Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wednesday, 9:00AM.

“So he doesn’t remember me anymore?”

Junmyeon swallows. “It’s a time-bound targeted-memory curse, it’ll wear off. You know how these work.”

“But the binding may take weeks, years— decades, to wear off.” The answer Junmyeon receives is still devastated, unchanged by his poor attempt at comfort.

“Or it could wear off tomorrow.” Junmyeon answers patiently, voice brimming with hope. “We’re sending him to Hogwarts. The defense against the dark arts post is empty, I trust he’ll recover well there. I’m sorry, that’s all we can do for the moment.”

“Y-you can’t tell him, can you? About me?”

Junmyeon inhales sharply, heart aching. “No I— no. We can’t, it would-”

“Interrupt the timer and run the risk of making him forget forever— I-. Yes, I know. I don’t know why I asked.”

Junmyeon feels like a broken record, “I am sorry, my friend. I’ll see you soon.”



5.

Sehun wakes to the blinding light of the St. Mungo’s Auror Wing. The room is familiar, comforting. It’s been there to greet him in the aftermath of every mission, and it’s always the same; gardenias in the pot by the window, two cups on his bedside table (water on the left, orange juice on the right), jazz playing on the old radio, and Junmyeon sitting with a newspaper beside it.

“Good morning Sehun,” Junmyeon smiles.

Sehun’s cheeks feel numb, but he knows his face rearranges itself into an answering grin regardless. “Good morning.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Good—really good, actually.” He frowns. “Why am I here?”

Junmyeon straightens, his shoulders bunching up in the way they do when he’s about to start an unpleasant conversation. “Do you remember your last mission?”

“Of course. I was chasing the ‘Scrupulous Scourge.’” Sehun pauses for thought. “I caught him too, didn’t I?”

Junmyeon nods.“You did. Do you remember his MO?”

“He’s a serial killer, he kills people. Then he casts the omitus curse on the victim’s loved-ones, so they forget the victim even though the rest of their memories are intact. Ostensibly it seems merciful, but we think he’s just covering his tracks.” Sehun finishes. “—You know this, why do you need me to tell you?”

Junmyeon sighs, all of him wilting in resignation. Sehun feels the first tendrils of panic rush through him.

“Junmyeon," he repeats carefully, words slowed by apprehension. "I have no physical injuries, I feel completely normal—why am I here?”

Sehun thinks he understands, he can feel the beginning of a hunch, and his hunches have never been far off the mark. For the first time the thought brings only brings muted panic.

“I got hit didn’t I? By an omitus?”

Junmyeon exhales in a burst, “yes--yes you did.”

The room is quiet for a moment, still and stopped in time.

“I’m sorry. The omitus is the Scourge’s speciality. Even the best at St. Mungo’s don’t know how to undo it or counter it. And memory spells are risky, tricky things—“ Junmyeon hands curl over his, “—we didn’t want to mess with the timer, or accidentally damage more memories. Fortunately, back-up arrived before he could complete the curse, so it should wear-off eventually. But we don’t know when that’ll be.”

“Who-.” Sehun clears his throat and tries again: “You can’t tell me, can you?” He asks, glum.

Junmyeon shakes his head, “the diagnostic did show us the primary figure in your locked memories, but I can’t tell you. The memories will come back to you once the timer lapses, if we force it, you could forget them for good.”

“Is it just one person?”

“Yes and no. The spell is focused on one person, but you’ll also have forgotten everyone you knew through association with them.”

Sehun frowns contemplatively, “Clever fucker. There’s no way to kickstart the wearing-off process?”

Junmyeon tilts his head gently, “there are loopholes, but it wouldn’t be wise to tell you.”

Sehun sinks back into the pillows. He tries to muster anger, or sadness, or even a sense of loss. But it’s impossible, he doesn’t even know what he’s mourning the loss of.

“We’re sending you to Hogwarts,” Junmyeon clips in.

Sehun straightens once more, “the school?”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “There’s only one Hogwarts, Sehun. They need a defense against the dark arts teacher. While you're recovering, the GAA thinks you’ll be a good fit.”

Sehun snorts, the Global Aurors’ Association had always had a love-hate relationship with him, and he bets they’d jumped at the opportunity to get him out of the way. But before he can open his mouth to protest, Junmyeon cuts him off—

“The timer could lapse any time and the resulting onslaught of memories can and will endanger you in the field. So don’t even try.” Junmyeon looks up from where he’d been perusing the clipboard by Sehun’s bed. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth Sehun, it’s either Hogwarts, or probation with the filing and paperwork unit.”

Sehun scowls, sinking back into bed. Hogwarts it is.

-

“I have a friend there you know? From my days at Durmstrang —Chanyeol. He teaches care for magical creatures.” Sehun tells Junmyeon over breakfast, shovelling eggs into his mouth as he does.

Junmyeon grimaces, throwing him a napkin before snapping his fingers towards the teaspoon stirring his tea. Then he says “There’s another Korean professor there, Kim Jongin. He teaches charms.”

“Oh? He from Hogwarts? Or did he go to Sunhwa?”

Junmyeon spears a pear slice neatly, “Hogwarts. He’s your age; one of the youngest professors Hogwarts ever hired when they hired him.”

“Hogwarts will be good for you I think,” Junmyeon continues absently, watching the steam rise from his teacup. “Interesting enough to keep you from making trouble, and safe enough to keep you from harm if you do.”

“I’m not a child hyung. I’m one of the most successful field agents the GAA’s seen in decades.” Sehun grumbles, polishing away the last of his eggs.

“I know that, but you’ve also been cursed Sehun-ah. You can’t fault me for wanting to be careful.”

Silence reigns after that, awkward and misplaced in the morning sunlight.

“Could you answer something for me?” Sehun begins tentatively.

Junmyeon gently places his silverware on his folded napkin, “I can try.”

“The- the person I forgot, how close were-are they to me?”

Junmyeon pauses and Sehun watches his usually poised mentor hesitate. “That--. It wouldn’t do you any good to know the answer to that.”

And, well. That was an answer in itself wasn’t it?



4.

It was storming on the grounds when Sehun arrived at Hogwarts, the impressive landscape drenched and grayed under the rainfall. He tugged at the strap of his briefcase and hoped the water-repelling charm would last until he reached the door. It would do him no good to show up in shrunken robes on his first day of class, especially not when his expanding charms never resized cloaks just right.

There’s a figure waiting for him halfway down the path, shrouded in mist. Sehun tamps down the auror instinct to reach for his wand; for all he knows, it might be a student. He clutches his briefcase harder, pushing forward through the pelting drops and towards the waiting figure.

“Excuse me?” Sehun tentatively taps a rain-soaked shoulder. “Mr. Filch Jr.? I was told you’d be waiting for me to take me to my rooms.”

When the person turns around, it’s not the shrivelled husk of a caretaker that Sehun had been expecting. Instead he’s met with bright eyes and a distinctly Korean face.

“Sehun-ssi!” The man’s voice is warm and his handshake is firm. It’s been years since Sehun’s heard the honorific. “I didn’t hear you approaching over the rain, sorry. Filch had some work on the other end of the grounds, so I volunteered to come get you. I’m Kim Jongin, I teach charms.”

Sehun shakes away his surprise, clearing his throat. “Ah just- just Sehun is fine, I’m here from the auror’s office. I’m sure you’ve been informed?”

