Work Text:
Donghyuck grinned nastily.
The twelve towering firs of the Great Hall basked the room in a warm haze, heightened more so by the golden sunlight that streamed in pools across the long tables with the early morning. The twinkling of ice that coated each tree in decoration glimmered crystalline with the shine of the ever glowing candles that were strung across each branch. Donghyuck craned his head upward to glance over each spiraling branch of needles.
The various fir trees had been placed by the groundskeeper in the few days prior, readying the school for the inevitable absence of the majority of its student body and leaving few to bask in the glory of the cherished holidays. The shimmering decorations of icicles hung shockingly white in their temporary presence, the dark walls of the dining hall driven away with the wintry blanket, glinting in the light that struck them from where they dropped over the high arched ceiling. A signature snow flitted from the open ceiling, the bright blue skies that’d been cast above dropping each flake in a flirtatious dance until they settled, melting, over the clinking utensils of breakfast.
Donghyuck stepped through the narrow separation of tables and strode towards the huddle of green situated further from the wide doors of the entrance. He sniggered as he flicked the neck of a boy in a blue necktie. Renjun scowled back at him mockingly.
The Slytherin plopped onto the bench beside the cluster of his muttering classmates with a grin, leaning into their hushed conversation.
“I think as long as Yangyang gets to the snitch before their seeker – I heard she’s rather good this year – we shouldn’t have too many problems today. Lucas Wong is just as good a keeper as he was last year – and Jeno Lee’s a better captain than Miles had been – so that should be our main problem. I suggest you two,” Noah Slate, the Quidditch captain, pointed to the team’s two beaters, Amber Scott and Alise Baker, “stick closer to the hoops and direct most of the bludgers to Lee, he’s the best chaser they have.”
Donghyuck hummed obnoxiously, nodding along with a grin as Jaemin looked up. The younger cocked an eyebrow. “Are you going to announce our strategy on the speaker?”
“And rig it against my own house? I could never,” Donghyuck gasped mockingly with a hand clutched over his chest. He slipped a foot below him on the bench and leaned closer over the table, his robes draping slightly into the empty plate before him as he glanced over the map Noah had sprawled between the dishes. “No promises that I won’t tip Jeno off and announce not to die – what with both bludgers targeting him.”
“He’ll be fine,” Noah said. He turned his head to glance toward the table of yellow that rested beside the Ravenclaws in deep blue, assessing the group of Quidditch players that huddled similarly to themselves, nerves working to force them into an intense moment of last minute planning. “Harvey and Cory are some of the best beaters we’ve seen,” he glanced back to the table and grinned to the two girls before him, “- other than you both, of course – Lee won’t get hurt so long as they’re focused, it’ll just keep their beaters from targeting some of us.”
Donghyuck shrugged, a wide grin plastered over his face as he glanced over Jaemin. “It should be fun to watch you and Lee going at it – in the stadium, I mean, not-.”
“By Merlin, Donghyuck, shut up.” Jaemin glared in exasperation. Donghyuck grinned. He turned back to face Noah, arching an eyebrow softly in curiosity as he spoke.
“I trust there’s no sub-ins today? No new names to make an announcer’s job a mess?” Noah shook his head in response and Donghyuck nodded, leaning back but leaving his foot crammed below him on the bench. Donghyuck scanned his eyes over the table of professors that conversed a ways away, his hands gripping the edge of the wooden table so as not to topple backward. His back knocked into a student seated at the Gryffindor table behind him and he turned, clutching the crown of his head. A set of wide eyes greeted him.
“Pardon me, prefect.” Donghyuck tilted his head with a devilish smirk as he spoke, flicking his eyes over the boy – Mark Lee’s – shocked expression. He lifted a tentative hand to rest over the badge as if having forgotten it was there and ducked his head slightly. His light brown hair tipped over his forehead. Mark shot back forward suddenly, away from Donghyuck’s curious gaze and, with a short laugh, he flipped around to point his gaze toward Jaemin.
He leaned closer across the dishes. The blonde looked up with slightly widened eyes in curiosity toward the boy’s increasing proximity, chewing around a mouthful of soufflé pancakes.
“I know what I’ll do for Christmas – presents wise – before everyone goes home,” Donghyuck whispered mirthfully, his voice low as if the distant professors – especially that of their transfigurations professor, Professor Kim, who seemed particularly cut out to punish any and all mischief Donghyuck joyfully sprang into action – were capable of picking up their whispered conversation despite the drastic distance they maintained. Jaemin quirked a brow.
“Why’re we whispering? Is it your plan to set the Hufflepuff common room on fire? I thought we liked Chenle?”
Donghyuck snorted then tilted his head back as if to point to the Gryffindor prefect perched on the bench behind him, “That’s why we’re whispering. And besides, if it’d make that kid stop screaming I would, but it’d only make him louder anyway. So, sadly no.” Donghyuck flashed his eyes back to the teachers. “And I’m positive Professor Kim is a legilimens and I’m hoping whispering will make his job a little harder.”
