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“That’s another ten points to Gryffindor!”
Minhyung perks up on his Silver Arrow, watching the game from above. Over by the Gryffindor hoops, Keeper Seo Youngho punches a fist into the air at their point, high-fiving Chaser Kim Chungha, who swoops by on her broom. His lips pull up gently at thought of them pulling ahead on such an important match (this term’s semi-finals), and his attention is taken away, refocusing.
The gold Snitch, hiding ever so slyly, is nowhere to be seen.
Floating a ways from him is the Hufflepuff Seeker, fifth-year Kwon Hoshi, who’s eyes are peeled on the field. Minhyung keeps a tab on him, knowing of Hoshi’s tendency to take sharp dives the moment he catches sight of the fluttering Snitch. Leisurely, he flies over the heads of the other players, watching the game.
“Get it!”
He looks up, ready to follow Hoshi to wherever the Snitch may be, certain that he’ll beat the older boy there; he isn’t expecting to see a Bludger aimed directly for his face. Immediately, he kicks up further into the air, missing the Bludger by an inch. He shoots across the field, looking over his shoulder to see another Bludger batted at him by sixth-year Beater Lee Taeyong.
Two Bludgers in a row–the Snitch must’ve been spotted.
He looks up to find Hoshi again, momentarily distracted by his desire to win, forgetting about the Bludger on his tail. By the time his conscious reminds him of it, there’s a bat by his face, swatting the Bludger out of the way. Minhyung blinks and kicks away again, swiveling to thank the Beater (either Gryffindor fourth-years Jung Jaehyun or Kim Mingyu), but it’s a topaz-colored uniform he sees instead.
“Focus,” he’s told roughly.
The Hufflepuff Beater flies off then, without giving Minhyung a second more to process what just happened. No one around them seems to notice that a member of the opposing team just saved Minhyung from falling off his broom; but then again, no one really wants to mess with seventh-year Kim Jongin anyway.
–
As expected, Minhyung catches the Snitch. He falls face first into to the Quidditch Pitch and ends up with scratches all along his arms and legs, but the congratulatory pats on his back makes them all worth it. The team celebrates their win with some of Captain Seo Youngho’s not-so-secret stash of Firewhisky in the Gryffindor Common Room, playing card games and making a ruckus as if they’d just won the Quidditch World Cup.
Minhyung is denying his third offer of Firewhisky (pledging sobriety as the youngest on the team) when a magicked note taps him on the shoulder. He excuses himself from Jaehyun’s clingy embrace–though it’s hardly a mere possibility Jaehyun’d remember this in the morning, being blacked out drunk–to hide himself between the curtains and the wall.
After triple-checking that no one else is watching him, he opens it slowly,
Come over.
J.
Minhyung feels a warmth spread across his cheeks, inching down his neck. He vanishes the note with a quick spell muttered under his breath (“Evanesco!”), taking a moment to calm his racing heart. It isn’t the first time he’s gotten such a summon, for the lack of a better word (or “Booty call!” as Xuxi liked to snort), but every note still makes Minhyung’s heart–flutter.
“Where d’you think you’re going?”
Minhyung stops, jacket in his arms. The Basements were chilly at night. Youngho is staring him down, albeit tipsy, an empty cup in his hand. He waits for Minhyung to respond, clearly not willing to let the younger off until he spoke.
“Uh.” Minhyung intones, “Uh, to the Kitchens.”
Youngho tilts his head, “Why?”
Minhyung swallows thickly. Lying through his teeth has never been a characteristic he really wished to practice. He blinks, “To get food.”
“We have plenty here.”
Minhyung nods, not knowing how to argue with that. Then, Youngho’s expression softens. He claps Minhyung on the shoulder, leaning close to whisper, “I’ll let you off just for tonight–since you caught the Snitch.”
Minhyung laughs–gasps and heaves awkwardly–and stammers to say, “Wh-what?”
Youngho simply pats him again, twice on the shoulder. He starts to walk away, but turns a little just to call in return, “Tell him I said hi.”
–
The Basements, at first, are daunting.
They are by no means as terrifying as the Slytherin Dungeons, but the brick walls and dark halls that lead up to the Hufflepuff Basement aren’t exactly a walk in the park either. Minhyung remembers the first time he’d been brought here by Taeyong–one of Youngho’s friends who’s boyfriend to a Slytherin fifth-year who’d offered to help Minhyung with his Potions essay. Fifth-year Kim Doyoung is one of best Potions students of his year and Youngho deemed Minhyung’s Potions too terrible for anyone to tutor but the best.
Thankfully, with his weekends cooped up in the Hufflepuff Basement, his knowledge and hand at Potions began to better, improvements incremental.
