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Yoongi waits for Namjoon to speak. The room stays silent but for the tap-tap-tapping of claws on stone and the minuscule panting breaths of the creature between them. Outside the window, the sun has disappeared behind the clouds and the sky throws them all into gray cast. Yoongi waits and Namjoon stays perched on the ledge, close enough to the gray expanse that the storm clouds appear to be sewing themselves into the wool of his cloak. Yoongi murmurs weakly to himself, but only the same few words manage to manifest. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Namjoon continues to sit before him with two long fingers pinching his nose bridge and a weary droop to his shoulders. He broods in stalagmite stillness as the light grows feeble around them. Yoongi gulps, takes a step back from Namjoon, and promptly trips over the only source of sound and movement in the room. The blur of brown fur and sharp claws circles Yoongi’s ankles as he steadies his feet on the marble tiles.
“Ah, fuck,” Yoongi curses, righting himself as the creature comes to a stop between them.
“Gods above,” Namjoon sighs, a long awaited sound but one which comes without relief for either of them. The creature yaps, wags its little tail with the oblivious joy of a newborn. Yoongi envies him. Namjoon scowls down at him. “What on earth have you done, hyung?”
“I just,” Yoongi begins and pauses when the creature pounces at him, two front legs finding purchase on Yoongi’s shins as he wiggles at him excitedly. “Oh my God,” Yoongi whispers.
“You just what?”
“Namjoon,” Yoongi says, gesturing insistently at the animal clinging to his jeans. He reaches down to pat at his head and his tail thuds against the ground. “He’s so fucking cute.”
“Hyung, can we focus please?” Namjoon’s voice shakes and he finally drops from the ledge. He approaches quickly, feet silently gliding across the tiles, and stoops to pick up the bundle of fur desperately pawing at Yoongi’s legs. “What the hell did you do to him?” Namjoon asks, brandishing the animal with desperation in his voice.
“I was just practicing the base transfiguration hexes you gave me last week, I swear,” Yoongi says, palms to the air.
“Just… just practicing?” Namjoon hugs the creature to his chest. “I didn’t give you any hexes that would do this to someone, hyung.”
“Well, maybe you’re not as good of a teacher as you thought.”
“Hyung.”
“Namjoon,” Yoongi pleads. “I don’t know how this happened, okay, but I mean… is it so bad?”
Namjoon’s mouth drops open as the creature squirms in his tightening embrace. “Is it so bad? Is it so bad? Hyung, this morning I had an assistant, an honest to God human assistant - and now I have a miniature poodle.”
The puppy barks as if to punctuate Namjoon’s words and Yoongi can’t help but coo at him. Namjoon glares in response.
“What am I supposed to do, hyung?” he asks. “I can’t take him home like this. First of all, Jimin was already on edge about Taehyung working with me, and I can assure you he will murder me if Taehyung doesn’t go home today. Second, my actual dog will murder me if Taehyung comes to my home like this.”
“Well just,” Yoongi sighs. He threads his fingers into his hair, tugging at the strands like it’ll relieve some of the tension building in his head. “Just turn him back.”
“Well, tell me what you did.”
“I can’t,” Yoongi mumbles, looking anywhere but at Namjoon’s face.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“I mean, I can’t. I don’t know what I did.”
“Well, I can’t reverse the spell if you can’t tell me what you did!”
“It was just a simple transfiguration,” Yoongi repeats. “I was trying to change lead to diamond, like we reviewed last week.”
“And somehow you transfigured Taehyung into a dog instead?”
“I told you, I don’t know how it happened!”
“Okay!” Namjoon sets the puppy - Taehyung, Yoongi reminds himself with a wince - back on the ground. “Well, something clearly went wrong. Maybe you mixed up your intonation somewhere. Were you distracted?” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders noncommittally as he follows Taehyung’s haphazard path around the room. Taehyung scurries behind a pile of floor cushions and Namjoon heaves out another sigh. “Well, what were you thinking about when you tried the spell?”
