle again. jeongguk grits his teeth, trying to ignore how smug yoongi sounded—no doubt having an easy time being fifty points in the lead and objectively having the best seeker in the school on his side. but he will not lose today.

with new aggression, he dives back in, shouting encouragements and commands at his team as the action wears on. it’s an aggressive game, players colliding and elbowing each other, smacking the quaffle away and throwing it through the hoops with a need to win that jeongguk has never quite seen in his team. ravenclaw keeps their head above water, winning back goal after goal—but even then, every time jeongguk throws a taunt at yoongi, that smirk never disappears.

“looking a little dire, min!” jeongguk shouts when ravenclaw is finally but ten points behind, and for the first time, he sees the smirk falter as he flies by yoongi.

“need i remind you that you’ll need to be one hundred and fifty points ahead to beat us if jimin catches the snitch?” yoongi calls back.

“that’s a big if, min,” jeongguk grins, brandishing his bat. “and i’ve got a bludger with his name on it.”

“jeongguk—” yoongi begins, but jeongguk is already laughing and diving back into the action, knowing that he has to take out jimin if he wants to make sure they win this game. there have been a few close calls with the snitch already, both seekers growing increasingly irritated with not being able to catch it, and the rest of the team can’t last forever. he calls out encouragements to the keeper and chasers as he swoops by, satisfied with the quaffle in his team’s possession before he goes on the offense.

it doesn’t go quite as planned—he dives and swoops to protect his own team when he can, hitting a bludger toward jimin once in a while, but none of them connect. the slytherin team slowly gains back their lead, and every time they score, yoongi flies by jeongguk with nothing more than a kiss blown in his direction. soon, jeongguk feels that seed of frustration growing into something more in his stomach, yelling louder, hitting harder—

he spots a bludger curving around the stands and, out of the corner of his eye, park jimin unaware of its proximity. if jeongguk can just get there, he knows he’ll have a clean shot—and he takes off, keeping his chest low to his broom as he flies for the bludger; he glances at jimin, making sure he’s in the same position before he straightens up, almost to the bludger, winds up, looks sideways, and—

there’s yoongi. yoongi with the quaffle tucked under his arm, heading straight for the ravenclaw hoops, and fuck—fuck, jeongguk knows he shouldn’t waste this shot, not when he could so easily hit jimin instead, but slytherin is up by seventy now and he can still hear yoongi’s voice in his head, all of those taunts throughout the game. and he knows, too, that shaking the slytherins by hitting yoongi might be enough to throw jimin off his game, even for one second. but one second can be enough.

jeongguk readjusts his aim, winds up—waits for the perfect moment before he swings for the bludger. it connects, the iron ball spiralling through the air toward the ravenclaw hoops, and he holds his breath, watching as yoongi holds the quaffle out, winding up to throw it past taehyung.

at the last second, there’s a panicked shout of, “captain!”

and then jeongguk’s bludger collides with yoongi’s arm, so hard that it almost knocks yoongi off of his broom. the quaffle flies in the opposite direction as yoongi goes careening sideways, rolling on his broom, and triumph blooms in jeongguk’s chest. saving ten points won’t do much for the numbers, but playing in that rivalry will give his own team the boost they need, and he’s already searching for the next opportunity before he hears the whistle.

jeongguk’s eyes snap back to yoongi to find him slowly flying toward the ground, his arm held awkwardly in his other hand at a very wrong angle, and—the triumph is replaced by dread as he stares at the sight. at yoongi reaching the ground and getting off of his broom, at the referee and healer from the sidelines rushing out to meet him.

and he realizes—he just broke yoongi’s arm.

his first instinct is to go to yoongi, to help him, and he’s already turned his broom toward the ground before he realizes he can’t do that. injuries are an occurrence in almost every game, at least mild ones, and breaking a bone is no cause for concern—jeongguk watches, stomach twisted into knots, as the healer pulls out her wand and mutters an incantation over yoongi’s arm, healing it instantly. most injuries in quidditch are dealt with this way: swiftly and immediately. it’s up to the captain and referee to decide if the player must sit out the rest of the game, but jeongguk already knows yoongi is down there arguing to be let back in the game.

“nice shot, cap!” the other ravenclaw beater calls when he flies to jeongguk’s side, clapping him on the back as they watch yoongi being healed. “must hurt like a bitch, but it was well timed.”

“thanks,” jeongguk mumbles.

but it just feels… wrong. even if yoongi has already been healed, it leaves a foul taste in jeongguk’s mouth. and jeongguk won’t get in trouble for it either—there was no foul play, considering his job as a beater is to hit people with bludgers, even if it’s never his intention to break an arm. and maybe—it’s less about the broken arm, more about whose arm it is. jeongguk can only stare as yoongi’s arm is magically repaired and then, within seconds, the seventh year is hopping back on his broom and taking to the sky again, a chorus of cheers going up from the crowd.

it’s not a big deal. jeongguk knows this. but—it’s yoongi. despite appearances, despite rivalries, it’s still yoongi. and jeongguk hurt him, even for just a few minutes. jeongguk did that to him—and he feels frozen on his broom as he watches yoongi take to the air again, get back into position with the ravenclaw chasers opposing.

across the pitch, yoongi looks at him. and there’s—some taunt, probably, to be made. but jeongguk can’t stop feeling vaguely sick and, even more, worried. it’s just a game. it’s how quidditch is played, the nature of it, but god—god. when the whistle blows again and the quaffle is thrown back into play, jeongguk can’t shake the overwhelming guilt that clouds his mind for the rest of the game.

he loses it—the determination to win, the aggressiveness he felt so strongly earlier. now, each turn is met with a quick glance in yoongi’s direction, afraid to find him in residual pain from the break. now, he finds himself pausing before he hits a bludger, afraid somehow that it will find its way to yoongi again, that jeongguk will make the injury worse. now, he can’t stop seeing it—the awkward angle of yoongi’s arm, the look on his face when he touched the ground. that was jeongguk’s fault. and yoongi is fine, he’ll be fine. but jeongguk can’t stop worrying about it.