“Just don’t make eye contact and your mind is safe.” Jaemin shrugged and shoved the prongs of his fork into a bright strawberry, swirling the small chunk in a puddle of sticky amber and lifting it to his mouth. The syrup dripped onto his plate in a slow ooze, the coated fruit glassy with the sugary sauce.
“Lies.” Donghyuck pouted petulantly. “He knows my plans before me.”
Jaemin shrugged, his eyes flicking to Noah briefly as he began to rampage continuously over more tactics he’d drawn up. He turned back to Donghyuck. “Alright,” he spoke around the red mush that stuck to his molars, “so what is it?”
Donghyuck grinned once more with a soft shrug, “-can’t tell you. It’ll ruin the fun of your Christmas present.” Jaemin rolled his eyes.
“So, why bring it up?”
Donghyuck rolled his eyes. “Well, I had to tell someone.”
“Can’t live without your attention, of course.” Jaemin’s fork scratched across the ceramic of the plate as he drew images in the syrup. Donghyuck scowled.
“Would you rather I directed the attention to you? You forget that you should be nice on the days I hold a microphone in front of the whole school – especially including your little-.”
“Got it,” Jaemin interrupted, casting his eyes behind him to assess a certain Hufflepuff who remained oblivious to Jaemin’s surveying. “It’s don’t mess with Donghyuck day because he wants to be a filthy piece of scum and threaten your secrets. Y’know, I deal with enough boggarts revealing what I’m afraid of in Professor Nakamoto’s class. I don’t need my friend to do it too.”
“It’s only teasing,” Donghyuck glanced over the small gathering of Hufflepuffs two tables down. “Do you think Professor Kim would notice if I jinxed one of them during the match? It’s all in good fun.”
Jaemin scoffed. “You’ll lose us the game by doing that – let us do the cheating on the field.”
Donghyuck shrugged. “Brutality gets boring to watch.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Donghyuck.” He flitted his gaze to the mischievous glint in the boy’s eyes beside him. Yangyang smiled widely. “We never get fouls – playing fair and square is the Slytherin legacy.” He added a wink.
“I’m sure.” Donghyuck raised his eyebrows. “Just try not to kill Robinson while you’re at it – fair and square and all.”
“Edith is the one who shoves people.”
“How could I forget,” Donghyuck’s tone dripped with sarcasm as he shook his head, whispering a soft tut. “It’s always those cheating slime bag Hufflepuffs that get the fouls-” a throat cleared behind Donghyuck and he whipped around a wide grin playing over his lips.
Jeno Lee cocked an eyebrow before him as Donghyuck smiled innocently toward him, his eyebrow twitching slightly. Noah fumbled with the sprawling pages that lay across the Great Hall table, shoveling them into his lap and away from the potential of the Hufflepuff captain’s searching eyes.
“Jeno,” Donghyuck boomed with a beam, his voice bursting in amusement and childish mirth. “Jaemin and I were just discussing how you two will have so much fun on the-.”
“Donghyuck.”
The Hufflepuff flicked his eyes to Jaemin as the boy interrupted, watching the flush creep over his neck. “On the Donghyuck?” the elder Slytherin asked with a grin, “-now that doesn’t make much sense, does it?”
“Oh my Merlin, learn to shut your mouth before you start spitting slugs.” Jaemin rolled his eyes, running his hand through his hair as he trained his eyes over the table, avoiding the bemused stare of the Hufflepuff. Donghyuck flicked his eyes back to Jeno with a corner of his lip quirked.
“Anyway, how are you today? No fouls to be expected, I’m sure?”
“I’m sure.” Jeno grinned politely in affirmation, assessing the many pairs of eyes trained over him. “There’s no sub-ins today.”
Donghyuck grinned widely as he spoke, “Oh, thank Merlin, it’s too hard remembering.” Jeno grinned at Donghyuck’s exasperated tone, his eyes disappearing into slits with his good nature.
“Alright,” Jeno said, stepping away from the group before turning. Donghyuck watched as he settled on the seat just beside Mark, nudging the prefect with a bent elbow. Donghyuck turned to Jaemin with raised eyebrows.
“I thought we weren’t allowed to sit with the other houses.” The blonde shrugged in response, his eyes, too, trained over the pair. “Gryffindor prefect breaking rules – shocking,” Donghyuck stage whispered, his hands reaching upward to cup his mouth as he scrunched his nose. Jaemin rolled his eyes, watching their interactions with a keen eye before flicking Donghyuck’s nose as he met his smug gaze. Donghyuck grappled for the offended feature, rubbing the tips of his fingers over the reddened skin.
“Maybe I won’t give you the present – Renjun would like it too, he could just have the whole thing and not share.”
“Oh, what a shame for me – here let me kiss it better.”
Donghyuck fled the Great Hall with a shriek, the professors’ eyes trailing after him.