Jongin nods and Sehun finds his eyes tracking the handsome slopes and planes of Jongin’s face. “This way,” Jongin mutters, leading them up to the large oak doors. “Chanyeol has been talking about you nonstop. He’s very excited to see you.”

A real smile erupts on Sehun’s face at the mention of his old friend. “I’m excited to see him too, I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

Something passes over Jongin’s face, quick and curious, before it melts back into amicability. “Ah, the GAA did send a letter about your, um, predicament. I'm sorry, it’s unfortunate.”

Sehun shrugs. “Not for me, I feel the same as I’ve always felt. It’s whoever I’ve forgotten that deserves all the sympathy probably.”

Jongin wavers for a moment, and Sehun winces at how forthcoming that had been. It was quite possible that all these years of dividing his time exclusively between being undercover and being around his closest friends and family, had robbbed Sehun of the ability to have polite conversations with shy but charming strangers.

“They won’t have to wait long, I’m sure.” Jongin says finally. “The letter said the curse would wear off?”

“Yeah, but no one knows when. Which is what brings me here!” Sehun laughs wryly following Jongin into the old hallways.


The defense against the dark arts room had large windows that overlooked the lake. There was a fine layer of dust on everything, but Jongin cleared it all with a quick flick of his wand and a whispered tergeo.

“Up there,” Jongin says, motioning to the stairway in the back, “are your chambers. And this is your classroom. Inventory and teaching tools are under the stairway—be careful though. Some of those things have been around since before The War. Professor Silisby found a boggart there last summer.”

Sehun nods. “I’ll be careful, thanks. Is your classroom nearby?”

“Just down the hall, barely 15 steps away."

"I love this room,” Jongin adds abruptly after a brief second of silence, when he looks at Sehun his eyes are golden in the sunlight. “We’ve been rotating who teaches defence so we usually use our own classrooms. I used to come here to talk t-”

Jongin cuts himself off, looking suddenly startled.

“To talk to?”

Jongin shakes his head, still looking shaken. “Nothing—nothing. Sorry, I just uh, I just remembered I had to meet Professor Tripletter. Would you be okay to settle in on your own?”

Sehun might not know this man but he’s reasonably certain one doesn’t turn ashen at the thought of a meeting the way Jongin just had. But if Jongin would rather not share, he’s in no position to ask him to. “I’ll be fine.”

“Right. Um, I’ll come and get you for dinner? Chanyeol is proctoring an exam right now, but he said he’d meet us there.”

Sehun is still contemplating offering him a cup of tea, but Jongin was out of the classroom quicker than Sehun could formulate a reply. Sehun sighs and places his briefcase on the ground before making his way towards the stairway. He could make out the rough piles of boxes, stacked under heaps of old canvas and carpetting. A thin silver chain dangled from the banister and twinkled in the sunlight, and when Sehun tugged at it the dingy corner flooded with light.

Every inch of space was crammed with things, their shapes indiscriminable under the thick tent cloth that covered it all. With a twirl of his wand, Sehun sent the fabric flying across the room in a hushed sweep, sneezing at the dust it dislodged before casting another tergeo. His eyes widened at the sheer variety of material the covering revealed; old cauldrons and rusted trunks and borehole-boxes sealed shut with rows of silver locks. Sehun wouldn’t even dream of opening half of these without back-up, for fear of whatever creatures had been languishing inside for years. (That was decidedly untrue; Sehun had done far more reckless things in far worse places — but he wasn't trying to get more months added to what was essentially a arrest with more props.)

Just as he turned around to leave, a glint of gold caught his eyes. He peered over the junk curiously, clutching his wand — but deflated when he saw that it was only a mirror that had been reflecting the brilliant sunset outside the windows. Mirrors were powerful magical objects, and he wondered why this one was here.

It looked old, and Sehun had no doubt that whatever magic it carried, was much the same. He meandered through the debris until he was standing before it, and cast a quick curse diagnostic spell just in case. He stepped closer once the spell came away clean, palms slipping over the ornate edges of the frame. There was an engraving in the silver along the top, blackened with age. Sehun cast another tergeo, fingers coming to trace the words.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

Sehun’s eyes widened. He had studied this mirror for his NEWTs. The mirror of Erised, used in the pre-war era to various ends, including to keep the philosopher’s stone safe. He stepped back, heartbeat hammering in chest as he came in full view of the mirror.

The Augustus Inventory of Magical Objects claimed the mirror was supposed to show you your deepest, most desperate desire—unless you were profoundly content, in which case it would work the same as any mirror did.

Sehun was still pondering his levels of contentment, when he caught movement in the mirror. He looked up to see not just himself reflected back, but also…..Jongin?

He spun around, wondering if Jongin had somehow returned without him noticing. But the room behind Sehun was as still and empty as it had been since the charms professor had made his leave. Sehun twisted back to the mirror, eyes wide and breaths short, watching as the image of him in the mirror reached out to hold Jongin’s hand. His face in the mirror was soft— it was alien—wrinkles and fatigue smoothed out to a happy fullness with luminescent eyes.

It wasn't frightening, just odd and unexpected. And tender. Sehun had barely known Jongin an hour, but he watched as his reflection cradles his fingers between his own with practiced ease. He fought away a misplaced shudder, and turned away from the mirror in its lonely corner.

He tugged at the chain to switch off the light, plunged the nook into darkness once more, and with one last flick of his wand, he had returned the canvas cloth to where it lay earlier. The room looked as unmoved as it had before, the beginnings of dusk dyeing it a cold blue. It was no use parsing through this junk, Sehun decided, all of it was too old and too dangerous with decaying magic.



3.

Jongin stood sheepishly outside his classroom the next morning. Sehun was struck by the way he looked in the early sunlight, eyes and cheeks still rounded with sleep.

“Sorry about the way I left yesterday,” Jongin muttered, with unbearably apologetic doe eyes. “I really did have a meeting. Was dinner good?”

Dinner had been fine, to Sehun’s surprise Jongin hadn’t been in attendance. Chanyeol had come to get him from his chambers, loud and happy and warm in a way Sehun hadn’t seen anyone but his best-friend be. Chanyeol was candescent in the letters they exchanged, but he was doubly so in person. It had been a good reunion — Sehun wasn’t old by any stretch of imagination, but it had been years since he’d felt that young.

“It was.” Sehun answered simply. “But I was waiting for you to come get me Jongin-ssi.” He confides, falsely somber.

Jongin, Sehun comes to find, is remarkably easy to ruffle. His face pinks as he sputters, “I- I got busy. I had more work than I realized.”

Sehun shakes his head with a laugh. “It’s alright, I’m just joking. It was nice seeing Chanyeol.”

“Don’t get used to it, you won’t be seeing him often,” Jongin quips back. “His class timings are terrible. Three of my students who take his elective use time-turners.”

“I would expect nothing else from him.” Sehun snorts.

They walk towards the great hall, and the breakfast din gradually swallows the sound of the morning songbirds.

Breakfast was surprisingly comfortable. Jongin was shy but easygoing. He ate and gesticulated in a manner entirely unique to him, and for that reason he was enthralling to watch. His hands flew over the food, clumsy and unstudied, but still graceful in a way that Sehun couldn't quite pinpoint.

“Are you a dancer?” he blurted, interrupting Jongin’s long-winded introduction of the faculty (which Sehun should’ve been listening to, but he was still half-hoping he’d be out of here within a month’s time).

Jongin paused, eyes wide, mouth open, and butter knife awkwardly held against his toast.

“How'd you know?”