when the ravenclaw seeker catches the snitch, an uproar going up from the crowd and the rest of the ravenclaw team, jeongguk hardly notices. he’s too busy watching yoongi, too busy trying to fight off the guilt and concern in his mind. for all of his determination to win and taunting yoongi earlier in the day, he feels none of the satisfaction of winning, all of it dampened by the darker thoughts circulating in his head.

but—they won. they won. he celebrates with his team on the pitch, heads into the dressing rooms and laughs with them about it. relives the greatest moments of the game as they get changed and pass around high-fives and hugs. as taehyung immediately launches into his plan for a celebration party after dinner. all the while, jeongguk sits on the bench and slowly takes off his equipment, laughing when he feels he should, but too busy thinking of yoongi—in the slytherin dressing room now, taking off his own boots and gloves and pads. maybe running a hand over his arm, feeling where the bone is still tender from the magic. jeongguk almost feels sick again, just thinking of it.

he waits until most of the ravenclaws have gone, heading back to the castle to begin their celebration of the win. then—“you coming?” taehyung asks when he finishes packing up his equipment, nudging jeongguk’s foot with his own. jeongguk blinks as he looks up, not having realized that they’re the only two left.

“ah, yeah,” he says with a shake of his head, standing. “i just… have something i have to do.”

taehyung’s smirk is knowing—too knowing, making jeongguk flush for a reason he doesn’t want to think of. rather than dwell on it or ask further questions, taehyung just ruffles jeongguk’s hair. “okay,” he says. “don’t be too late, though, i’m gonna need your help with decorations for the party. and also sneaking alcohol in because i know seokjin has some but since slytherin lost in a humiliating defeat, he might be less likely to hand it over.”

even that joke can’t quite get jeongguk out of his slump, and taehyung pats his cheek once before bidding him farewell and heading out of the dressing room with his bag of equipment. then—silence. then—jeongguk takes a deep breath, finally letting down the dam he’s built to hold in all of that worry and fear. he’s flooded with guilt again as he wipes his sweaty hands on his pants and exits the dressing room. rather than heading for the castle, though, he turns down the hall that leads to the rest of the dressing rooms.

there—the door painted in green. he’s nervous about what he’ll find behind that door, pausing with his ear pressed against the wood as he listens for anyone inside. he hears no voices, no movement, but steels himself nonetheless before he knocks softly and then opens the door a few inches and peers inside.

yoongi is sitting against the wall, his own equipment lying haphazardly around him and his elbow cradled in his hand. at the sound of the door opening, he looks up, and their eyes meet in the silence and emptiness of the dressing room. just seeing him—jeongguk feels so much, more than just the guilt and concern overwhelming him.

it’s yoongi who speaks first, whose lips curl into a small grin when he says, “come to gloat about your big win, have you?”

“no,” says jeongguk immediately, beginning to recoil. “n-no, oh my god, i wo—”

“i’m kidding,” says yoongi easily; everything is so easy with him.

“please don’t think that’s what i wa—”

“gguk.”

“because i’m not, i don’t, yoon—”

“jeongguk, i said i was kidding.” jeongguk finally stops stuttering, taking a deep breath as he allows himself to see, really, yoongi. yoongi doesn’t look like he’s in pain, doesn’t look upset, doesn’t throw jeongguk anything filled with anger like jeongguk might have imagined.

he just looks… like yoongi. quietly beautiful and careful and good, no matter what he does. jeongguk can hardly stand it.

then—“i mean, if you wanted to, you can,” yoongi adds. “it was a good win. and considering everything riding on it and how hard of a time i was giving you before, it would be warranted.”

this, perhaps, is what bothers jeongguk most about yoongi—that he’s so goddamn kind, even when he deserves to be anything but. he’s got a backbone like no other, stands up for himself when he needs to, but he lets jeongguk get away with so much. he’ll take anything jeongguk wants to give him with that grin of his, the fond one reserved just for jeongguk in the quiet moments, in the shadows when no one else is looking. he’ll let jeongguk taunt him on the pitch, will let him say such horrible things in public for the sake of whatever silly image someone else has thrust upon them—but he never asks for payment, or apologies.

and jeongguk would never want yoongi to be harsh with him. but sometimes—he thinks perhaps he needs it.

“yoongi,” sighs jeongguk. “i broke your arm.”

yoongi looks down at his elbow as though he had forgotten about it, a puff of air escaping through his nose. “so you did,” he says, casual. like it doesn’t matter. then he looks back to jeongguk, tilts his head—inviting.

“can i—” jeongguk begins, opening the door a little wider. “i mean, if you want… i just thought—”

“c’mere.” and it’s all the permission jeongguk needs to finally step into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him as he makes his way toward yoongi. his timid approach has fallen away now, the concern and guilt returning when he’s close enough to reach for yoongi, stopping just shy of his knees as he stares down at yoongi’s arm. it looks fine now, but for those few agonizing minutes, jeongguk knew it must have hurt. must have been hell.

“does it hurt?” he asks.

yoongi shrugs. “more of a dull ache,” he says. “the healer said i should take it easy for a few days, but you know how quidditch players are. like hell i’m going to miss practice after our performance today.”

the guilt spikes—he did this. jeongguk did this.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, lips jutting into a small pout. “i didn’t mean to hurt you, honestly, i just wanted to stop you from making that goal and i should have—i should have aimed it better or not swung as hard, god.”

“it’s okay. injuries happen.”

“but i feel bad. even if it got healed right away, i still broke your arm.”

“ggukie, seriously, i’m fine. i’m not mad at you. you’re a beater; that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“yeah, but—”

“jeongguk.” and now yoongi reaches out for him, even with that healed arm, grasping at jeongguk’s wrists and opening his legs so he can tug jeongguk between his knees. and jeongguk goes willingly, easily, as he always does with yoongi, their bodies fitting together as he pouts down at yoongi. he knows just how stubborn he is, when it comes to things he wants—and when it comes to his feelings. he can hold grudges, can convince himself of his own wrong-doing until he makes himself sick with it.

yoongi knows this. yoongi knows how to deal with it, too.

he massages at the bones in jeongguk’s wrists, and then lets his fingers slip down down down until he’s holding onto jeongguk’s hands, swinging them back and forth just lightly. he looks up at jeongguk, lips curling into a soft grin. “baby. i’m okay,” he whispers. “do you believe me?”

swallowing, jeongguk whispers, “i still feel really bad. i don’t like hurting you.”