It was his third or fourth tutoring session with Kim Doyoung that he noticed a pair of strong eyes watching him from one of the puffy lounge chairs by the fireplace. It’d made him anxious at first; the sight of a piercing gaze seemingly watching his every move, the golden-brown hair coiffed up perfectly, hiding none of the stranger’s sculpted features–a tall nose, a sharp jaw, perfect lips.
Minhyung found himself glancing back whenever he thought he wasn’t being watched.
Though, that’d seemed so long ago now, and Minhyung’s memories of harsh stares and stoic expressions are now replaced with wide eyes and the feeling of plump lips on his. They’re replaced with soft, lingering touches and whispers to Minhyung’s neck; whispers of praises he feels underserving of, of admiration he feels are too much of an exaggeration, of love he can’t entirely believe in.
He shivers at the though of those lips on him, and nearly jumps out of his skin when a figure steps from behind the pile of barrels–the door to the Hufflepuff Basement.
Jongin’s lips turn up at the corners, “Did I scare you?”
Minhyung nods, not quite trusting his voice to speak just yet. As often as he sees the marvel that is Kim Jongin, he still needs a few seconds to rewire his brain to working whenever they meet in circumstances like these.
Dark nights and quiet halls.
Jongin, on the other hand, has zero reservations. He strides forward without hesitation, pulling his hands free from his pockets to reach for Minhyung’s arms. The touch is electric, but Jongin doesn’t flinch like Minhyung does, inspecting Minhyung’s arm carefully. Mutely, he brandishes his wand, the tip lit up, hovering over the scratches Minhyung’d gotten earlier.
“Did you get these treated?” Jongin traces his thumb gently over the reddest mark, head snapping up when Minhyung cringes. His brows furrow together tightly, “Madam Jung should’ve been able to heal these for you instantly.”
“We-” Minhyung clears his throat, still reeling from how close Jongin’s standing, “We went back to the Common Room for celebrations, so I didn’t–I didn’t go down to the Infirmary.”
Jongin gives him a blatant look of disapproval. He sighs and loosens his grip, moving to tangle their fingers instead. Minhyung feels his soul threaten to leave his body when their palms press together, but he snatches it back with a deep inhale. Jongin raps against the pile of barrels–a secret combination known only to Hufflepuff students–and the door swings open.
A rush of warm air escapes, and Minhyung loves that it alleviates his hammering heart. Jongin guides him towards the fireplace, the Basement empty sans a few students in corners, huddled in groups with books and scrolls surrounding them. He gestures to have Minhyung sit down on the fluffy rug beside him, letting the fire illuminate their faces with a warm, orange glow.
“Hold your arms out for me.”
Minhyung is quick to assure, “It’s okay, they can heal on their own, it’ll just take–” but Jongin silences him with a single look, and Minhyung raises his arms obediently.
Jongin heals the scratches without words, going over them with his wand diligently. They fade as Jongin works, lips moving silently. He inches closer when he’s done with Minhyung’s right arm, head bent low. His crown is presented just under Minhyung’s nose, and Minhyung isn’t thinking (or overthinks it) when he steals a sniff–smelling Jongin’s gardenia shampoo, the floral scent sweet.
It makes Minhyung dizzy.
“I can’t believe you still got hurt,” Jongin murmurs, breaking the quiet. He sits up when he’s all done healing Minhyung’s left arm. Minhyung makes a move to pull his arm away and thank him, but Jongin has other plans; he dips forward again to press a soft kiss to Minhyung’s forearm, “Even after I saved you.”
Minhyung thinks about how Youngho’d known he was sneaking out to see Jongin. He murmurs, “Maybe you shouldn’t have done that.”
Jongin looks up through his long lashes, curious, “Should I have just let the Buldger hit you?”
“I mean–” Minhyung squirms.
Jongin moves even closer, hooking his hands under the crook of Minhyung’s knees and pulling until Minhyung’s nearly seated in Jongin’s lap.
Words leave Minhyung’s mind, and he has to take a few deep breaths before speaking again, “That’s what Buldgers are for.”
“The Beaters on your team are rubbish,” Jongin retorts. He burrows his face in Minhyung’s neck, arms curling around Minhyung’s waist. The contact forces blood to Minhyung’s head, drowning him in Jongin’s presence. “They should’ve been there the second the time Bludger went after you.”
Minhyung twirls his hands slowly around Jongin’s neck, confidence growing with every second Jongin is moving to have them close. He plays with the short hairs on Jongin’s nape, “Still.”