☾
Mark stumbled slightly forward with the shove of Hufflepuffs around him, grabbing onto Jisung’s sleeve as they slid further into the stadium together. Jeno had bestowed upon them both a surplus of mustard yellow scarves, wrapped in obnoxiously tight spirals of itchy wool and heat over their necks, and flags the exact shade of the bumblebees that mowed the lawns in spring. The Quidditch captain even went so far as to slide a brush of golden eyeshadow across their cheeks. The Gryffindor beside him scowled slightly.
“As much as I’d detest rooting for Slytherin, this amount of yellow is killing me.”
Mark shrugged, glancing anxiously over the student body bustling around him, “It’s just to support him. We’ll just force him into our colors in March.”
The Saturday sun was high above them, blocked by the constant outcrop of snow, as the Quidditch stadium filled with chattering students, pressing in around the pair. Despite the brisk air that bit his nose to a rosy red and cracked his lips with cold, the wintry air did little to infiltrate the stifling heat that lay in the surplus of layers the Hufflepuff had forced him into. Mark tugged his scarf looser over his neck.
“That’s not enough yellow,” a voice piped beside him, tugging on the heavy sleeve of his robes. “I’d expect Jeno to have painted badgers on your cheeks as well.”
Mark slanted his eyes to Chenle’s head of blonde hair, bouncing on his toes as he peered over the edge of the stands. They were rather high up; the figure of Professor Seo was simply a speck against the expanse of snowy white he paced upon. The wooden crate beside him tremored anxiously.
The field was still empty, its only imperfection the scarring of the Quidditch professor’s footprints over the sheet of ice that continued to grow with the onslaught of flurries. The soft gust of snowflakes kissed across Mark’s already blisteringly cold cheeks, sending needles of pain pricking onto the pale skin. The horizon was a canvas of slate gray, distance undiscernible, and the cloud covered sky blended into the ivory ground.
“He threatened to,” Jisung muttered, swiping a hand across his cheek and pulling the golden dust onto his fist. The skin of his cheekbone was left an irritated red.
“You’re just a wuss.” Chenle stuck his tongue out. The boy was a bundle of vigorous energy, speaking briskly as his eyes remained trained on the entrance to the stadium, awaiting the match to begin. “Merlin forbid you’re seen congregating with the enemy.”
“Exactly.” Jisung shrugged and the two snorted.
“Aren’t you friends with Slytherin, Chenle?” Mark slanted his eyes to the boy beside him, watching him flick his eyes over the opposite end of the pitch. Mark knew the answer – the younger boy was rather close with the Quidditch commentator, Donghyuck Lee, and Mark was rather curious over who exactly the boy was.
Curious, he thought, nothing more.
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to watch them all get slammed to the ground – funny boys, they are, foul players,” Chenle mulled over his words before adding with a slightly tilted head in the direction of where Donghyuck stood, adjusting his equipment under the watchful eye of Professor Kim, “and that one said he’d actually get me a Christmas present this year if we win.”
Mark turned his eyes to Donghyuck, watching the boy grin at an uncomfortable Professor Kim. The silver of his uniform glinted dangerously with the glittery shine of snow that settled in a pale slush over his mousy hair. His skin shone bronzed against the white backdrop, dripping like caramel over a cone of vanilla ice cream, and his cheeks were flushed with a bloom of posies in the frigid cold of the wintry air. His bright grin pulled his red lips away into a heart and Mark’s pulse jumped as the boy’s eyes flicked nearer to his direction. He skirted his eyes away.
Donghyuck was a taste of summer that sent his stomach aflame with wildfires in the frigid December.
Mark was just curious as to why.
“I doubt he’d give you the present anyway,” Jisung spoke to Chenle and he shrugged in response.
“He might – Hyuckie’s nice.”
“Hyuckie?” Jisung questioned, slanting his eyes to the elder. Chenle shrugged again before his eyes widened rapidly. The Hufflepuff flapped his hands hastily, the sleeves of his robes coming off them and slapping onto the two Gryffindors’ arms. Mark winced inward as the boy let out a screech.
The mustard cloaks of Hufflepuff’s Quidditch team became visible as they approached the center of the pitch, the Slytherins in a similarly bright shade of emerald green appearing from the opposite end. Jeno led the team drenched in gold as they headed in a beeline for the center of the field and Mark could see – even with the surplus of distance between the two – the hardened weight of his gaze as it rested over Noah Slate, a seventh year prefect and captain of the opposing team. Mark gulped.
The roar of the crowd was deafening.
Mark watched as Jeno strode forward, reaching a hand to grasp the outstretched one of the Slytherin Captain. He greeted the elder’s menacing expression with a soft grin that crinkled his eyes, their clasped palms shaking tersely before they pulled back. Mark watched the pair survey the bustling wooden crate.
“On my mark,” Professor Seo shouted, his voice drowned out by the uproar of cheers but the words familiar to the surrounding student body. Fourteen feet lifted to mount their brooms, knees bent in preparation to kick from the ground. The lid of the crate sprung open with the soft tap of the Quidditch professor’s toe and the Bludgers flung into the air. Mark watched the soft glint of gold flit into the air, fluttering around their heads before taking off for the end of the field. Professor Seo tossed the Quaffle into air with the piercing screech of his whistle and all fourteen brooms sped into the air.
