Archive of Our Own

Minho sat in his usual spot in the Ravenclaw common room, staring blankly at the open Potions textbook in front of him. The words on the page seemed to blur together as his mind wandered far, far away. He wasn’t thinking about Draughts of Living Death or Sleeping Potions. No, his thoughts were fixated on something—or rather, someone—else entirely.

From where he sat, Minho had a clear view of the bustling courtyard just outside the tall, arched windows of the common room. And there, sitting on one of the stone benches under the large oak tree, was Han Jisung. Of course, he was surrounded by his usual group of friends, laughing at something one of them had said. His laughter carried through the courtyard, light and infectious, and Minho could hear it even through the thick glass.

Minho’s heart skipped a beat, as it always did when he caught sight of Jisung. That smile, that laugh—it was enough to send his thoughts spiraling into a frenzy. He quickly ducked his head, pretending to read the textbook in front of him, though he knew full well he wasn’t absorbing any of the information.

It was ridiculous, really. Minho knew that. He had no business harboring a crush this huge on someone like Jisung. They were in the same year, sure, but that was about where the similarities ended. Minho was quiet, reserved, and spent most of his time studying or reading. He was known around the school for being an academic overachiever, particularly in Potions, which suited his meticulous nature perfectly.

Jisung, on the other hand, was everything Minho wasn’t. He was popular, outgoing, and effortlessly charming. He had an energy about him that made everyone gravitate toward him—whether it was during Quidditch matches, in the Great Hall, or even just walking through the corridors. People liked Jisung. They wanted to be around him, wanted to make him laugh, wanted to bask in that easy, carefree attitude that seemed to follow him everywhere.

And Minho? Well, Minho was pretty sure Jisung barely even knew he existed.

Sure, they shared a few classes together, but they had never spoken beyond the occasional polite nod or awkward “excuse me” in passing. Jisung had no reason to notice someone like Minho—someone who blended into the background, preferring the quiet corners of the library or the back row of the Potions classroom.

But even though Minho knew that, it didn’t stop him from looking.

It had started a few years ago—Minho couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, but he remembered the feeling. It was during a Quidditch match in their third year. Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor. Minho didn’t particularly care for the game—he’d only gone because his friends had dragged him along, insisting he needed to get out more. He had been sitting in the stands, bored and half-heartedly watching the match, when he heard a burst of laughter a few rows in front of him.

That was the first time he had really noticed Jisung.

He wasn’t even playing in the match; he was just there to support Gryffindor, standing on the benches with a group of friends, cheering his house team on like his life depended on it. His voice was loud, excited, his smile wide and genuine. Every time Gryffindor scored, Jisung would practically bounce out of his seat, pumping his fist in the air with enthusiasm.

There had been something about that moment—seeing Jisung so happy, so full of life—that had stuck with Minho. He found himself watching Jisung more and more after that, catching glimpses of him in the corridors between classes, noticing the way he interacted with everyone around him. It wasn’t just that Jisung was good-looking (though he undeniably was), but there was something deeper about the way he carried himself, the way he made people feel at ease with just a smile or a casual joke.

And over time, what had started as a passing admiration had bloomed into something far more complicated.

Minho liked Jisung. He really liked him. To the point where his stomach twisted into knots every time Jisung so much as walked past him. It wasn’t the kind of crush that Minho could just brush off, either. It had grown steadily over the years, gnawing at him every time he saw Jisung smile at someone else, laugh at someone else’s joke.

Of course, it didn’t help that Jisung was incredibly attractive. His dark hair was always perfectly tousled, falling into his eyes in a way that made him look effortlessly cool, and his eyes—Merlin, his eyes were dangerous. Bright and full of mischief, they seemed to light up every time he laughed. His lips, always curved into that signature grin, made Minho’s heart do ridiculous little flips whenever he caught sight of them.

And the worst part? Minho was sure that Jisung had no idea the effect he had on him.

Jisung was just himself—unapologetically loud, friendly, and a bit of a tease. He probably had no idea that every casual glance, every fleeting smile in Minho’s direction, made Minho’s heart race like he was about to have a panic attack.

Minho sighed heavily, tearing his gaze away from the courtyard. He needed to stop doing this. He needed to stop torturing himself with these ridiculous fantasies. Jisung wasn’t going to notice him, wasn’t going to suddenly realize that they were meant to be together. They weren’t even friends, for Merlin’s sake.