“it was a good game,” says yoongi. “and what happens during a game stays in a game. besides, i’ve had worse. you’ve literally broken my skull before.”

“that doesn’t make me feel better—”

yoongi laughs, almost husky, murmuring, “sorry,” as he tugs a little more on jeongguk’s hands, until jeongguk gets the hint; he leans over, down and down until he can rest his forehead against yoongi’s. he closes his eyes, breathes in deep, feels… better, in some way. maybe not about hurting yoongi, but they both know that guilt will linger for weeks and weeks, no matter how many times yoongi reassures him it’s not a big deal. but being with yoongi always makes jeongguk’s heart beat a little easier. makes everything feel lighter, makes the world a little brighter.

“i promise i’m okay,” says yoongi. “and i know that’s not going to make your guilt go away, but i need you to know that. okay?”

finally, jeongguk breathes out an, “okay.”

he feels yoongi tilt his head up further, craning his neck so he can brush their noses together, his breath ghosting over jeongguk’s mouth when he says, “okay. but you still owe me a kiss.”

this is, at least, much easier to hear—and easier to give. jeongguk finds himself grinning as he tilts his head downward, barely brushing his lips against yoongi’s. he holds himself there for a moment, almost giving in but not quite—until yoongi mutters something about him being a brat and pinches his hand, and then jeongguk finally leans that much further, pressing his lips to yoongi’s.

it feels like it’s been too long. but it always does, when it comes to waiting to kiss yoongi—when it comes to hiding behind what the students of hogwarts want them to be, pretending they’re nothing more than rivals or friends at best. there’s something thrilling in it, of course, but jeongguk misses it—misses yoongi even when he’s right there, taunting him, desire so cleverly disguised as something sharper, uglier. but jeongguk knows what to look for—always has. and for the first time since the morning, jeongguk finally lets his guard down.

jeongguk presses a little harder, toeing the line as he lifts a hand with yoongi’s still attached, smoothing it over the side of yoongi’s neck. it’s so easy to get carried away, to open his mouth to let yoongi in, when it feels as though he’s waited a lifetime for this moment. and still—he’s entirely too aware of the door behind him, which could open at any moment. the prying eyes, the rumour mill that waits and wants. neither of them has ever really cared about it, if anyone happened to see them. but they’ve always wanted it to be on their own terms.

when they break apart, he can feel the traces of yoongi’s smirk as he says, “pretty shit boyfriend, though, breaking my arm just to win a quidditch game.”

“yoongi,” groans jeongguk, already pulling away.

“sorry, i had to!” laughs yoongi, trying to tug him back in. “i deserve just one comment. that’s it, i promise.”

jeongguk is unimpressed, to say the least. but yoongi does deserve it, and he likes the way yoongi looks when he’s teasing anyway—that spark in his eyes, the curving lilt on his lips. perhaps that’s why they do it—pretending to be nothing more than rivals on and off the pitch: yoongi has too much fun doing it, and jeongguk is so goddamn weak. he’d give yoongi anything he wanted.

with a sigh, jeongguk says, “will you at least let me help you?”

“with?”

jeongguk gestures to the equipment, to yoongi himself. it’s the only thing that will ease his guilty conscience, at least for now. and jeongguk knows how much yoongi likes being taken care of, even in the small things, sees the battle on his face—between wanting to seem tough and knowing there’s no point when it’s with jeongguk, between his pride and his desire. finally, he just barely rolls his eyes and jeongguk knows he’s won, hurries to sit on the bench beside yoongi and pull out his wand.

“good,” he says, “because i’ve been reading up more on simple healing spells, like household things that are good for any wizard to know in the event that you injure yourself. and obviously if you have a serious injury you should get a real healer or to the hospital, but i just finished this chapter on pain.” jeongguk gingerly takes yoongi’s arm in his hand, pulling up the sleeve of yoongi’s slytherin sweater until he can see his skin—unblemished from the break, not even a bruise in sight. still—“it’s not much, really, but it should help with the residual pain from the healing and i could even teach you, i guess, but it’s your wand arm and i don’t know if i trust you to cast any spell with your left hand…”

he trails off, lips pursed as he examines yoongi’s arm, and then points his wand at the appendage and murmurs the spell he read. a bright spot of light appears on yoongi’s skin and then fades as it blooms out from the point of jeongguk’s wand, like a magical band-aid has been placed under the skin. brows furrowed, jeongguk watches and waits for any changes before he looks up to yoongi with a, “feel better?”

he’s almost startled to find yoongi already watching him, expression so soft that it feels wrong to witness. it’s disarming, the way yoongi looks at him, all open and wanting, with his lips curled up at the edges, eyes almost foggy.

jeongguk swallows tightly. “what?”

“nothing,” says yoongi. “i just love you.”

despite himself, jeongguk feels his cheeks heat. “oh,” he says. “well. it’s really not that complicated of a spell, honestly, it’s probably a third or fourth year skill level spell, nothing we couldn’t be learning in class—” he’s interrupted by yoongi leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek, certainly not unwelcome although it makes his cheeks heat again. no matter how long they’ve been dating—a whole seven months now, hard to believe—jeongguk doesn’t think he’ll ever really get used to it: how yoongi loves him, has loved him for so much longer than seven months. how he isn’t afraid to show it, even when they’re pretending.

“you are such a nerd, jeon jeongguk,” sighs yoongi when he pulls away. “my nerdy ravenclaw baby.”

“i’m not a nerd,” jeongguk scowls, returning his attention to yoongi’s arm. “just because i like learning useful spells that might just save your life one day, mr. i’m a potions genius so when am i ever going to need to know half of this other shit.”

“when have i ever said that?”

“last weekend when i was trying to help you study for your ancient runes exam.”

“yeah, that’s ancient runes. no one cares about that shit. it’s the fucking maths of the magical world.”

“that’s arithmancy, actually.”

he can see yoongi’s pout without even having to look, grin playing on jeongguk’s own lips. “aren’t you supposed to be making me feel better?” yoongi finally asks. “i’m a slytherin so you know i won’t hesitate to hold this over your head for a month if you’re not nice to me.” jeongguk shoots him a warning look, but yoongi is undeterred. “i’ll make you give me foot massages every night before i go to sleep. carry all of my books to all of my classes. butter my toast every morning.”