“-it’s Hufflepuff with first possession – call me biased but I think that’s a little disappointing,” Donghyuck’s voice resounded through the stadium with a giggle and Mark’s watched him as the boy surveyed the match. His voice was smooth as honey, his tone nasally as he shouted into the mic. “Someone ought to give Lee a run for his money; he’s notorious for setting the game up with early scores. Lee passes to Wilson – better watch that Bludger next time – and its Slytherin in possession as Slate intercepts. A good Bludger by Hufflepuff’s Davidson, Slate’s going for Wong by the hoops and-” Hufflepuff roared as their keeper, Lucas Wong, smacked the tail of his broom against the Quaffle’s onslaught.
“-blocked by Hufflepuff’s keeper, an excellent job though I can’t help but feel a little ashamed – Slate I have a better arm than whatever that throw was-,” Donghyuck cut himself off as he dodged a swat from the elder man beside him. “Jeez, Doyoung! You’ve taken too many Bludgers to the head in your day, just relax.” Mark laughed as Professor Kim balked at the boy’s informalities.
Mark watched as Jeno zoomed forward across the pitch, his stomach flattened over the broom and the Quaffle clutched tightly in his grip.
“Na Jaemin approaching Lee in defense – should be an interesting match between to excellent chasers – and the Quaffle is in Slytherin’s – no, Hufflepuff’s possession once more. Lee approaching the hoops-” Mark watched as Jeno swerved forward, tossing the ball high to curve into the middle hoop before he dropped suddenly to dodge the Bludger that barreled after him.
“Hufflepuff scores,” Donghyuck said monotonously beneath the uproar, a pout playing over his lips. “Ten-zero to Hufflepuff – a real shame – honesty, Professor, it’s righteous.” Mark giggled at the grumbling Donghyuck’s mic picked up.
“With Slytherin now in possession it’s really up to Hufflepuff’s beaters to at least put in a little work.” Mark watched as a Bludger raced toward the Slytherin stands. “Hey!” Donghyuck’s voice boomed through the speakers, “By Merlin, don’t aim it at me. That’s a foul – call a foul, Johnny.”
“Maybe when you learn not to call us by our first names he’ll listen,” Professor Kim mumbled beside him, shaking his head in annoyance.
“Nonsense, I thought Seo was his first name,” Donghyuck snapped back, his eyes never leaving the broomsticks. Mark watched as he leaned slightly forward, trailing the game with his gaze and comments.
The match continued to bounce between the teams; each offense operated in smooth fashion, seamless in their actions. Donghyuck had begun to hum into the mic, boredom preventing him from tracking every move and simply settling on shouting with each score. He was beginning a jazzy rendition of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas just as a Hufflepuff chaser slammed the Quaffle through the left-most hoop. Simultaneously, Mark spotted a glint of gold just to the side of the boy’s head. Mark lifted a hand in the direction, nudging Jisung with his elbow. “Is that-?”
“Jeno – I mean Hufflepuff, it’s a team effort of course – is up seventy-fifty to slytherin-,” Mark watched as Donghyuck cut himself off, his eyes trailing Mark’s finger as it pointed toward him, his brow furrowed in confusion. Realization dawned over his face.
“I reckon Mark Lee’s seen the Snitch – Gryffindor prefect, might I point out. He’s looking rather like a bumblebee in all that yellow – the glitter’s pretty – love the school spirit, even for the wrong house,” Mark felt the heat of a flush drench him as Chenle knocked into his side with a loud chuckle. “You should’ve joined the Quidditch team with that eyesight – oh wow they’re coming here rather fast,” Mark laughed as Donghyuck ducked suddenly, the speed of both seekers’ brooms whipping his hair as they flew beside him in pursuit of the Snitch.
In the distraction of the seeker’s pursuit, Slytherin had apprehended the Quaffle and whizzed across the pitch. Jaemin looped through their defensive structures before shoving the ball forward. It flew through the hoop with ease.
“Nice one, Nana! Seventy-sixty in Hufflepuff’s favor and the seekers are still chasing after the-,” Liu Yangyang, the Slytherin seeker, tumbled in the air. He flipped upside down to dodge knocking into the Hufflepuff seeker speeding alongside him before righting himself. He lifted his hand, his index and thumb pinched over a glinting orb of gold.
“-Never mind that, Liu’s caught the Snitch!” Donghyuck’s voice shouted from the speaker. Mark watched the boy jump up and down, his fingers clasped together and his light hair gleaming under the lowering sun. “That’s a hundred and fifty points to Slytherin and the game ends in their favor!” his voice shook with every spring of his feet.
The white field flooded with an oceanic wave of green, shoes scuffing the unmarred blanket of milky white to soiled brown. Mark watched as the golden boy jumped after them, his arms outstretched toward the distant pair of boys that had their arms wrapped over each other’s shoulders. Mark’s smile fell as the boy collapsed into Yangyang’s embrace, his face pressed against the younger’s heaving chest.