“Dunno,” Yoongi mumbles. He thinks back to the casting. The mottled lead block is still on the dais in the center of Namjoon’s chamber, virtually unchanged. At the time, it had been shining under a sliver of white light as Yoongi stumbled through the incantation. Yoongi thinks back, remembers the warped and wet-looking surface of the lead, the haziness of the air as it twisted around the dais, the silence in the room but for the electric sound of Yoongi’s magic and the sloshing of liquid as Taehyung sipped on some herbal tisane from one of Namjoon’s chipped china cups. The sound of ceramics clinking together as Taehyung had placed the cup back on its saucer, the contented sigh escaping from the gentle curve of Taehyung’s lips. Yoongi remembered the smile Taehyung had given him as a silent encouragement. He remembered the way Taehyung’s hair had fallen in soft curls against his brow, how Yoongi had wanted nothing more in that moment but to run his fingers through the dark brown locks, to hear another sigh leave Taehyung’s lips.
Somewhere behind the organized chaos of Namjoon’s scrolls and leather-bound texts, the new Taehyung yaps again. Yoongi snaps to, shaking his head back and forth like it would pull the blush back from his stinging cheeks.
“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi groans.
“What?” Namjoon looks hopeful but Yoongi merely shakes his head again.
“Nothing, I, uh,” Yoongi starts. “I really can’t remember.”
“Hyung,” Namjoon says, rubbing at his temples. “If you really can’t remember… you leave us no choice.”
“No,” Yoongi whispers. “No. Not him... not him.”
“It’s too late,” Namjoon says. He points to the dais and Yoongi notices the small crystal bowl laid there, a film of oil still swirling across the surface of the liquid. “I already called him.”
✨
“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”
“Believe it, hyung.”
The porch they’re standing on is innocent enough. The steps leading up to the front door are gray slate and two white columns twined with ivy mark the entrance. The door itself is ornate wood painted navy blue with a polished gold knocker in the shape of a lion. It’s elegant, it’s sleek, it’s… it’s terrifying.
“You couldn’t just take one for the team?” Yoongi asks. “If Jimin kills you, it won’t even be that bad. Painless and quick. Seokjin’s going to make this hurt.”
“Don’t be dramatic, hyung,” Namjoon says. Taehyung is snoozing in his arms but he stirs when Namjoon hands him over. Yoongi takes Taehyung gingerly, marveling at how small he feels in his arms. “Seokjin hyung is a perfectly reasonable person.”
“Easy for you to say,” Yoongi whispers back. “You’re a textbook teacher’s pet.”
“We’re doing this, hyung,” Namjoon dismisses. He lifts the knocker and lets it fall back against the door once, twice, three times. On the third knock, the door creaks open seemingly of its own accord and Yoongi follows Namjoon inside.
The foyer is larger than one would expect from outside. The walls stretch up into an imitation of the night sky, all inky blue and sparkling stars, and the floor glows with a silvery light. Seokjin waits at the foot of a spiral staircase, hands folded behind his back. Namjoon bows slightly to him.
“Thank you for seeing us, Grand Magus,” Namjoon says. Yoongi inclines his head as well and Taehyung sniffs the air excitedly.
Seokjin shoots Yoongi an icy smile and gestures to a small sitting room just off the side of the foyer. “Let’s make this quick, gentlemen. I have places to be and people to see. Namjoon, why don’t you help yourself to some tea in my kitchen while I speak to Yoongi?” Seokjin disappears into the sitting room before either man can respond and Yoongi simply glares at Namjoon.
“Good luck then, hyung,” Namjoon says, reaching up to squeeze Yoongi’s shoulder once before making his way further into the house. Yoongi mutters a curse under his breath, then follows Seokjin into the sitting room.
The room is snug, just a settee covered in brocade silk and an angular couch pushed against a wall, and a small reading nook at the far end comprised of matched armchairs and a round table. Seokjin has already made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs and he gestures to the free one when Yoongi enters. Yoongi scurries over and sinks into the chair, Taehyung still clutched to his chest. Seokjin has a scrying bowl set out between them. It resembles Namjoon’s own bowl; the same cut crystal and the favored holy oil sprinkled across the surface of the water beneath it.
“So you’ve turned your friend into a dog,” Seokjin begins with no preamble. Yoongi straightens up and Taehyung tries to inch out of his grasp. Seokjin watches the movement, then extends his hands towards Taehyung. “Give him here.”
“Be gentle,” Yoongi warns before handing Taehyung over.
“Please, I’m not going to eat him.” Seokjin lifts Taehyung up, inspecting every angle of him. “This was a transfiguration hex?”