“is that a euphemism?”

“you should do that all that, anyway, actually,” sighs yoongi, leaning back against the wall, “since you are dating the best captain slytherin has ever seen.”

“best captain slytherin has ever seen couldn’t beat my team today, though.”

yoongi scoffs, pulling his arm out of jeongguk’s grasp and tugging down his sleeve. “so you are gloating.”

“i don’t feel as bad about breaking your arm now, so… yeah. you talked a big game, min, but your team might as well have been asleep on their brooms. even dark magic couldn’t save you.”

“at least pack up my equipment if you’re gonna talk like that,” says yoongi, giving jeongguk a gentle shove off of the bench. with a giggle, jeongguk goes, beginning to pick up the things yoongi has strewn about the area.

leaning over and facing away from yoongi, he feels a gentle kick in the butt as yoongi says, “so you do believe that dark magic shit?”

“oh god, no,” laughs jeongguk as he straightens up. “sorry for accusing you. i know you wouldn’t do something like that. it’s taehyung’s theory, actually.”

“where’d he get it from, anyway?”

“apparently you guys are being weird about your practices, coming back covered in mud… weird runes on your belongings?” jeongguk shrugs. “i dunno. i think he just likes to play into the slytherins are evil thing even though we all know that’s bullshit.”

“to be fair,” says yoongi, grin lazy on his lips. “i am being awfully tricky on purpose. just to fuck with everyone else.”

“you want us to believe you’re cheating?”

“it’s easier for everyone to handle than thinking we’re actually good.”

jeongguk snorts, tossing the last of yoongi’s equipment into his bag and hiking it over his shoulder. he really has no idea how yoongi has managed to whip the slytherin team into such immaculate shape—that’s one secret yoongi has neglected to share with him. while they share just about everything (even a toothbrush once; jeongguk doesn’t like to talk about it), they keep their quidditch and captain lives separate in the interest of competition and sportsmanship. in that way, the rivalry is very much alive between them—quidditch is one area they do compete in, get a little heated about, and love taunting each other about. everyone else has just failed to find out that when they’re not playing quidditch, yoongi and jeongguk are very much in love.

“a snake through and through, you are,” sighs jeongguk, holding out a hand for yoongi to take. when he does, jeongguk pulls him up, grinning as yoongi stumbles into his space, grinning as he rocks up on his toes to plant another kiss on jeongguk’s mouth.

“you’re the one dating me,” says yoongi. “if you don’t like it, you’re free to find someone else.”

“please, yoongi,” says jeongguk. “i’ve been obsessed with you since i was eleven years old. couldn’t find someone else i like as much as you even if i tried.”

the grin yoongi wears is almost—possessive. not quite, but something proud, something triumphant about it. jeongguk can remember those days so well, when he was so small and unsure of his place in hogwarts. he’d befriended taehyung easily enough, a fellow ravenclaw who seemed to be able to make friends with just about anyone through common interests (or even uncommon ones). it was taehyung who introduced him to jimin and namjoon, his yearmates, and namjoon who brought hoseok into the fray, who, along with jimin, introduced the rest to yoongi and seokjin. before long, jeongguk had gone from being the shy, quiet kid eating lunch alone to having six friends—brothers—from all houses, in varying years. who cared for him, who helped him open up bit by bit.

each of them means so much to him, these magical beings who showed him the wonders of a world so unlike the one he knew—away from his home, away from his family. but it was yoongi who always meant just a little more. jeongguk could have loved any of them this way, maybe—and did have a massive crush on namjoon when they first met, much to his slight embarrassment now—but it was always yoongi. will always be yoongi. there’s no point in trying to pretend otherwise.

there’s no one else he’d rather love. no one else he’d rather pretend to hate sometimes, just to know they have everyone fooled, just to have the thrill of kissing behind closed doors, holding hands under the table, knowing that at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter who wins or loses—because they’ll always come back to each other, come back to this: yoongi leaning in and jeongguk letting him, aching for it, all of his love bleeding all over the fucking floor—

behind them, the door opens.

jeongguk physically startles, jumping away from yoongi as he turns around and stares, guilty, at the person on the other side of the door, familiar voice saying, “but it’s nothing to worry about, honestly, we just ha—” jimin stops abruptly when he actually opens the door fully and steps inside, eyes landing on yoongi and jeongguk, who are awkwardly standing several feet apart looking, for all of their fantastic acting otherwise, like they’ve just been caught in the middle of something awfully incriminating.

of course, getting caught by jimin—or any other member of their friend group, for that matter—would be no problem. the other five are some of the only hogwarts students privy to the truth, but—jimin isn’t alone. one of the other slytherin quidditch players, a younger chaser, steps up behind him, peering over jimin’s shoulder and staring at both yoongi and jeongguk.

“uh,” says yoongi when the silence stretches on too long.

“sorry, cap,” says jimin, taking a small step back and closing the door halfway. “and… other cap.” he nods toward jeongguk. “are we interrupting something?” he has a shit-eating grin on his face, because he knows—knows what jeongguk and yoongi were doing, because they always do it after games. it’s generally up to jimin and taehyung to keep their teams away from the dressing rooms once yoongi and jeongguk are left alone, but either jimin forgot, lost track of time, or… wanted to be a little shit.

jeongguk wouldn’t put it past him.

“nope,” says jeongguk quickly, taking a step toward the door before throwing a look at yoongi. “i was just… gloating.”

“ah, as is expected from min yoongi’s great quidditch rival,” smirks jimin. jeongguk tries to glare at him without making it seem strange for the other slytherin, who adds, “can we beat him up for being mean to captain min?”

“well,” says jeongguk, clearing his throat. “good game, min. on our part, at least. better, uh… work on your dark magic for next game if you want park to catch the snitch.”

“hey—” begins jimin, but jeongguk is already reaching for the door and pulling it open wide enough to leave. he squeezes past jimin and the younger student, avoiding eye contact and only wanting to escape. he gets only a few steps, though, before he remembers that he’s still carrying yoongi’s bag over his shoulder and then turns around, briskly entering the room again and dropping the bag at yoongi’s feet before leaving just as quickly as he came.

cheeks burning, he hears the girl ask, “why was he carrying that?” and jimin reply, still smug and teasing, “jeon’s a thief, i suspect. keep your equipment close around that one. nimble fingers, wouldn’t you say, yoongi?”

jeongguk is exiting the pitch before he can hear yoongi’s response.