“Auror’s intuition.” Sehun smiles crookedly, watching in delight as Jongin fidgets abashedly.

Jongin takes him to the library after, their robes swishing together in the windy corridors. It's pretty, not as nice as the one at Durmstrang, but it was possible that Sehun was biased. Jongin walks him straight to the sections in the back, where the bookcases were imposingly tall and the students were scarce. The shelves on this side were all mahogany and a section further back had grills behind the glass panes. To make up for the lack of windows, the titles had been illuminated by floating lamps. It was beautiful.

“Bringing me to a lonely corner of the library? I might get all the wrong ideas Jongin-ssi."

“I--no.” Jongin sputters. “It’s not like that, you know it.”

“I couldn’t resist,” Sehun smiles, but when he finally turns his gaze to the books Jongin had brought him to he found himself awed.

The shelves were stacked endlessly with immaculate editions, leather-bound and beautiful, and golden step-ladders were charmed to patrol the hallway.

“I charmed them you know,” Jongin said, tracing Sehun’s gaze to the wheeled step-ladder rolling past them. “They show up when you need to get a book above the fourth shelf, and they keep students away from the forbidden section. Two birds, one stone!”

“Clever,” Sehun hums, eyes finding Jongin’s again. “I would’ve hated having you for a professor when I was in school.”

In a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, world-shattering turn of events, Jongin pouts. Nothing more than the tiniest protrusion of his lower lip, but Sehun felt stupidly smitten.

“I got a holiday bonus for doing it,” Jongin said dismissively, a wry upturn to his lips. “I have no regrets.”

It was obvious from the way he navigates the shelves that Jongin is familiar with the library. He confirmed as much when he softly says, "I used to spend most of my time here, even as a student."

"I figured. No quidditch for you?" Sehun follows behind him.

"No--I was a dancer, remember?" Jongin finally stops in front of one of the shelves with grills inside. "You'll find most of the defense books here, some of them are over on the other side, but all the best ones are here."

Sehun studies the intimidating volumes and gilded first-editions, he recognizes most of them from his own auror training. "This is advanced stuff for kids who haven't even mastered a protego yet.”

Jongin smiles, indulgent. "This is for you, not for them. You could use this time to improve your own arsenal."

Sehun shrugged. "I got through most of these years ago, I don't know if they'd have much to teach me now. Experience will teach you things books just can’t. And for everything I don't know, I have you-" He's about to wink again just to watch Jongin turn pink, but he's suddenly struck by realization, "-shit! You're a charms professor aren't you? You have to have heard of the Omitus!"

Jongin looks uncomfortable for a moment, and Sehun briefly wonders if he's about to turn and leave like he did last night. But then Jongin asks,

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me how it works!" Sehun answers, enthused, as Jongin walks them over to the secluded table by the window. Sehun sits opposite him, palms folded together on the table as he gazes at Jongin with anticipation.

"You know how it works.” Jongin begins distractedly, “it's a targeted memory curse, the victim selectively forgets only whatever the spell-caster targets while the rest of their memory remains intact. It got outlawed in the sixties because of how often it was used in property disputes."

Sehun nodded encouragingly. "What about people? What about when the targeted memory is a person and not property or an object?"

"That's harder to do. You would have to know who you're trying to make the victim forget. The face and name would be the hooks on which you mount the spell, so to speak."

Sehun frowns, "that's not always how it works though, is it?"

Jongin looks distinctly uncomfortable now, the corners of his lips pulled down. "No, not always."

"So how did he do it? How did the Scourge know who to make me forget?”

Jongin is quiet for a moment, and Sehun can see him mulling over the words. He looks beautiful in the afternoon sun, and Sehun wonders uncharacteristically if it would really be so terrible to stay at Hogwarts for the next few years.

Jongin speaks then, saving him from the errant thought: "The people you meet, leave imprints on your consciousness," Jongin's eyes slip to the window. "Like footsteps in your memories."

"The more memories you share, the more footsteps there are." Jongin looks at him again, elbow resting on the table and palm reaching up to support his chin. "Imagine how easy it would be to trace those footsteps back to someone you love--all those memories and thoughts. To a skilled wizard, it would be as easy as following a well-beaten path through a forest."

Sehun winces, "so I've forgotten someone important?"

Jongin studies the tabletop, fingers tracing over the wood in hypnotic circles. "They would have to be, for him to make you forget them without a name or a face."

The rest of the afternoon is oddly subdued.


-

Chanyeol invites Sehun to drink on the Friday that marks the end of his first week of classes.

“Cheers to you for completing your first week on a job I never thought I’d see you have!” Chanyeol howls, his twelfth shot of the night clutched in his fist.

Sehun downs his shot, sputtering at the burn before slamming the lemon wedge between his lips.

“Why didn’t you just charm it to not burn?” Jongin whines from beside him, clutching the lemon wedge and a bottle of water in a death grip.

“It’s no fun that way.” Chanyeol answers self-importantly, already handing out their second drinks. “Muggles didn’t get a lot right, but they know how to drink.”

Chanyeol had an extensive liquor collection, from expensive muggle wine to the coveted Firewhisky Christmas capsules. He takes pride in it, Sehun remembers a letter from years ago where Chanyeol had written about building his own bar ‘the muggle way.’ Sehun finds himself thinking of the times they spent sneaking out into bars when they were younger. Hoping and praying some loser with muggle currency would give them the time of day.

Chanyeol must be feeling similarly nostalgic because he slapped his palm on Jongin’s shoulder, laughing loudly as he regales tale after tale of Sehun and his misadventures.

“We snuck to Los Angeles using a portkey once,” Chanyeol swipes at his eyes. “I got us both black suits and sunglasses, and we gatecrashed a houseparty. They thought we were celebrities,” Chanyeol giggles.

Sehun smiles, tipping his chin back as he downs the rest of the whisky in his glass. The heat nestles nicely in his throat, charmed to linger there for a moment.

"Chanyeol's cousin has a floo network on his yacht," Sehun sets the empty glass on the coffee table, “you can only imagine the possibilities.” He settles back into Chanyeol's couch, sinking into the feeling of time slowing around him.

Jongin sits next to him flushed already, hair messy and laughter spilling easily from his lips. He's close enough that Sehun can feel the heat of his shoulder against his own. Sehun’s thoughts take an unwelcome turn for the sultrier; sneaking into bars and kissing strangers in the bathrooms, kissing bartenders in back-rooms, sometimes even kissing Chanyeol in dark corners of the dance floor. Sehun frowns.

Work might've been busy, but Sehun can’t remember the last time Chanyeol and him had gone out.

"Chanyeol?" he calls, louder than he means to but his alcohol-addled senses pay it no mind. "It's been a while since we've gone out hasn't it? It can't have been 6 years."

"Mmm no, of course not. Didn't we go two months ago?" Chanyeol answers absently, trying to fish the cork out of his bottle.

Sehun frowns harder. "Did we? I can't remember at all."

He would've pursued the thought further if Jongin hadn't chosen that particular moment to drop his head onto Sehun's shoulder. He was unbearably warm, rumpled and rounded-out by alcohol and the lateness of the hour. Sehun wonders if it was Jongin or the whiskey in his blood that made his heart jump in his chest.

Chanyeol grins. "You two look cozy, on your way to being fast friends."

Jongin bats at him half-heartedly. "Drinking makes me sleepy."

"I know," Chanyeol rolls his eyes. "You can't ever expect much from a night-out with Jonginie."