Mark turned away with a tight smile and churning stomach.
☾
The hum that filled the dining room bore further down on Jeno’s shoulders as Mark watched. He was sat across from the boy, Mark’s eyes never leaving his sullen face as Jeno shoveled the shepherd’s pie into his mouth. His eyes were downcast and Chenle continuously prodded him with his index, trying to lighten the hefty weight of tension that licked over the boys.
They were situated toward the end of the Great Hall, hidden from the watchful eyes of professors as they sat apart from their house tables. The golden glow of candles coated the room in warmth, each floating fixture bobbing gently where they’d been lit high above the students.
Mark was painfully aware of the ecstatic Slytherins situated behind their slumped forms, sniggering amongst themselves. A finger prodded Mark’s spine and he jumped, straightening his back and twisting to look at the intrusive appendage. Donghyuck grinned back at him, his finger still pointed.
“Is Chenle aware that he’s going to be late?” Donghyuck tilted his head in the direction of the front hall. Mark furrowed his brow.
“Why don’t you ask Chenle?” Donghyuck cocked an eyebrow and exhaled a breathy chuckle.
“Well, considering he’s on the opposite side of your table and I’m a bit lazy, I thought you could relay the message for me. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your sob session,” Donghyuck raised his voice and Jeno tilted his head up, “– which is useless, by the way. Hufflepuffs were in the lead, it was just a twist of luck that we got the Snitch first. They were the ones who played more tactfully and – well – well,” Donghyuck didn’t lift his eyes from Mark’s, never addressing Jeno, but he could tell that, in his own weird, Slytherin way, he was trying to make the boy feel better.
“Right,” Mark cocked a brow and slowly turned to face Chenle. The younger shot a thumb up and jumped from his seat, bounding to the front of the hall. Jeno scoffed.
“He’s a bit strange.”
“Chenle?” Mark trailed his eyes over the retreating boy’s shoulders.
“I agree,” Jisung piped in from beside them.
“No, not Chenle – Jisung, he’s your closest friend, don’t be rude – but Donghyuck,” Jeno didn’t bother to hush his voice, going so far as to point to said boy’s newly turned away back. Mark deflated slightly, guilt ebbing at his nerves as he fiddled with the sleeve of his robe.
“I think he’s quite funny,” Jisung contradicted, shrugging his shoulders as he continued to shovel the steak and kidney pudding from his plate.
“Well, sure, but still – strange.”
“In what way?” Jisung prompted. Jeno lifted his shoulder slowly.
“I don’t really know. He’s… nice – in a way. But also horribly Slytherin.”
Mark snorted and jumped at the voice that came from just behind him. A heavy weight rested on his shoulder and he watched as the Hufflepuff before him visibly paled. “That’s rich – coming from you,” Mark felt Donghyuck grin. “Mean – for a Hufflepuff. Did Mummy never tell you it’s rude to talk about people behind their backs?” Mark craned his head away to assess Donghyuck’s sardonic pout.
“She did,” Jeno schooled his expression and Mark watched the coppery boy beside him slant an eyebrow upward, “I was only saying good things.”
“Shame. It would’ve been fun when that backfired on you.”
Jeno knit his brow together in confusion and spoke, “How would it have backfired?”
Donghyuck shrugged, a coy grin playing over his mouth as he tilted his head. His hair tickled across Mark’s cheek. “Jaemin, here,” he gestured a thumb to the blonde behind him, “doesn’t like people who insult his friends-” Donghyuck howled suddenly and whipped his head from Mark’s shoulder, clutching his shin and pulling his knee to his chest as his face contorted with pain.
“Yeah, and Mark doesn’t like idiots,” Jaemin spoke from across Donghyuck’s table and the elder Slytherin groaned, biting his lip in pain.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Donghyuck retorted; his feathery voice was high pitched in a whine. The corners of Mark’s lips quirked timidly and he watched Jaemin shrug to the squirming, childlike boy.
“Just reminding you.”
“Bloody Merlin’s beard, you kicked me hard.”
Mark turned back around glancing toward the pair before him, equally bemused and mirthful expressions dancing over their features. He watched the red of a blush creep over Jeno’s neck and cocked a brow at the boy. Jeno’s eyes darted away.
“Welcome to our last meal before many of you leave us for the holidays!” Mark twisted his head to glance toward their headmaster, watching as he thrust his hands wide to gesture to the students. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the banquet so far – shepherd’s pie has always been one of my favorite meals,” he winked before continuing, “I’d just like to ask you all to turn your attention to our frog choir and Professor Moon. Enjoy the rest of your meal and the holidays.”
Professor Moon was a shorter man, his hair an oddly vibrant orange, and he lifted him hands to the small group of students before him. Each held a rather large bullfrog, their skin dimpled and glistening slick in the candlelight. Mark grinned as he spotted Chenle.