‣

“and then i was like, shit, that’s the snitch! so i went for it even though park was right there ‘cause i was like, i have to get it before him, and it was flying for him—fucking rigged, if you ask me—and then i heard vela yelling from behind me like, get out of the way, and i was like what the fuck? and i tucked and rolled and there was bludger right there! and it hit park, and i was like oh my god—”

jeongguk snorts, sipping at his punch as he listens to the ravenclaw seeker re-tell the story of her brilliant catch for the fourth time since the party began. it’s a good story, of course, although gets a little wilder every time, with each wide-eyed student who begs to hear how ravenclaw managed to defeat slytherin. but jeongguk likes hearing it—how excited his team gets about a fantastic performance. likes seeing how enthralled the rest of the house gets with their quidditch team, a bit like this group of students are gods among wizards.

it’s a dangerous path to go down. but just once—jeongguk allows himself to pretend. lets himself get lost in the fantasy of it, of being the great ravenclaw quidditch captain everyone wants him to be. at sixteen, it’s not always easy to have the hopes and dreams of an entire house pinned on him, but he does his best. and it pays off now, too, when students continually walk by to give him a high-five or congratulate him on a game well-played, many calling attention to the spectacular move on min, honestly, you should have seen the look on our faces when we realized you’d broken his arm!

he takes a moment to look out at the crowded ravenclaw common room as the seeker continues her story to the wide-eyed fourth years listening. after-game celebrations are always a thing of legend where the entire school tends to get involved. the quidditch teams are celebrated in their common rooms for the entire evening, going from a small gathering to a proper party the longer it goes on—once the younger students hit their curfew and are shuffled off to their dorms, forbidden from leaving lest they get mixed up in the wrong sort of thing.

of course, most of the school is underaged and everyone is getting mixed up in the wrong sort of thing, but when the head boy himself is the one bringing the illegal substances, jeongguk likes to think they’re in safe hands.

student from all houses have already shown up in the ravenclaw common room, cramming into every corner as they talk and laugh, and enjoy punch and snacks provided by the house elves. jeongguk has done his rounds, celebrating with his team and then having many interesting conversations with other students. now that it’s nearing time for the fourth years and fifth years to head to bed—minus the quidditch team, of course—jeongguk searches for the most familiar faces, seeking out comfort and familiarity now that he’s had his fill of acquaintances and almost-strangers.

the comfort comes to him instead—abruptly, the ravenclaw seeker stops talking in the middle of a sentence and everyone else around him goes a little quiet. jeongguk turns to stare at them only to find they’re staring at the door, and when he looks toward the entrance of the common room, he finds yoongi has stepped through, donning a massive sweatshirt and with his blonde hair still a little wet from the shower he must have just taken.

it’s not as though he’s not welcome in the ravenclaw common room, especially during a quidditch party—but jeongguk can feel eyes on him, everyone near him watching to see what he’ll do. but jeongguk is tired of keeping up appearances, at least for now; despite their conversation in the dressing room, jeongguk still can’t help feeling guilty about breaking yoongi’s arm, and they’ve already had one public argument today.

so—when yoongi’s eyes scan the common room and then land on him, jeongguk’s lips curve into a shy grin.

behind him, someone whispers, “are they going to fight because jeongguk broke his elbow?”

jeongguk snorts, neglecting to entertain the question as he tilts his head sideways, gesturing for yoongi to join him in their spot—where the seven of them can most often be found during these gettogethers, when they get sick of pretending that they want to spend time with anyone else. it’s not easy having friends in all different houses, since finding time and space to hang out can be difficult if they want all seven of them to be there, but that’s what he likes about these things—for once, jeongguk can just be, and be with them. no one is really paying attention to him and yoongi, not when the house elves are providing endless tarts and candies and those brownies hoseok swears are laced with fairy dust, because there’s no way they’re that addictive on their own.

as yoongi makes his way through the common room, jeongguk excuses himself and trails after, immediately relaxing when he spots the little group that has gathered in one corner of the common room, making a home among the sofas, armchairs, and beanbags. namjoon and taehyung are already wrapped up in one another near the fireplace, like two cats starved of affection; seokjin has claimed an armchair for himself as he seems to be debating something with both hoseok and jimin, who are sitting on the floor in the middle of the circle.

yoongi has already taken a seat on the loveseat, conveniently leaving just one spot open for jeongguk—and this is what jeongguk has always loved so much about his friends: they span three different years of hogwarts, all four houses, numerous interests and clubs and classes, yet… they all fit. the group wouldn’t be without one of them, and jeongguk has never been afraid to simply exist around them.

the magical world is his home now, so different from the muggle world he grew up in. and hogwarts is his home now, too, at least until he graduates. but more than all of that—what makes any of this a home is them.

is yoongi.

jeongguk takes a bit of a running start and then vaults over the back of the sofa, landing in the empty space with a dull thud that has yoongi startling beside him. “evening, lads,” grins jeongguk as his appearance draws the attention of the rest of them. “fancy seeing you here.”

“well, if it isn’t the hero of the day,” says taehyung. “mister jeon jeongguk himself, captain of the victorious eagles… breaker of arms.”

jeongguk groans, knowing he should have expected the teasing from the rest of them; even if yoongi claimed to have gotten his own cheap comment in, the others will no doubt love to milk this for all it’s worth. the others laugh as they re-tell the story of it from varying perspectives—taehyung and jimin on the pitch, seokjin, namjoon, and hoseok in the stands—and jeongguk can only lean over and hide his face in yoongi’s shoulder to avoid the embarrassment.

but yoongi laughs along with them, patting jeongguk’s head and then dropping his hand to jeongguk’s thigh, squeezing it as jeongguk turns his entire body into yoongi’s, seeking the warmth there, using the teasing as an excuse. he hasn’t spent any real amount of time with yoongi today and he misses him, misses this.

“don’t tease the baby,” yoongi finally protests, when jimin is in the middle of dramatically exaggerating how yoongi’s arm was flopping around like a dead fish, honestly, i thought i might throw up. “he’s sensitive about it.”