There's an ease to the exchange that Sehun is strangely envious of. How many nights had they spent like this? With Jongin's head on Chanyeol's shoulder instead? When he was younger, Sehun had no use for such sentimentalities, but now he wonders if his hectic life as an auror has robbed him of the comfort of old friendships. He can't for the life of him remember the last time Chanyeol and him hung out before he got to Hogwarts.

"I'm going to get refills." Chanyeol announces, rising from the couch, empty glasses clutched precariously to his chest. Sehun would usually offer to help, but right now he would rather chew off his arm than displace Jongin, who is sleepy-soft and leaning further into him with every passing second.

"I'm not getting more for you though Jongin, you're good for the night."

Jongin mimics Chanyeol petulantly under his breath, but doesn't contest the claim. Sehun half expects him to be awkward when Chanyeol leaves, but drunk Jongin is far more relaxed than sober Jongin, with none of his nervous energy hovering around him. His head jostles against Sehun's neck, and he makes a contented noise in his throat. When Sehun looks down, he finds Jongin already looking up at him, eyes startlingly lucid for a moment, and twinkling like he's holding back either a smile or a secret.

"You're sweet," Sehun blurts, whisky-stupid. "Pretty Jongin." Sehun lets a thumb trace along his cheekbone, cocooned safely in the courage that comes with being drunk.

He expects Jongin to flush again, like he had this morning. But Jongin tilts into the gesture with surprising ease, sleepy and smiley and--

The moment is broken by the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen.

"Fuck!--It's okay, I'm okay!" Chanyeol calls from somewhere further inside. "I'll be there in a sec."

It doesn't matter though, Jongin has already shot out of Sehun's arms, looking panic-stricken. Sehun's hands fall loosely to his side as he watches Jongin collect his things from around the room.

"I--I have to go!" Jongin says, looking like he did the first night they'd met. "Sorry--um, it's not you or anything. I just have an early class, I should go."

And then he's gone before Sehun can wish him goodnight.

Chanyeol comes back to the room clutching two brightly colored drinks, and frowns when he sees that the number of occupants has reduced.

"Jongin left?"

"Yeah--said something about early class." Sehun runs a hand through his hair.

"That's never stopped him from crashing here before." Chanyeol mumbles, setting the glasses on the table before throwing himself in the newly-vacated spot by Sehun’s side.

Sehun exhales. "I get the feeling that I make him nervous, or uncomfortable. Or both? Maybe both."

Chanyeol takes a generous sip, "what do you mean?"

"He did this the first time we met too, just suddenly up-and-left. Is it something he does often?"

Chanyeol licks the salt from the rim of his glass, lips smacking together in thought. "No, but, um--. Don't think too much of it okay? He’ll get over whatever’s bothering him."

Sehun gapes at Chanyeol. "Don’t think too much about how someone— someone I'll be spending most of the foreseeable future around— actively scrambles to get away from me?"

"Okay, fair." Chanyeol takes another sip, looking very much like he was trying to steel himself.

"He, um," Chanyeol begins again, voice suddenly more grave. "Jongin lost someone he loved to a memory spell too."

Sehun gasps, "they died!?"

Chanyeol side-eyes him, markedly unimpressed. "No—of course not, memory spells don't kill. Aren't you an auror or something?"

Sehun rolls his eyes. "Go on."

"They were important to Jongin, and they forgot him."

"Only him?" Sehun asks, eyes wide. "Shit, was it an omitus?"

Chanyeol's lips press together, "I don't know about that, but maybe that's why he acts out around you. Don’t think about it too much.” He repeats.



The events of the night stay with Sehun when he returns to his room, Chanyeol’s words crackling over his thoughts like radio static. All of it swirls through his mind in a drunken jumble as he pulls off his socks and coat. He's about to slip under the duvet when the irresistible urge hits him, Jongin's face against his shoulder still clear in his mind's eye.

He steps into his slippers and makes his way back down the stairs to the moonlit classroom. Before he can consciously decide against it, Sehun finds himself walking towards the mirror, chest warm with anticipation. He pulls away the worn canvas covering it, eyes tracing the carvings before slipping down to the mirror.

He's met by the image of two familiar figures once more: Jongin smiling with his face pushed into a happy Sehun's shoulder. Sehun studies it for a moment, eyes snagging on every point of contact, before he lays the canvas cloth back over the frame.

He doesn't understand what the mirror means—if it means anything beyond rusty magic wreaking havoc on his peace of mind. But he won’t deny that something about the image is innately comforting for reasons beyond anything Sehun can fathom, drunk or sober.



3.

Sehun’s first few months at Hogwarts pass in a strange blur. He finds himself caught between the nostalgia from his own school days, and the gentle distress of being responsible for students who seemed so small and sheltered in comparison to the aurors he trained alongside.

Jongin delights in Sehun’s tales about one particular student who always defaulted to transfiguration spells as a defence.

“I know Lia! I taught her those spells,” he giggles. “She’s very good at turning things to lamps.”

Sehun finds himself smiling, despite the irritated facade he was trying to keep. “That doesn’t mean she should be trying to turn her friends into them too! It’s a hassle turning them back to themselves.”

He’s only really complaining because he can tell it makes Jongin laugh. The man had been surprisingly easy to get along with, his propensity for abrupt departures notwithstanding. He was quick to laugh and quick to pout, and far more relaxed now that their friendship had weathered a few month. Easy and light where it used to be awkward and stilted.

Sehun finds himself looking forward to the afternoon bell on most days; Chanyeol had class during those hours, but he’d gotten used to meeting Jongin out in the lawns. Today the sun shone on the rocks they were perched on by the old groundskeeper’s hut, everything lilting and golden in the soft breeze. Just when Sehun was certain the afternoon couldn’t get more perfect, Jongin pulled out a bundle of cloth from his coat.

“My grandmother has a berry farm,” he smiles, eyes glimmering in the sunlight. “She sends some over every autumn.”

He holds out the neat bundle of raspberries, face unbearably sweet. Sehun wonders if anyone has ever had the strength to deny Kim Jongin. He pops a berry into his mouth, humming at the sharp burst of tartness on his tongue.

“I love raspberries, these are amazing.”

“I thought you might like them,” Jongin eats some as well. “Chanyeol likes to turn them into preserves. She sends him a package too.”

Sehun leans back against the rock. “If I’d known that life as a professor came with these benefits, I’d have quit being an auror long ago.”

“You wouldn’t.” Jongin denies, easy and immediate.

Sehun's eyebrows pitch up in question. “What do you mean?”

Jongin shakes his head, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. I just-- I know your type. You’d get bored without the adrenaline rush.”

Sehun sits up. “That’s— not wrong. But I do resent you clubbing me into a ‘type’ with all the other ruffians you’ve spent time with. Was it an ex-boyfriend? Is that it? Is he an auror? I might know him.”

Jongin laughs. “No, no ex-boyfriend. I- um. I put it together from spending time with you— and from what Chanyeol’s told me about you.”

Sehun groans, “Chanyeol is the last person to be talking about anyone else being a glutton for danger. What else did you put together?”

Jongin snorts, even though his cheeks colour lightly. “Nothing like what you’re thinking. It just sounded like you really loved your job.”

Sehun exhales. “Yeah and look where it got me.”

Jongin makes a small questioning sound in the back of his throat.

“On probation, playing professor.” Sehun shakes his head, eyes studying the grass by his feet. “Of all things for an auror to be cursed with, this one’s definitely the least impressive.”