“Yes, well, no,” Yoongi trips over himself. “Okay, yes, I was trying a base hex to convert lead to diamond, but I guess it bounced onto Taehyung and… well, you see what happened.”
“And you conveniently have no idea how that could have happened?” Seokjin asks distractedly.
Yoongi feels warmth blooming behind his skin again, but he pushes past it. “Not… exactly.”
Seokjin sets Taehyung back down on the table and Yoongi places his palms on his thighs in waiting. “Yoongi, you are aware that distraction,” Seokjin begins, letting the word linger between them. “Can severely alter the course of even the simplest incantations?”
“Yes,” Yoongi manages. He shrinks in on himself as Seokjin continues to stare at him with the same patient smile he had worn in the foyer.
“I can reverse this,” Seokjin says after a few minutes of observing Taehyung tiptoe around the table, still somewhat unsteady on his paws. “But next time you have a crush, please just ask them out instead of transfiguring them? Trust me, you do not want to date a hybrid.”
“I - that’s not - I mean… hyung,” Yoongi sputters but Seokjin holds up a hand to silence him. With his other hand, he scoops up a few drops of scrying liquid and lets the droplets fall onto Taehyung’s head. He stands and places Taehyung on his seat instead, then whispers out a quick incantation. Taehyung barks once, then dissolves into a cloud of gold smoke. The plume grows larger, shaping itself into Taehyung’s limber form. Seokjin winks at Yoongi and turns to leave before the smoke has a chance to clear away.
Another moment passes and, finally, the smoke dissipates and Taehyung sits in its place. He sits up ramrod straight, his hands placed on the blue silk table cloth like he’s unsure how to use them. Taehyung’s eyes are blown wide as he stares silently at Yoongi.
“Uh,” Yoongi begins and Taehyung jumps a little at the sound. “Sorry, uh. Hey.”
“Hi,” Taehyung whispers back.
“How are you… how are you doing?”
“That was… odd. It was odd,” Taehyung answers. He runs a ran through his hair and Yoongi follows the movement in spite of himself.
“Do you… remember anything, or?”
“Oh,” Taehyung lets out a breathy laugh. “Oh, yes, I remember all of that.”
“Oh, okay,” Yoongi nods. “Yikes, haha.”
“Hyung, it’s alright.”
“Is it though?” Yoongi can hear his voice inching up an octave and he wills himself to steady it. “Look, I’m really sorry. That was irresponsible and just… it won’t happen again, seriously, you don’t have to worry about any of this.” Yoongi waves his hands around his head and Taehyung, for some godforsaken reason, just sits there and grins at him.
“None of it?”
“What?”
“Well,” Taehyung hesitates only briefly. “Maybe… I want to worry about part of it?”
Yoongi realizes belatedly that his pulse is possibly running inhumanly fast. He wonders if he’ll pass out the longer Taehyung stares at him with that lidded gaze and that lopsided grin. Then, Taehyung begins to chew on his bottom lip, a nervous habit of his that always serves to knock Yoongi’s brain as far off its axis as it could possibly go. “Why did you keep running at my legs like that?” Yoongi spits out, his mind grasping at something, anything, to say.
Taehyung laughs, full bodied and free this time. “I guess it felt like the safest option.”
“What, even after I accidentally turned you into a dog for half the day?”
“It wasn’t so bad,” Taehyung shrugs. He studies his hands on the table, face going rosy in the soft glow of Seokjin’s oil lamps. “You gave me head pats and everything.”
“You into that?” Yoongi laughs once, fidgeting with the table cloth.
“Maybe,” Taehyung whispers and Yoongi’s hands fall still. Taehyung clears his throat. “But next time, just buy me a drink first?”
Yoongi gapes and Taehyung’s watches him expectantly, going back to worrying at his lip as he waits.
“I…”
“For God’s sake,” comes a voice from the hall. It’s Namjoon’s voice, carrying in from just outside the door and half-lost to the raucous sound of Seokjin’s laughter. “He’ll buy you the damn drink.”
“I will,” Yoongi says.
“Tomorrow night?”
“Sure,” Yoongi smiles. He steels himself and reaches out, takes Taehyung’s hand in his own and runs his thumb over the soft skin of Taehyung’s wrist. “You got it, Taehyung-ah.”