“i’m not a baby,” jeongguk frowns, lifting his head but staying just as pressed to yoongi’s side. “i just feel bad.”

“you won, though, didn’t you?” asks jimin. “worth it in the end.”

“i should have been trying to break your arm.”

“i wouldn’t be so forgiving as loverboy over there and you know it.”

jeongguk snorts, noting the pink of yoongi’s cheek at the comment. but jimin isn’t wrong; it’s been a running joke for years that yoongi doesn’t know how to be hard on jeongguk and certainly doesn’t know how to discipline him for anything, even breaking yoongi’s arm. as much as jeongguk loves studying or dueling or practicing anything with yoongi, he knows that if he really wants to improve, he has to go to someone else because yoongi seems to find everything jeongguk does extremely endearing and near perfect, no matter how shit he really is.

so—breaking yoongi’s arm was probably the safer bet between him and jimin. and ravenclaw did win, anyway, so he’s lucky on that front.

here, jeongguk gets the urge he so often does every time he so much as thinks about yoongi—to kiss him, even just on the cheek. but when he glances over his shoulder, he sees there are too many people around to even sneak one in, to stop pretending. and that’s—not fair, even if they’re the ones who have decided to keep their relationship a secret for the most part. instead, he laces their fingers together over his thigh, the action hidden by their bodies, and yoongi squeezes his hand. he knows.

“well,” sighs seokjin, drawing their attention. “i, for one, have had enough of this quidditch talk. it’s a stupid sport, anyway. anyone have fun gossip to share this fine evening?”

“you just don’t like quidditch because you don’t understand it,” argues hoseok; as a chaser for the hufflepuff team, he’s always been safely in the majority in their friend group. in the end, it’s just seokjin who shits on quidditch since namjoon, although not on the team, is dating a ravenclaw quidditch player and knows better than to knock it in front of taehyung.

“why is all of the power given to the seeker?” seokjin begins, slapping his hand on the arm of his chair. a collective groan goes up from the group, but it’s too late—“what’s the point of having a keeper and chasers if most of the time, the seeker catching the snitch wins for their team? might as well just have the seekers and the beaters trying to break their arms.”

“don’t knock the seekers,” says jimin. “i like being the saviour of the slytherin team.”

“except when you don’t actually catch the snitch,” says taehyung.

“i’ll fucking hex you, kim taehyung, don’t test me—”

“i’ll give you a detention if you even think about it,” says namjoon.

“thanks, honey,” says taehyung.

“i heard professor terent is getting sacked,” jeongguk finally pipes up, mostly to keep the group from dissolving into good-natured arguing and wrestling, which it so often does when it comes to a heated subject like quidditch. it works like a charm—everyone turns to stare at him, drawn in by the piece of gossip.

“no way,” says hoseok. “the headmistress is obsessed with him. she’d never fire him.”

“he should be fired, though,” says yoongi. “he gave me a detention last month for going ahead in the textbook. like… shouldn’t he be encouraging us to want to learn more?”

“you nerd,” gasps jimin. “min yoongi learning ahead in anything other than potions or herbology? unheard of.”

“to be fair,” says seokjin, “terent is about three units behind what we’re meant to be learning right now, so i don’t blame yoongi. i, on the other hand, have taught myself the entire textbook and just haven’t said anything so i don’t get in trouble.”

“you’re head boy, though,” scowls yoongi. “i don’t think you could get in trouble even if you tried. the professors are practically licking your shoes clean every time you step in a bit of dust.”

“as they should,” says seokjin. “the good i do for this school, honestly… i deserve an award.”

“didn’t you frame a third year for cheating last week and she almost got expelled?” asks taehyung.

seokjin shifts in his seat, appearing to be trying to decide how to answer that. jeongguk can’t help but snort. “she deserved it,” seokjin finally replies. “she told me i had a grey hair.”

a beat—“you did,” says hoseok. “you made me pluck it out after.”

“still!” snaps seokjin. “the head boy deserves respect and nothing less. no one raises their children right these days.”

jeongguk giggles again, melting a little against yoongi’s side. this is what he loves about his friends, too—the easy banter, the silly things they get up to. it’s just as fun to watch and listen to them, basking in how lucky he is to know them at all. to be known by them. absently, he feels yoongi rubbing his thumb over the back of jeongguk’s hand even as he giggles at something namjoon is saying, and jeongguk—jeongguk has to do it, can’t hold it in any longer.

he glances over his shoulder, eyes scanning the nearest students for anyone looking their way. when he finds no prying eyes, he takes his chances—turns back to yoongi and swoops in, planting a kiss on his cheek and immediately straightening back up again.

yoongi’s attention is on him instantly—“what are you doing?”

“sorry,” jeongguk says. “couldn’t help it. you’re just really cute when you laugh.”

“jeongguk,” says yoongi, looking over his shoulder as well. “someone could see.”

“so?” asks jeongguk. “i don’t really care that much anymore.” he’s tired of it—of pretending, especially when he only has half of the school year left with yoongi. before long, he’ll graduate, and then jeongguk has to last a whole two years without him and he’ll forever curse himself for not taking every opportunity to kiss yoongi, even if it was in front of the entire school. and maybe he’s feeling warmer tonight, softer, want to take care of yoongi, wants him to remember how much jeongguk loves him in light of the events earlier in the day.

and anyway. yoongi gives him a small, sad smile. squeezes his hand. knocks their shoulders together, voice low when he says, “neither do i, actually. feel bad being mean to you even if it’s not real.”

“you’re such a softie, yoongi,” grins jeongguk.

“and i’m proud of it. i’m breaking stereotypes left, right, and center.”

jeongguk likes that about him—likes everything about him, really. likes the way he can tell when jeongguk needs a little more, needs him and him alone. the other five return to a conversation between them, but jeongguk’s attention is trained solely on yoongi now, in their own little corner away from everything else—the party and their friends and hogwarts. this right here is all the magic jeongguk will ever need.

he grins, looking down at their intertwined hands, using his other hand to begin tracing over yoongi’s knuckles and fingers, the back of his hand. “what are you doing this weekend?” he asks.