“Impressive? That’s what you’re thinking about?” Jongin’s tone is unexpectedly sharp, and when Sehun glances up in surprise, Jongin’s expression has turned stormy.

And suddenly the afternoon isn’t quite so sunny any more.

“You could’ve lost your life! And instead you come away relatively unscathed only to complain about it not being impressive? Unbelievable.”

Sehun gapes as Jongins stands, fingers running through his hair in agitation. “What happened to feeling bad about the person you forgot huh?”

Sehun frowns. “Look, I’m-I’m not sure that’s entirely fair.” Sehun sighs, standing up so he can be level with Jongin’s gaze.

“Chanyeol- um, Chanyeol told me that someone important to you got hit with a memory spell like this one once-”

Suddenly Jongin goes from angry to furious. “Oh he told you that, did he? Did he also tell you that I’m not allowed to tell them about it myself? Did he tell you that I can’t—that he can’t-”

Sehun sees it happen once more, the way he’s seen it happen twice before. Jongin’s expression shutters suddenly, caught between fear and shock. And Sehun watches as Jongin readies himself for his usual abrupt departure.

Sehun isn’t sure what grips him this time, but before he realizes, his arms have shot out to grab Jongin by the elbow, pulling him back. Auror reflexes, Junmyeon would say.

“You keep doing that, stop it!” Sehun says, more firmly than he would’ve liked.

Jongin’s eyes are shocked and glittery with frustration. “Doing what?”

Leaving, Sehun thinks. But that’s too much and too vague and too baring. When Jongin’s voice wavers, Sehun finds that he doesn’t have it in him to push Jongin around this way. “I’m sorry, shit--you can go. I didn’t mean to drag you back like that.”

Except Jongin looks apologetic too now, his features softening in a way that makes Sehun’s heart clench. “No--no, I'm sorry. Ch-Chanyeol’s right. I, um, I did lose someone to a memory spell. Sorry about snapping at you like that, it’s still fresh.”

“So it was recent?” Sehun asks before he can think about it.

Jongin suddenly looks conflicted again, slowly closing in on himself. Sehun shakes his head ruefully. “You don’t have to tell me, sorry I keep asking.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the sun dipping behind clouds. Then Jongin clears his throat and asks, “would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me?”


-

Hogsmeade isn’t as busy as it is on the weekends. There’s a handful of people strolling about as they purchase groceries, and for the most part the two professors go unnoticed.

Jongin drags him to Honeydukes first, his palm warm around Sehun’s wrist.

“I have to send my sister the rum-rollups.”

Sehun grimaces. “That sounds disgusting.”

Jongin grins back cheerily. “It is! They taste like cough syrup, but she loves it. So I try to send her a parcel every month.”

They meander around the cobbled street in dusky light, Sehun following Jongin as he scratches-off errand after errand on a crumpled piece of parchment he keeps retrieving from his pocket. Sehun decides to relieve him of the paper bags dangling from his wrist.

“Let me hold some so you can look at your list easier,” he says, wrestling away some of the bags despite Jongin’s vehement protest.

And it’s—nice. Any remnants of their brief argument evaporate under the light of the setting sun, and Sehun is glad to be here with Jongin. Kind, pretty Jongin, with a secret he refuses to share with Sehun.

“Okay last stop, then we can head to the three broomsticks.” Jongin announces, tucking his list back into his pocket and rubbing his fingers over the cold-flushed tip of his nose.

There’s a stationary shop tucked into a narrow cul-de-sac that breaks away from the main artery of the market. It’s old from the looks of it, an oak plaque over the front, and a burnished brass bell by the entrance.

“They have medicinal ink!” Jonging mutters excitedly as he pushes inside. “I get migraines while doing corrections, so Kyungsoo makes me special ink to help with them.”

The store is empty when they enter, well-lit and filled with the dry scent of new parchment and unused quills. The scent is oddly familiar, and Sehun can’t shake away the feeling of having been here before. He studies the creamy rolls of parchment mounted on the wall, and the wax station by the window, and the feeling of familiarity expands inside him. It grows and grows, pulsing behind his temples and sharpening to a peak—he feels the same way as he feels when he’s on the brink of recalling a word he hasn’t been able to remember for days.

But it amounts to nothing ultimately, because the silence is suddenly broken by a short, stocky man emerging from the backroom.

“Jonginie, it’s about time—” but his voice breaks off when he catches sight of Sehun, and a wide grin takes its place. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be visiting you brat! I would’ve kept some of the carpal-tunnel remedy out for you too. You know how Jongin forgets-“

“Sehun!” Jongin cuts in sharply, jerking his attention away from the shopkeeper, “Sehun, I left my bags outside when I pulled out my list I think. Could you go check for me?”

Jongin’s voice sounds urgent enough to push Sehun into movement even before he can consciously decide to. When he walks back out of the storefront, evening soaks the sky and Sehun has to cast a lumos to aid his search.

His thoughts fly back to the shopkeeper, to the familiarity of the store. He wonders how he knows him—had Sehun been here before? He completes his half-hearted search and finds Jongin’s bags piled neatly next to the door where Sehun had left them. Fond exasperation floods through him, and Sehun walks back inside eager to complete his conversation with the man by the desk.

But whatever familiarity had lit up the shopkeeper’s—Kyungsoo, Jongin calls him—eyes, was gone now. He looked abashed as he caught Sehun’s questioning gaze.

“Sorry, I- I mistook you for someone else.” Kyungsoo clears his throat, “would you like something?”

Sehun shakes his head, dazed, and walks towards where Jongin is tucked between two shelves of parchment.

When they leave the store, two brand new pots of ink clinking gently between them, Sehun whispers, “I’m sure I’ve been here before.”

“Really? Kyungsoo is pretty picky about his customers, he would’ve recognized you.”

He did, Sehun thinks. He’s been an auror too long to not be able to distinguish lies from truths. But he doesn't prod further.



It’s dark by the time they reach the grounds. Jongin had placed his arm in the crook of Sehun’s elbow so that they could apparate together, and he absently leaves it there even while they trek up to their chambers.

“You know it’s mandatory for St. Mungo’s to report splinchings to the auror department.”

Jongin frowns, checking his own travel cloak for apparition-tears. “It is? Why?”

“Criminals on the run splinch a lot—usually cause they’re in a hurry. It’s helped us catch plenty of robbers and abusive husbands.”

“Huh. Who would’ve thought.”

Sehun grins. “That’s not all though. The second-most common reason for splinching is accidental mid-coital apparition.”

Jongin stares incredulously. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“People accidentally apparating while having sex? Yeah, absolutely. Those reports still have to be processed by aurors you know? It’s hell.”

“I take it, that was your responsibility?”

Sehun snorts. “It was almost a side-job. I used to cut contact on missions a lot, and Junmyeon used to punished me by making me do the sex-splinching paperwork.” He shrugs and yawns, “I wonder which poor sucker’s stuck with those files now.”

Jongin’s laugh chimes through the hallways, softened by exhaustion. He’s most gorgeous when he laughs, Sehun decides, already begrudgingly accepting the way his heart hammers happily around the young charms professor.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he blurts, catching Jongin mid-laugh.

“A movie?”

“Yeah- I, uh,” he briefly considers backtracking, but Oh Sehun has never been a coward, and he isn't going to start being one now. “I found a projector under the stairs--um, a projector is--”

“I know what a projector is, Sehun,” the laughter on Jongin’s face dissolves into gentle amusement. “My parents are muggles. Are you sure this projector isn’t cursed?”