“Still nothing.” The petulance in Jongin’s voice is clear, and Minhyung’s heart shakes, “I’m not about to let my boyfriend get smacked around by a Bludger right before my eyes.”
Boyfriend.
That’s been something new Minhyung’d to get used to. There hadn’t been a label two weeks ago, but Jongin had marched up to him one morning on the Great Court, unperturbed by the other Gryffindors Minhyung’d been walking to breakfast with. He asked to speak with Minhyung, not at all bothered by the bulging eyes and dropped jaws his presence was causing.
“I don’t want this to be a secret anymore,” Jongin had said.
The large oak tree they were under did nothing to hide the shock on Minhyung’s face. It’d been Jongin’s idea to lay low in the first place. Minhyung had been glad to go along with whatever Jongin wanted; he’d crushed on the boy for so long–just knowing Jongin liked him back was a big enough win.
“Be my boyfriend,” he continued, not giving Minhyung enough time to process things. He stepped close and reached to rest a hand on Minhyung’s waist, like he always did whenever he whispered sweet words, “Be my boyfriend?”
Minhyung had said yes. Of course he’d said yes. There’d be no universe he’d say no. He’d been in love with Jongin for so long, even while not being sure what love really is. He’d just been so sure that whatever he felt for Jongin was love–it couldn’t possibly be anything else. Respect, adoration, desire–and love.
They’d agreed there was no need for some big announcement. Jongin would tell his friends and Minhyung would tell his own; they wouldn’t deny any questions, but decided to keep a little quieter with their Quidditch teammates. Being on their House teams made it difficult for either of them to be objective during matches, they didn’t need anyone questioning Minhyung (for who would question Captain Kim Jongin).
Though, case in point–today’s match.
“Earlier, Youngho asked me where I was going when I was leaving the Common Room,” Minhyung says.
Jongin breathes in deeply, “And what did you say?”
“I said I was coming down here to the Kitchens.”
“Did he believe you?”
Minhyung shakes his head, earning himself a laugh from Jongin. He tugs lightly on Jongin’s hair, hearing the older boy whine in protest, “He told me to tell you hi.”
“Mm,” Jongin hums.
He starts to kiss Minhyung’s neck, just the slightest of press of his soft lips, leaving a trail towards the curve of his Adam’s apple. His hands grip a little tighter on Minhyung’s sides, fingers digging in hungrily. The blatant display of desire makes Minhyung burn up instantly, helpless to do anything but react to Jongin’s experienced touches.
“People–” he gasps, suddenly hyperaware of the other living breathing souls in the Hufflepuff Basement. He grips Jongin’s shoulders, “People’ll see.”
Jongin hums again, “That bothers you?”
“Yes,” Minhyung breathes, thankful when Jongin stops his ministrations, pulling away just to look Minhyung in the eye.
“Why?”
“Because you’re–” He squirms, hips burning under Jongin’s hands, absolutely craving more, “You’re you.”
“So?” Jongin’s eyes flash, the brown of his irises reflecting the flames flickering in the fireplace, “You’re you too.”
Minhyung bites on his lip, eating the rock in his throat when he sees how it catches Jongin’s gaze, like a stealthy cat with a prey. He melds into Jongin’s touch once more, speaking softly, “I don’t want people to look.”
“No one’s looking,” he’s told. Jongin kisses the shell of his ear, reassuring, “Would it matter if they did? This isn’t a secret anymore, is it?”
Minhyung surrenders to it, hooking his chin over Jongin’s neck and hiding his face away.
“Would you be more comfortable if I brought you to my room instead, my prince?”
Minhyung relaxes, despite the jest. He closes his eyes when Jongin’s hand find its way to his hair, carding through it gently. He nods, nudging his nose to Jongin’s neck, a silent thank you.
They might not be a secret anymore, but kissing in front of strangers still isn’t up Minhyung’s alley. He could barely remember how to breathe with Jongin around, he couldn’t possibly deal with strangers watch him grapple for breath as Jongin pinned him down to kiss him senseless.
Jongin laughs, “And would you like me to carry you there, my prince, or would you like to go on foot?”
Immediately, Minhyung untangles himself from Jongin, moving like a newborn giraffe when he tries to stand. Luckily, Jongin is there to steady him, lacing their hands together once more. He turns to lead them down the hall, giving Minhyung one final look–a tender smile, warmness in his eyes that instantly makes Minhyung’s heart fuller than it’ll ever possibly be.
Before Jongin turns away, Minhyung pushes himself up to his tiptoes and kisses him quickly. It’s an act of his own step forward and it’s small, but Jongin appreciates it nevertheless, squeezing their hands once and hurrying them towards his room without another word.