“got a bit of homework to do,” says yoongi. “not anything crazy, though. oh, and namjoon wants to call a debate club meeting but i don’t know if that’ll happen since the last two club meetings have been about debating muggle memes and i think people are getting tired of him defending the i’m weird speech from that one show. why, what’s up?”

“i was thinking we could go to hogsmeade for a date,” says jeongguk, hating the way his cheeks heat as he says it. he’s been dating yoongi for seven months and he still gets strangely nervous about asking him on dates, suggesting anything for them to together and alone. he just—likes yoongi so much, wants to get it right. yoongi deserves everything to be right.

there’s no reason to be nervous, though, not when he can practically feel yoongi’s smile from here. “yeah?” he asks. “what did you have in mind?”

“they’re opening that new restaurant on shady lane,” says jeongguk. “you know, the one where all of the food and drinks have magical properties so they affect you in different ways, like floating or your hair changes colour or whatever. i thought that would be fun.”

yoongi is the one who surprises him this time, by lifting their clasped hands to his mouth and kissing the back of jeongguk’s hand. “i’d love that,” he says. “can we go to honeydukes after, too? i’ve almost run out of sugar quills.”

“you and your sugar quills, min yoongi.”

“what? they’re delicious.”

“they taste like ass.”

“because you’d know what ass tastes like—”

jeongguk doesn’t get a chance to respond because he’s hit in the chest with a throw cushion. he startles away from yoongi, turning to stare at the rest of the group. taehyung is pointing at namjoon, which means he’s definitely the one who threw it.

“i think it’s time to get this party really started,” says jimin, checking his watch. “fourth and fifth years are heading to the dorms in like, five minutes. i think we need drinks.” he winks, not the least bit subtle, and jeongguk knows what that means—anyone with favourable skills in potions and a proclivity to break the rules tends to brew interesting substances in their dorm rooms, or in the dungeons potion classrooms where the professors are least likely to look.

it’s the closest to alcohol they can get, these magical drinks that have similar properties and effects—and plenty of other interesting effects, too. jeongguk is well aware he shouldn’t be drinking them, being only sixteen. but, well. if seokjin, the head boy, gives him a glass and tells him to drink up, he’s willing to claim ignorance to the truth of it.

and anyway—what’s a party without making a few bad decisions?

in hindsight, jeongguk will think it wise to blame seokjin for it—for handing him the first glass of whatever potion he thought best to break out for the occasion. or maybe he should blame whoever made the potion, a stockpile hidden in one of the statues in the ravenclaw common room. or maybe he can’t really blame anyone but himself—and yoongi, for looking the way he does, for laughing so loudly, for going drink for drink with jeongguk in a strange new competition entirely outside of a quidditch rivalry.

either way, once they decide to turn the party into a party, jeongguk loses track of any reservations he had. he finds himself laughing at everything his friends do, glass constantly and magically filled, playing games with the older students left awake, re-enacting parts of the quidditch game by request from players and spectators alike.

somewhere around the third time he downs his glass, jeongguk begins to feel… strange. not a bad strange, but strange nonetheless. floaty, not quite drunk as alcohol might affect him, but—carefree, light, happy in a way he can’t put into words. colours seem a little brighter. sounds seem a little sharper. it’s as though he’s been hit with a mild cheering charm but in potion form, and all at once, he thinks—he cares not for the pleasantries, for pretending that he wants to do anything but be with yoongi—right now, always. for the rest of his life.

suddenly, jeongguk realizes he wants to be with yoongi for the rest of his life. and it’s silly, perhaps, to decide so at sixteen—but harry potter was saving the goddamn world at this age, so jeongguk thinks he’s mature enough for it.

jeongguk’s vision has gone only slightly blurry as he turns in a circle, trying to find the familiar blonde hair, the familiar green sweatshirt—and when he spots yoongi, apparently in the midst of watching jimin and hoseok try to use their patronuses in a battle (which isn’t going very well, unfortunately), jeongguk lets out a gasp and goes racing across the common room.

he collides with yoongi’s back, wrapping his arms around the slytherin’s stomach and pressing his nose into yoongi’s neck with a giggly, “hi, hi, hi, yoongi—hi.”

he can’t see it, but he can imagine it—the dopey grin that spreads over yoongi’s lips, leaning back into jeongguk’s grasp as he says, “hi, baby.”

over yoongi’s shoulder, jeongguk watches jimin and hoseok yelling at their patronuses to brutally maul each other, but the animal wisps of magic have taken to cuddling instead. it makes jeongguk giggle. “we should do that,” he says; there’s an ache under his skin, now, to be close to yoongi, to disregard everything else. behind closed doors, they can say or do all they want, but he’s been apart from yoongi too much today to be satisfied with anything.

yoongi threads his fingers through jeongguk’s. “i can do you one better than that,” he says, and his voice sounds almost far away; jeongguk wonders if the potion he’s been drinking is the same as jeongguk’s, if he feels every sound and colour as strongly as jeongguk. or maybe he’s feeling different effects, whatever the potion deemed best for the night.

either way—“you’ll let me be the little spoon?”

turning around in his arms, yoongi giggles. he presses closer, closer; jeongguk lets his arms tighten around yoongi’s back, holding him there. yoongi looks relaxed and carefree, eyes wide and bright, grin crooked and easy. when the urge to kiss him comes again, jeongguk can’t remember a single reason why he doesn’t do it all the time, and with a giggle of his own, he leans in—

“woah, woah, woah!” says—hoseok, finally having given up on his patronus. he reaches for the pair, trying to pry yoongi and jeongguk apart. “none of that. jimin, tell them they can’t do that.”

“y’can’t do that,” says jimin, stumbling a little as he joins them and leans against hoseok’s side. he gestures to the rest of the common room; the numbers are dwindling slowly, and most of the students still present are under some sort of effect from the potions. still—too many people. something lights in jeongguk’s mind, vaguely, something about how they don’t do this in public. “too many prying eyes, jeon. min. can’t let you incriminate yourselves while you’re high on… whatever you’ve had to drink.”

“incriminate,” muses hoseok. “such big words, mr. park.”

“you like that, do you?”

“s’disgusting,” murmurs jeongguk. “how come you can flirt but we can’t make out?”