Sehun huffs, “I used to be an auror you know— of course it isn’t cursed! I checked. They used it for lectures I think.”

“Which movie?”

Sehun shrugs, “I don’t know, I’m sure there’s plenty to choose from.”

But in truth, there isn’t plenty to choose from. Most of the collection had decayed with age and succumbed to moisture. It becomes apparent halfway through their search that only a single disc had escaped unscathed.

“Mary Poppins?!” Jongin squawks. “This can’t be real.”

“It’s about the company, not the movie.” Sehun admonishes, grinning the entire time.

Jongin begrudgingly agrees and they manage to levitate the bulky projector to Sehun’s room. Sehun is once again struck by his lack of forethought when he realizes that he doesn’t have any furniture besides his bed upstairs.

Jongin seems to anticipate his dilemma. “We can just sit on either side—unless of course you’d rather not. I could levitate your desk-chair from below?”

Sehun shakes his head vigorously. “No no, the bed is fine. Would you be okay with that?”

Jongin doesn’t hesitate. “Yes, now hurry. I get sleepy embarrassingly early.”

The movie is fine--the same as it’s always been. Julie Andrews sings over the sound of the storm brewing outside, and the lonely light of the projector makes the room shrink around them. The lateness of the hour eats at the space between them, drawing them closer with the same tentativeness as someone moving slowly to shield a candle from the wind.

By the half-way mark, Jongin’s warmth is palpable against Sehun’s arm. The night progresses and Jongin slumps further, slipping lower and lower against the headboard until finally, his head is comfortably level with Sehun’s shoulder. Three-fourths’ of the way through, Jongin’s breaths puff rhythmically against the side of Sehun’s neck, and Sehun feels the weight of sleep dragging his own eyelids shut.



2.

The morning that follows, is surprisingly lacking in awkwardness. Jongin had woken with his cold nose tucked against Sehun’s bicep and his hair curling in every direction possible. He had sat up, the sun shining through his bedhead and making him look like a rogue dandelion, and gifted Sehun the most content of smiles.

Sehun is relieved of whatever lingering worry he had about how this would change their relationship. Despite their newfound closeness and the ease with which Jongin banters with him, Sehun can’t quite shake off the apprehension that accompanied the early days of their friendship.

Jongin still seems on edge sometimes, eyes shifting away from Sehun abruptly and sentences stopping halfway into themselves. But, it’s a relief to see the professor happy this morning, humming to himself as he waits for Sehun to get ready for breakfast.

Sehun studies him for a moment, before the oddest idea strikes him.

“Jongin, come with me for a sec?”

He leads him downstairs, to the storage underneath the staircase. Sehun had cleared a significant amount away with Jongin’s help over the weekends, but he’d never asked Jongin about the mirror.

With the way Jongin gasps when Sehun pulls away the cover, Sehun guesses he recognizes what the mirror is.

“Crazy, right? I think it’s been here since the war.”

But when Sehun turns to ask Jongin what he sees, he finds Jongin’s gaze turned resolutely away.

“Hey, you okay?” Sehun asks, and the same apprehension from before begins crawling under his skin, like he’s messed up somehow.

Oddly enough, Jongin turns back with a smile that might’ve fooled Sehun weeks ago. Not anymore though, not when he’s spent months tracking the tiniest shifts in Jongin’s expressions in the same careful way that flowers learn to tilt towards sunlight.

“Sorry, I’m still a little sleepy.” Jongin chuckles apologetically, and it’s a most fragile facade.

Sehun lets him have it for now. “I’m pretty sure this thing is broken but,” Sehun turns to him, “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?”

Jongin looks panicked for a moment, a brief flash of it in his eyes. But he smoothes it over with a smile once again.

“Is this how you flirt professor?” He laughs.

Sehun rolls his eyes. “Fine I’ll go first—and don’t take this the wrong way, because I swear I don’t get it either—. I, uh, I see you and me.”

Jongin gapes at him like a fish out of water.

Sehun continues, if only to curb the awkwardness. “I’ve been seeing you in it since the day we first met. Weird right?”

Jongin doesn’t speak at all though, just stares at him in shock before. Finally, finally:

“Are you actually trying to make a move on me using the mirror of Erised!?”

Despite himself, Sehun flushes to his hairline—admittedly, he hadn’t considered how this would look.

“No, I’m telling you the truth.” Sehun retorts, agitated and urgent. “What part of me telling you that it might be broken did you not hear?”

“Oh so it would have to be broken for you to see me?” There’s real amusement lining Jongin’s eyes now, even if Sehun can tell he’s doing his best to avoid answering Sehun’s initial inquiry.

“You know it’s not like that,” Sehun’s smile is exasperated. “Now your turn.”

Jongin hesitates again, turning closer to the mirror in timid movements. Sehun studies his face, but to no avail. He gives nothing away.

Minutes later, Jongin speaks again.

“It’s me, my three puppies, and my baby niece,” he answers, a soft smile to his voice.

“Dogs and a child?! That’s what you were being so cagey about?” Sehun asks indignantly. “After I just bared my soul?”

Jongin still won’t meet his eye, but there's a coy tilt to his lips. “Can’t give away all my secrets so soon Sehun-ssi.”




1.

The first crack appears 9 months from the day that Sehun first arrived at Hogwarts. It’s the peak of winter and snow blankets the path to Hogsmeade. The campus begins emptying out for Christmas, and soon it’s just a handful of students and professors.

Jongin takes him to the owlery four days before Christmas, a hefty package under his arm, and his fingers tucked warmly between Sehun’s. He charms the parcel to be lighter, before securing it to his owl (“Taeyong is a dumb name for an owl, I know people who are named that!” “Well, Vivi is a dumb name for a dog, and you don’t see me criticising you.”)

“Why aren’t you just apparating back home? You could do it from Hogsmeade.” Sehun says as they watch Taeyong fly away.

Jongin shakes his head, “I want to be here. I visited last weekend, they won’t miss me too much.”

While Sehun is secretly grateful for the company and for the warmth, he insists: “Of course they’d miss you, there isn’t a person who knows you that doesn’t miss you when you’re not around.”

Jongin laughs, loud and honest. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Will it get me a date?”

“Depends. Where are you taking me?”

“You remember I told you I used to play quidditch?” Sehun scratches the back of his head. “Well this Christmas, I realized that being an auror stopped me from doing too many of the things I loved. So, I went out and bought myself the newest Firebolt of the season.”

Jongin squeezes his hand and when Sehun looks at him, his face is tender. “That’s amazing. Do you want me to come and watch you fly?”

“Watch me?” Sehun scoffs, even though his chest is alight with warmth. “That wouldn’t be much of a date, would it? I want you to come fly with me.”



Sunset finds them on the quidditch field, the green grass smothered by a layer of white.

“Okay, you have to hold on to me—tight.” Sehun urges, he’s sure Jongin can hear the smile in his voice.

Jongin straddles the broom behind him, arms coming to wrap warmly around Sehun’s middle. The soft cashmere of his beanie brushes against the back of Sehun’s neck briefly, before he finally settles.

“Alright stud,” Jongin speaks into his ear, close enough to make Sehun shiver. “Fly me to the moon.”