The familiar tune of a Christmas carol droned through the hall as the choir began to sing, the various pitches of frogs and students harmonizing and shrouding the room in warmth. Mark flicked his eyes to Donghyuck, a grin plastered over his face as his eyes surveyed the amphibians that sang the exact song he had in the hours prior.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
Donghyuck began to hum along and Mark watched as his plump, heart-shaped lips pulled away into a bright beam of sunshine. Warmth spread through the joints of Mark’s fingers, through the tip of his nose, through the creases of his knees and he rubbed his palms over the joint, his eyes never straying from the sixth year’s features of molten gold.
Lee Donghyuck was… summery in the midst of the snowy Great Hall.
And Mark was shoveling away the icy slush that had settled in his chest with the cold of winter to make way for the blossoming July heat of Donghyuck’s smile.
Donghyuck turned and met Mark’s gaze, his grin widening to a blinding gleam.
From now on your troubles will be out of sight
Their eyes continued to clash and Mark grinned sheepishly, his heart stuttering with the confrontation of Donghyuck’s grin. He felt dizzied, his mind heavy as he glanced over the boy’s sun kissed cheeks and heart shaped lips.
“Muggle Music with Professor Moon is my favorite class,” he spoke, addressing Mark with a newly subdued smile, “and we’ve been listening to their Christmas music for the holidays.” Mark nodded, listening to the explanation for Donghyuck’s singing with a practiced curiosity to mask his blatant staring.
He continued to gaze over his liquid amber complexion.
Happy golden days of yore
Faithful friends who are dear to us
Donghyuck’s giggle rang through Mark’s ears like the tinkle of bell, his laughter a fairy flitting beautifully through the air as he continued to hold Mark’s gaze. Mark listened with a selfish desire toward the sound that filled the space between them. The elder boy could almost feel the vibration flit through the air as he watched Donghyuck’s shoulders lift with the soft chuckle.
His apricot lips had pulled away into a slight ‘o’ of laughter as his eyes crinkled toward Mark’s consistent scrutiny. He didn’t turn away.
Through the years we all will be together
If the fates allow
Mark’s pinky twitched, a cramp urging it upward in a flick as a sudden heat blistered through him. His cheeks burned and he longed to press the cold of his palms against their stifling bloom of posies. Donghyuck continued to smile brightly, his eyes swirling with the starlight that reflected over the cleared ceiling above.
As Mark studied him he found Donghyuck’s eyes were the exact shade of the syrupy liquid he’d spread over his French toast the morning prior, sticky as molten honey and amber as it pooled in his irises. They held the same warmth of the sunshine that dripped gooey over his maroon sheets each morning in a trickle of gold.
Mark felt the strings of his heart tugged, his chest pinching tirelessly and near painfully.
So have yourself a merry little Christmas now
Mark flicked his eyes back to Chenle as he quickly approached the Gryffindor table. The boy grinned brightly and settled into the seat beside with a soft sigh.
“You have to love those frogs – and Professor Moon,” he sounded breathless as he slumped against the table, plucking a tart from the newly stocked selection of sweets. Mark glanced to his emptied plate in surprise, a mess of shepherd’s pie having just resided there.
“I agree,” Donghyuck piped in from behind him, settling in the small space between the two Gryffindor’s seated on the bench. Mark heard Jaemin groan from where he’d been abandoned. “He’s excellent for Muggle Music.”
Chenle snorted, settling a glare over the Slytherin, “I’m not speaking to you because I won’t get a Christmas present.”
Donghyuck rolled his eyes from beside Mark and he watched as the boy dripped with metallic shades of bronze and gold flicked the boy square over his forehead. Chenle rubbed the reddened spot with a swat to the elder’s outstretched hand.
“Who said I wouldn’t get you a present still?”
“You.”
“Alright, well I may just have to break that rule – and a few others.”
Donghyuck settled Mark with a wink.
☾
The corridors of the castle were flooded with dark as Donghyuck stumbled through them. The cold stones trailed over his fingers in bumping ridges and he winced with each reverberating echo of his steps. He crept through the halls, his shoulder pressed as near o the wall as he could manage without the scrape of uneven rock against his cloak.
He wore his cotton pajamas, the cool December air of open windows in the school corridors rustling them in the brisk breeze, and draped the black cloak of robes over himself for added warmth. The heels of his black boots clanked evermore deafening against the floor than the tips of his toes he tread on did and he continued to cringe inward in effort to shrink away from the prying eyes of paintings.
“Out after dark, aye?” a horseman prodded, his silvery metal in a continuous glint of harsh strokes and contrasting colors. Donghyuck threw him a sneer.
He continued to shrug through the corridors, approaching a small staircase that lead back down into the basements, the air light and full of a glowing warmth that the steps to the dungeon lay dampened and sinister without. Donghyuck winced with the clangs of his boot over the hard floor.
“You’re out after curfew.”
Donghyuck startled, teetering to turn rapidly and falling backward. Donghyuck let his left foot fall on the step lower than he stood, his hands grappling the rough walls for steadiness. He winced at the echoing roar of his heavy steps through the stairwell. “It appears so, Prefect.”
Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise at seeing Donghyuck, his upper lip pulling away from its mate in a soft gape. His thin eyebrows rose into a soft arch as his eyes widened, glinting in the dim lighting as stars in a night sky. Donghyuck noted how the Gryffindor’s upper lip puffed out slightly more than his lower – he wondered how it’d feel to pull between his own and nibble over. Donghyuck shook his head to himself, surprise evident over his face at the sudden intrusion of his thoughts.
He was unsure from where such curiosity had spurred.
“Donghyuck?”
“No.”
“Alright, I suppose I’ll leave then,” Mark mocked with sarcasm, rolling his eyes to the younger.
“Probably for the better, Prefect.”
“Quit calling me that – you know I can deduct points from Slytherin,” Mark sighed in exasperation. Donghyuck chuckled quietly.
“For calling you ‘Prefect’ – or for being out after curfew?” Donghyuck tilted his head, watching as Mark’s expression in realization that Donghyuck was breaking the rules. And it was up to Mark to punish him while he was doing his rounds.
“Why are you out?”
Donghyuck shrugged, grinning lightly. He watched Mark’s eyes flick lower, resting on his own lips that burned as if his eyes were the stroke of a thumb over him. He suppressed a shudder and cocked his head in frustration. “Christmas presents.”
“You’re getting Christmas presents at midnight?”
Donghyuck shook his head, tutting gently toward the seventh year, “I’m making Christmas presents at midnight,” Donghyuck gestured a hand to the staircase retreating into the dark. “Why else would I be going down there – do you think I want to check up on my surplus of Hufflepuff buddies?”
Mark trailed his eyes past Donghyuck’s outstretched hand as if he could see past the barrels and into the common room of the house. He shrugged. “There’s always the rumor that you’ll set it on fire.”
“Now that was spread by Jaemin.”
Mark shrugged again, his shoulders in a constant rollercoaster of erratic shakes. Donghyuck thought he looked silly – he giggled.
“What?”
Donghyuck shook his head, a pleasant smirk dancing over his mouth. “Oh, nothing.”
Mark scoffed, “I do have to take points from Slytherin, you know.”
“No, you don’t,” Donghyuck grinned, his voice muffled and warped with suppressed laughter as he stared Mark down. “You could help me. Shouldn’t your rounds be over? Besides, you’re the prefect, no one will even find out because we can’t be intercepted by another,” Donghyuck shrugged, raising his eyebrows in suggestion with his beam. Mark scrunched his nose in a muddled pot of distrust and confusion.
“Help you with what?”
Donghyuck laughed teasingly, mocking disbelief playing his tone to a higher pitch, “The Christmas presents – catch up, Prefect.”
Mark rolled his eyes and sighed, “Yes, but – what are the Christmas presents?”
This made Donghyuck beam, his face splitting as he glanced over Mark’s apprehensive figure.
“Treacle tarts – one per each friend, I suppose we could make Jeno one as well considering he’s yours.”
Mark shook his head and Donghyuck watched as his face split with pity, “And how do you plan on getting into the kitchen,” he spoke slowly as if to ease Donghyuck’s utter stupidity into him. The other scoffed, a loud chuckle ringing around them.
“Tickle the pear, silly.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Mark raised his eyebrows, his eyes sparkling with laughter. Donghyuck thought he looked pretty; his pale skin bright and milky in the shine of ivory stars, and his eyes glassy with an unmatched joy directed in pangs towards Donghyuck’s rapidly beating heart. He stomped his foot over his toe – he hadn’t had these feelings the breakfast that morning, so where had they suddenly bloomed from?
“You have to tickle the pear,” Donghyuck took a step lowering, never turning his back but retreating down the staircase and away from the elder. Mark soon followed, tentative as if he’d frighten Donghyuck away in his pursuit.
Donghyuck continued down the basement corridor, the walls littered with food themed paintings rimmed in gold frames and some as tall as he. He was aware of Mark’s following him; the boys own unmasked steps and nervous breaths resounding through the barren halls alongside Donghyuck’s. He stopped suddenly, a ways away from the barrels that perched over the end hall – barrels that carved away into the Hufflepuff common room. Mark nearly barreled into him.
“Tickle the pear,” Donghyuck repeated, glancing up at the large painting of a fruit bowl.
A large green pear lay in the wooden bowl in thick strokes of khaki colored acrylic, harsh lines giving way to rough curvatures of texture. It lay alongside the ruby red of honeycrisp apples and the spindly pricks and points of tawny and yellow pineapple. Donghyuck reached a palm upward, his index pointed until it rested over the gravely painting.
Donghyuck curled his appendage, stroking lightly over the harsh lines.
The curve of the robust pear melted away into the glinting metal of an oddly colored green door handle, its echoing giggle dying away into the silence of the castle. Donghyuck tugged and swung it open, gesturing his arms in a large sweep as he grinned to the gaping seventh year.
“Seriously, play catch up Lee – it’s common knowledge.”