“because no one thinks we hate each other,” says jimin, flinging a foot out in what jeongguk assumes is an attempt to kick either he or yoongi in the behind. he doesn’t quite meet his mark, though. “at least get a room before you start sucking each other’s faces, rowena. you do have a dorm here, jeongguk.”

jeongguk gasps, having forgotten that little fact. but they are in the ravenclaw common room, and he is a ravenclaw. he looks down to yoongi, sure they’re on the same page now, and there’s only way to go about this. swiftly, jeongguk bends down and places his hands under yoongi’s thighs, scooping him up with one swoop as yoongi lets out a shriek. he latches onto jeongguk’s shoulders, though, legs wrapping around the ravenclaw’s waist to secure him in place.

“what the fuck,” hoseok mutters.

“see you tomorrow,” says jeongguk cheerfully, already turning and heading in the direction he thinks his dorm is. he can’t actually see anything, though, since yoongi’s body is in the way, and yoongi yells out as jeongguk starts walking blindly; they bump into more than one person within five seconds as yoongi tries to direct him but ends up laughing too much to be any help, and when jeongguk rams them both into a sofa, he can only giggle an apology as he tries to redirect them.

“s’cuse us!” he calls as he walks, trying to make sure they don’t walk into anyone else. “important business to attend to, if you’ll pardon—” jeongguk’s foot catches on something on the ground at that moment and he feels himself beginning to fall, shrieking as he does the first thing he can think of to protect yoongi—putting his hands on yoongi’s ass, which only makes yoongi shriek and flail, and then they’re falling, toppling over with a loud thud once they land on the ground, yoongi on his back and jeongguk half on top of him.

jeongguk looks up at yoongi to make sure he’s not bleeding all over the floor—but yoongi is just looking down at him, cheeks flushed, staring. jeongguk feels it bubbling up inside of him, unable to control himself once the first giggle trips out of his mouth—and then he can’t stop, giggling harder and harder as he crawls up yoongi’s body, yoongi already reaching for him and bringing him closer by the sides of his face.

they’re in the middle of the ravenclaw common room, flopped on the floor, and they’re surrounded by a small crowd of other students—most of whom believe the two of them are nothing more than rivals. but in that moment, jeongguk doesn’t care about them. he just—loves yoongi. and when they’re finally barely an inch apart, he can’t help giggling, “this good enough for you?”

“i don’t think i could get off of the floor if i tried,” grins yoongi. “so yeah. as long as i’m with you, everything is perfect.”

jeongguk kisses him—kisses him in the middle of the party, in the middle of the common room, in the middle of a crowd. and there’s something strangely freeing about it, about not caring. his and yoongi’s love is so often the quiet kind—not always because they have to hide it, but because neither of them is the kind to make a lot of noise about this kind of thing. he’d rather work on homework with yoongi and play footsie under the table than do anything dramatic, but sometimes—he likes the dramatic. sometimes he likes the loud, likes the big. sometimes he just wants to kiss his boyfriend in front of everyone, because he can.

and he is.

even then, jeongguk’s world narrows down to this—the feeling of yoongi’s body under his, warm and alive. yoongi’s hands on his face, fingers curling into the hair above his ears. yoongi’s lips, soft and moving beneath his, that holy, goddamned mouth. everything about min yoongi is magic. everything about min yoongi is the kind of magic jeongguk wants to spend the rest of his life learning.

yoongi is pliant under him, opening his mouth and licking along the seam of jeongguk’s lips. something about it makes jeongguk giggle again, and yoongi kisses the sounds out of his mouth, swallows them down, makes them his. jeongguk thinks of the first time he held his wand, thinks of what it feels like to finally master a new spell, to feel all of that magic rising to the tips of his fingers. and this—this feels like that, feels more. feels like worlds can be created out of this, feels like cities could burn and be reborn, feels like nothing but sunshine and fireworks and love, love, love—

it takes jeongguk longer than it should to realize the common room has gone suspiciously quiet. it’s only when he hears someone whisper, “what the fuck?” that he remembers they’re not alone; he detaches his lips from yoongi’s long enough to look up and finds that every pair of eyes in the common room is now trained on them.

jeongguk and yoongi… as they make out.

through the crowd, he finds the familiar eyes of his friends and offers them a somewhat desperate look. all of them look amused, though, and like they’re not interested in helping him get out of this bind.

“gguk,” says yoongi, tugging on the front of his sweater. when jeongguk looks down, yoongi is pouting at him. “pay attention to me.”

“are they…” someone says, barely above a whisper. “are they together? what the hell is happening?”

jeongguk realizes, even drunk or high or whatever the fuck he is—that he really only has a few options. and he’s been tired of hiding anyway, and he likes yoongi so much. that sort of thing is impossible to keep to himself.

so he just sits up a little, unnerved by all of the attention. “yeah, we’re dating,” he announces, rather unceremoniously. someone gasps. “and what about it?” the question is met with a stony sort of silence. jeongguk can’t decide if everyone is shocked or horrified or if maybe they haven’t been so good at hiding it all along—but either way. he doesn’t care what they think about it, anyway. it’s his relationship.

“now if you’ll excuse me,” he says. “i’m going to go back to kissing my boyfriend.” then, at a loss of what else to say, he goes for the chant that has become the ravenclaw quidditch team’s war cry since jeongguk accidentally let it fly while tackling yoongi in his very first game: “caw caw, motherfucker!”

in the resulting uproar—laughter, the cheer being repeated back to him by every ravenclaw in the room, the questions, the disbelief, and seokjin yelling at everyone to pay attention to him instead because he’s going to attempt to do a back-flip off of the table and won’t be upstaged by some hormonal teenagers who don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves—jeongguk turns back to yoongi. dips down to press a kiss to his lips, still giggling.

“you’re ridiculous,” says yoongi.

“sorry,” whispers jeongguk. “if you didn’t want people to know. kind of let that one go.”

“doesn’t matter to me,” says yoongi. “besides, there are only… what, forty people here? as if the rest of the school will believe them about this.”

“does that mean we get to do this all over again in the great hall? can i make out with you at breakfast tomorrow?”

“how about you make out with me now and we worry about breakfast later?”

that sounds good, too, jeongguk thinks. as he leans in again, wanting more more more, he thinks—anything sounds good with yoongi.