Sehun kicks off with a comfortable push, surprised at how smooth the new model is. The magic is refined enough that their ascent is easy, flying higher and higher into the moonlit clouds. He doesn’t even have to incline it much, and Jongin is cozy against his back even as the cool night air rushes past his face.

“You sure this isn’t too fast?” Jongin yells over the sound of the wind.

“Once we get high enough I’ll stop,” Sehun shouts back, briefly turning to nose Jongin’s soft cashmere-clad head over his shoulder. Jongin must feel it because his arms tighten around his waist.

Except right as they hit the first snow cloud, the broom judders and creaks. The wind up here isn’t pleasant, just biting and harsh.

“Sehun? Is that normal?” Jongin asks, voice strained.

“No--no I don’t think so,” Sehun answers, knuckles white over the handle. “I should’ve tested it out first.”

Jongin moves closer, his thighs bracketing Sehun’s. “It’s alright, let’s--”

He gets cut-off by more violent shaking, and Sehun’s heart plummets to his stomach as the broom suddenly drops. Jongin inhales sharply in ears, and his hold turns bruising. The broom levels again after two gut-wrenching seconds.

“Sehun I think you should land now, I don’t--”

He gets interrupted as they drop once more, free-falling as the ground draws closer and closer. Jongin’s hold on his ribs is crushing, and he keeps up a frightened murmur of sehunsehunsehunsehun.

Sehun feels frozen with panic, utterly helpless as the broom gets closer and closer to the ground.

“Jongin--Jongin I need you to jump off, okay?” Sehun swallows, heart working overtime. “I’ll make sure you don’t hit the ground. But I can’t make that happen if you don’t let go.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jongin gasps, voice shaky. “That won’t leave me enough time to save you, I’m not doing that.”

Except Sehun’s already made up his mind for him. Auror reflexes kicking-in as adrenaline floods his veins, he pulls his wand out from where it’s tucked in his sleeve, and points it to where Jongin’s arms are clasped around his waist.

“Sehun don’t you dar-”

“Flipendo” Sehun shouts, 20 feet from the ground.

Jongin’s arms rip away from him as he shoots off the broom, shocked and suspended in the air for a moment, before plunging downwards.

“Arresto momentum,” Sehun bites out, voice torn. He’s barely 10 feet from the ground now, and he watches as Jongin gets suspended safely a foot away from the unforgiving surface of the field.

And that’s the last thing he sees before the broom splinters against the earth and jerks him backwards and into blackness.




For the second time in the past year, Sehun wakes up in a hospital. But this one isn’t familiar in the way the St. Mungo’s auror-wing is, and Sehun isn’t quite so physically unscathed. There’s an excruciating headache building behind his temples, and no orange juice on his bed-side table.

“Sehun?” a voice asks softly from his side, and he turns to see Chanyeol, wide eyes filled with concern.

Sehun opens his mouth to answer but falls back into blackness before he can.


He revives to a voice chiding him.

“You’re lucky the broomstick vaulted off the ground before you did. Even I wouldn’t have been able to save you if you’d broken your neck.”

Minseok’s eyes peer at him, clear and calculating as he meticulously casts one healing spell after another. Gradually, the fog in Sehun’s mind clears and headache begins to abate.

“Couldn’t you have waited until after Christmas time to crack your skull open?” Minseok complains, retreating back to the chair by Sehun’s side.

“Minseok hyung?” Sehun winces at how dry his throat is, and Minseok wordlessly passes him a flask of water. “What’re you doing here?”

Minseok heads the auror wing of St. Mungo’s, he’s an important man. Sehun doesn’t think he has much time to be making detours to Hogwarts.

“Junmyeon sent me, he was worried about you. He told me you’ve been recovering from some curse. You’re lucky Jongin told us on time--”

“You met Jongin?”

Minseok looks confused for a moment. “Of course--I’ve--. Anyway, your file says you're under the omitus?”

Sehun frowns groggily. “Hmm?”

Minseok waves his arms placatingly. “Nothing, sorry, just making sure it doesn’t clash with my healing spells. Yes, I met Jongin, he was quite worried about you. Not that he should’ve been; the amount of damage your cranium has sustained and survived—it’s made out of steel at this point.” He playfully flicks Sehun’s temple.

Sehun rubs at the spot, lips furling into a pout. “Where is he now?”

Minseok huffs. “You drag me away from Christmas with my family, and you’re not even going to ask me how I’m doing?”

Sehun can’t help the big smile that spreads over lips. “Right, sorry. How is my favorite Minseokie hyung?”



Sehun falls back asleep after Minseok leaves, soothed by the spells and syrups that Minseok plied him with.

He wakes for the third time that day to the face he’s been hoping to see. Jongin looks unharmed, he wears a soft robe over his pajamas, looking small and cold under the high ceilings of the hospital wing. His eyes widen when Sehun reaches out and tugs him forward towards the bed.

“You’re awake,” Jongin gasps, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m mad at you.”

Sehun huffs, “don’t be like that.”

“You could’ve died.” Jongin says, eyes far from smiling.

“Everyone keeps forgetting, but I used to be an auror. That’s pretty standard.”

Jongin frowns harder at that. “You didn’t even let me help you.”

Sehun turns towards where he's sitting, arm slipping under his pillow and cushioning his head. “We were a little short on time.”

Jongin stares at him for a moment longer, and his expression is indecipherable.

“I’m not going on a date with you ever again.” Is what he finally settles on.

But in the same breath, he climbs under the blanket beside Sehun. His head tucks under Sehun’s chin, and he props his knee against Sehun’s hip.

“Don’t do that again, I’m serious.”

Sehun doesn’t answer, just gathers Jongin closer to him for a moment.

“You know I’ve been having the weirdest dream.” Sehun begins, tongue swiping over his chapped lips. His heart picks up slightly in his chest, and he wonders if Jongin has noticed. “Over and over again, I keep dreaming of us kissing in my apartment—not here, the one I have in London by the entrance to the Ministry.”

Jongin makes a tired amused sound in the back of his throat. “Oh? The concussion making life exciting for you Sehun-ssi ?”

“Don’t know, maybe.” Sehun drags a hand through Jongin’s hair, brushing it back as Jongin presses closer. “Junmyeon didn’t let me go back to my apartment after they discharged me from St. Mungo’s because he didn’t want me to accidentally see a trigger and forget completely. And it’s weird ‘cause I know you’ve never been to my apartment, but--”

He pulls away from Jongin, turns to his side so they’re eye to eye on the pillowcase. “But I know it isn’t a dream. It’s not, it doesn’t feel like one. There are too many details, the scent of your perfume, the cardigan you’re wearing, the scratch of vinyl—it's happened, hasn’t it? It has to have.”

And Jongin looks stricken, his eyes wild and his breaths puffing hard and fast from between his lips.

Sehun wraps an arm around his waist, and tugs him closer. He can feel the way Jongin’s heart hammers beneath his ribs, bruising and erratic. His memories don’t flood back—of course they don’t—but something slides neatly into place. Like the right key slipping into the right lock—not quite turning yet, but fitting there perfectly.

“It’s just one memory, maybe ‘cause I got hit on the head?” Sehun whispers into the suffocating silence, voice tight with emotion. “B-but I think I know who I forgot—you don’t have to answer, I know you can’t.” He soothes, watching as Jongin’s eyes start glimmering with moisture. “It’s okay.”