“It’s not,” Mark retorted as he stepped through the painting, gazing up over the walls of the kitchen.
The hearth roared with a fire that held the intensity of a blistering summer sun in its tangerine shades and sunflower strokes. (Mark thought maybe Donghyuck’s smile still held a little more of the summer – that his coppery skin was still more the sun’s nectar than the roaring fireplace.) Pots of copper and stainless steel lay in piles stacked over walls, hung from the high arch of the ceiling, and rested on notches in the walls. Four long wooden tables, identical to the sprawling ones that lay in the Great Hall, sat in the center of the room. Mark approached the large stovetops in wonder.
“It’s pretty cool,” Donghyuck directed toward the boy and he turned, grinning widely – albeit his eyes flickering over the younger with what seemed an almost unease. “Never been in a kitchen before, Prefect?”
Mark scoffed, the heavy exhale of hair shuddering as he turned his eyes to the high ceiling and sprawling floors once more. “Not one nearly this large.”
“Why so nervous?” Donghyuck teased, stepping forward toward the barren tops of the counter. He began to set ingredients over its clean surface, filling the surface with stray utensils and a mess of powdery white from the broken flour bag. Mark shrugged.
“I’m not really the best cook there is. Being here is a disaster waiting to happen for me.”
Donghyuck peered an eye up, watching the boy shift in unrest over his feet. He arched an eyebrow. “Can you zest and juice a few lemons?” Mark looked to where the boy held up a pale fruit and metallic grater. He nodded, stepping tentatively forward.
Donghyuck peered to Mark from where his bangs showered over his forehead as he prepared the puff pastry, watching as the boy’s fingers flexed over the palm size citrus. Mark met his side eyed glance with a winced smile. “I told you I’m not the best,” he said, his tone regrettably guilty as he shoved the fruit over the serrated edges.
“You’re doing fine,” Donghyuck smiled softly, shoving his elbow teasingly into Mark’s side. The boy pulled away with a soft giggle, his nose scrunched.
“You know, Jeno’s right – about what he said in the Great Hall,” Donghyuck raised his eyebrows in question as he turned his eyes to the side and met Mark’s gaze, his head still facing forward. “You are awfully nice.”
“‘Awfully nice’,” Donghyuck teased his word choice with a light glare, “an interesting way to phrase. ‘Yes, Donghyuck, you’re terribly nice’,” Mark rolled his eyes; it was his turn to shove lightly at the younger with his elbow. Donghyuck jumped away, lifting the paddle of his wooden spoon in harmless threat. A crumble of half mixed pastry splattered over the floor and Donghyuck pointed to it.
“Your fault.”
Mark barked a laugh, raising his hands – one clutching the lemon, the other holding the zester – in retreat. “I warned you that I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”
“Clearly,” Donghyuck shook his head petulantly, tutting as he bent to scoop the clump of floor butter and sugar – not yet homogeneous.
“You are kind… though,” he lowered his voice, a burning flush of red curling over his neck to match the dusting of pink that shadowed the tips of Donghyuck ears. “Not even ‘for a Slytherin’ just… in general.”
“Ah yes, because convincing you to join in on my rule breaking is a nice thing to do,” Donghyuck wink, slipping humor into the air to suppressing the beating of butterflies that flitted through his stomach and managed to carve a path to his chest, through his throat. He hoped they hadn’t flown out with his words.
Mark laughed in response, lifting his shoulders, “Why not? You’re giving me new experience in the kitchen – that’s pretty nice.”
“I like ‘pretty nice’ the best, I think,” Donghyuck added with a wink.
Mark rolled his eyes, turning back to the bowl of lemon zest he’d set onto the counter. He lifted a pinky towards Donghyuck’s nose. “I hope you know there’s a little bit of flour there,” Mark hesitated, “pretty.”
Donghyuck felt his cheek burn with roses but he simply cocked a brow, pointing to his nose. “Oh, is there? Because there’s a bit-” Donghyuck flicked his powdery hands, sending the white dust flinging through the air toward Mark. He flinched back, his face scrunched with the onslaught of flour. “-on you, too.” Donghyuck grinned.
Mark scowled mockingly, glaring his eyes with a snarl of bared teeth and nose scrunches and he swiped his hand over the surplus of powder lacing the counter tops. “You’ve got a little-” Mark trailed his hands over Donghyuck’s arms, scraping the flour over his sides in the path of his dusted palms. It was snow atop the dying sun. “-on your arms as well.”
Donghyuck tilted his head, scanning his eyes over Mark’s form with an unsettling grin. He flicked his eyes back to the elder’s suddenly, an unreadable glaze pulling over them. Mark swallowed harshly.
“Funny,” Donghyuck started, scraping a finger in the flour around them. He rose his finger and pressed it harshly over his bottom lip, trailing a path of white. Mark’s stomach twisted as his heart stuttering to a halt. Donghyuck’s heart shaped lips pulled away with a smirk, “You’ve got a little on your-”
Donghyuck's words were swallowed as he pressed his mouth to Mark’s.