Jongin suddenly breaks into a sob, curling in on himself as if startled by the sound. He doesn’t stop though, shoulders and ribs heaving as he cries. Sehun pulls him closer once more, cheek resting against Jongin’s temple and palms smoothing down his back, his side. His tears are warm against Sehun’s neck, and each heaving breath threatens to crack Sehun’s heart further.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” is all Sehun can say.



0.

A year and a month to the day he first arrived at Hogwarts, Sehun remembers.

He expects it to be explosive. Sharp and sudden like being slammed against the quidditch field on a cold wintery evening.

But instead, it pours over him like rainfall. There is nothing shocking or abrupt about it; each recalled memory seeps into him, fitting perfectly into a space he hadn’t even known existed. He sweeps aside his sheets with a ragged breath, cool feet slipping on the old stone of Hogwarts castle as he rushes past its empty corridors.

It’s still early in the morning, far too early for anyone to be up. Even the sun has barely begun its ascent, a singular spot of light low on the horizon. The floor is cold and the morning mist makes each exhalation a cloud before him as he runs.

But it doesn’t matter because Oh Sehun is a complete man. A year and a month to the day, he is complete.

He bursts into Jongin’s classroom, uncaring of the ruckus as he stumbles his way up the stairs to Jongin’s bedroom. Jongin’s already sitting up, looking startled and sleepy as his hair sticks up in every direction.

“You ogay?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

Sehun doesn’t think about it, he throws himself onto Jongin’s duvet, hands reaching for Jongin’s. He studies them for a moment, the bare knuckles and the familiar bone and sinew.

“Where’s your ring?” Sehun asks, voice rough.

“Whad?” Jongin’s brow furrows in sleepy confusion. “If you wanna sleep here-”

“No your ring-,” Sehun frowns suddenly, snatching back his own left hand. “Where’s my ring?—you don’t think anyone’s stolen it do you? It has your name on the inside, why would anyone else want i-”

Jongin face falls slack--”y-you remember?”

His eyes glitter with hope, and Sehun can only manage a tentative nod before he’s holding a lapful of Jongin.

Jongin threatens him even as his hands run reverently over his cheeks and his collarbones. “If you’re joking--if this is some kind of elaborate ploy-”

Sehun cuts him off with a kiss, firm and full of promise. He sinks into the familiarity of it, the softness of Jongin’s mouth, the warmth that clings to him and his duvet. He smells like fabric softener, and sweat, and the smokey scent of a freshly-cast charm. It’s all so achingly familiar; Sehun knows this man in his bones.

“Nini.” Sehun breaks into the widest smile he’s ever felt shape his lips, his eyes roving over the lines and curves that make Jongin. It feels new, it feels old, it feels intimately familiar. He knows the story behind most scars, he’s mapped the appearance of every new wrinkle on that face.

A single tear rolls down Jongin’s cheek, misplaced against the breathtaking grin that claims all of Sehun's attention.

“I missed you--I missed you so much. I was so scared.” Jongin exhales, gasping through the relief.

Sehun shakes his head, thumbing at the tear. “No one could forget you.”

And he knows it’s true as uncountable memories slot together in his mind, like books slipping back into their places on an infinite shelf. Jongin waking in the sunlight, Jongin brewing tea, Jongin apparating to their apartment on a late evening, Jongin brushing the snow from Sehun's shoulders, Jongin tending to the Bonsai Minseok gave them for Christmas, Jongin stubbing his toe on the couch they bought together, Jongin sleeping with Vivi on his chest, Jongin holding a newly born Rahee in the waiting room of a muggle hospital.

And then some more:

Jongin on their wedding day, eyes bright and hair soft, handsome in his crisp black suit. Jongin slipping a simple gold band onto his finger. Jongin naked and wanting. Jongin waiting up so they could eat together. Jongin healing his wounds after another mission gone awry, lips pressed together in anger, but hands so careful and tender in their work. Jongin’s head pillowed on his chest. Jongin reading in the lamplight of their bedroom.

Jongin writing him pages upon pages of notes on the omitus, pressing the sheaf of parchment into his palms as he kisses him goodbye at the door. Be careful, he says, don’t you dare forget me.

Sehun is dragged back to the present by Jongin grabbing his shoulders as he settles properly on to Sehun’s lap. His hands withdraw, long legs folding underneath him as he slips his fingers inside his collar. Sehun watches as he pulls out a long silver chain which looks finely-made, expensive.

But Sehun couldn’t care less if it was silver or twine, because from the chain hang two gleaming gold wedding rings.

“Junmyeon said to keep them safe in a box or somewhere where you wouldn’t stumble across them,” Jongin begins, unclasping the chain. “But I couldn’t do it--it felt like the only thing I had left.”

He pulls Sehun’s hand towards him, and slides the ring on gently. His smile is wry, “I hadn’t taken it off since you put it on me, sometimes I used to wake up panicked, thinking I’d lost the ring somehow. The chain was a gift from Chanyeol, he probably took pity on me.”

Sehun drags Jongin closer by the waist, he takes the other ring from Jongin. The metal is still warm from where it was pressed against Jongin’s chest, and Sehun only fumbles once before he returns it to its home on Jongin’s ring-finger.

“I’m sorry,” Sehun whispers, thumbs bumping over Jongin’s ribs.

Jongin shakes his head, “don’t be stupid, it wasn’t your fault.” His gaze roams Sehun’s face for a moment.

Sehun laughs suddenly recalling their first meeting, “you slipped up a couple of times didn’t you, Jongin-ssi.”

Jongin’s face scrunches up and he pinches Sehun’s side. “You try pretending to be a stranger to the man you've been married to for six years, then we’ll talk.”

“I hope, from the bottom of my heart, that I never have to,” Sehun replies earnestly.

Jongin tilts him back, cheek to Sehun’s shoulder, so that Sehun falls onto the duvet and Jongin lays over him. The quiet descends once more, the two of them sinking into the comfort of being together again. The sunlight creeps forward along the floorboards, but there is no other indication of time passing at all. Jongin's hold is resolutely firm, and Sehun inhales deeply just to feel the way Jongin's weight pushes against his ribs.

“Nini?” Sehun asks after the quiet has persisted for moments.

“Hmm?” Jongin intones against his throat, nose tucked under Sehun’s earlobe.

“That morning--what did you see in the mirror?”

There’s a contemplative silence, and then Jongin wraps his ankles around Sehun’s hips and rolls them over so the auror is above him.

“I saw you and me, and basically what everyday of our lives looked like before you forgot.” He says, hands stroking back Sehun’s hair.

Sehun exhales, nose brushing against Jongin’s nose, “I knew it!” He exclaims against the softness of Jongin’s cheek, teeth pushing against the apple of it vengefully before he withdraws with a kiss. “I kept seeing it too--it drove me insane. I thought the magic had decayed. I thought it was out to get me.”

Jongin smiles, warm as the sunshine that finally reaches Sehun’s back. “Your deepest, most desperate desire huh?”

His arms wrap around Sehun’s shoulders, and Sehun laughs at the smugness on Jongin’s face.

“I think I was falling in love with you all over again anyway.”

Jongin pinks, and pulls him down into another kiss. This one is more luscious than the last, his hips shifting slightly against Sehun’s as his tongue prods at his mouth. Sehun moves without thinking, muscle memory shifting his palm to Jongin’s thigh and his thumb over Jongin’s hip.

When he pulls away Jongin is breathless, all his perfect teeth visible in the lovely grin that paints his face.

“It makes you think, doesn’t it?” Sehun whispers into the sliver of space between them.“There is nothing else I could possibly want when I have you.”