Minho had tried—really tried—to keep his feelings in check, to shove them down and ignore them. But every time he saw Jisung, it felt like the crush only got worse. And now, sitting here in the common room, watching Jisung from a distance like some lovesick fool, Minho realized just how deep he had fallen.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“What’s wrong with me?” he muttered to himself, his voice muffled. He couldn’t keep going like this—day after day, pretending that Jisung didn’t make him feel like his heart was going to explode. He needed to get over it, to stop fantasizing about impossible scenarios where Jisung would magically turn around and notice him.

Because that wasn’t going to happen.

Minho was too…ordinary. Too quiet, too much of a bookworm. Jisung, on the other hand, was popular and outgoing—he could have anyone he wanted. Why on earth would he ever look at Minho in that way?

The answer was simple: he wouldn’t.

Minho sighed again, closing his textbook with a loud thud. The noise startled a few of the other Ravenclaws nearby, but Minho didn’t care. He needed to clear his head, to stop obsessing over something that was never going to happen.

It was ridiculous. Minho was a sixth-year Ravenclaw—he was supposed to be calm, collected, and logical. But how could anyone stay composed around Jisung? He had this infectious energy, a smile that could light up the entire Great Hall, and a laugh that was downright dangerous to Minho’s nerves. Not that Minho had ever really interacted with him beyond the occasional shared class or passing in the corridors, but still. His stomach did a little flip every time their eyes met, even if Jisung was just glancing over to make a joke with his friends.

So Minho did what any rational person would do—he avoided Jisung as much as possible. It wasn’t hard; their schedules were different, and Jisung was surrounded by his usual entourage of friends, all equally loud and energetic. Minho told himself it was for the best. It wasn’t like Jisung even knew who he was anyway, so there was no point in making things awkward by trying to talk to him. Besides, what would Minho even say?

That was, until Professor Slughorn decided to ruin Minho’s carefully laid plans by assigning him as Jisung’s tutor for Potions.

One afternoon after classes, Minho had been gathering his things after Potions class, as usual, when Professor Slughorn cleared his throat, signaling for him to stay behind. Minho froze, wondering if he’d made some mistake during class.

“Mr. Lee,” Professor Slughorn’s voice cut through the silence of the nearly empty classroom. Minho stood at attention, feeling a slight sense of dread as the professor’s cold gaze fell on him. “It has come to my attention that one of your classmates is in dire need of assistance in Potions.”

Minho furrowed his brows, waiting for Slughorn to continue.

“I’ve appointed you to tutor him,” Slughorn said with finality, not even waiting for Minho’s response before going back to grading papers.

“Um, sir?” Minho stammered, confused. “Who am I tutoring?”

Without looking up, Slughorn said, “Han Jisung.”

Minho’s heart stopped.

For a moment, Minho wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. Han Jisung? He had to tutor Han Jisung?

“Wait, sir, I don’t think—” Minho began, but Slughorn cut him off with a sharp glare.

“You’re one of the top students in this class, Mr. Lee,” Slughorn said coldly. “Mr. Han, however, is on the verge of failing. You will assist him in mastering the subject, or he will not pass his exams. Understood?”

Minho swallowed hard. There was no way he could say no. Slughorn didn’t give him a choice. And honestly, as much as he wanted to avoid being alone with Jisung for the sake of his sanity, Minho knew he couldn’t let him fail.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered, his heart sinking.

As soon as Slughorn dismissed him, Minho gathered his things and practically fled the classroom, his mind racing. He had to tutor Jisung. Spend actual time with him. One-on-one. Talking. Helping him with Potions. How on earth was he supposed to survive that?

The whole situation felt like a cruel twist of fate. Minho had barely managed to keep his crush hidden while just being in the same class as Jisung, and now he was going to have to spend hours alone with him? The universe must have had it out for him.

He didn’t even realize how tense he was until he practically crashed into Felix outside the library. Felix blinked at him, startled.

“Whoa, Minho, what’s got you in such a rush?” Felix asked, grabbing Minho’s shoulders to steady him.

Minho sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle in. “I… I have to tutor someone.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “And that’s bad because…?”

Minho hesitated for a moment before blurting out, “It’s Jisung.”

For a second, Felix stared at him, and then he burst into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”

Minho scowled. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

Felix wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Oh man, this is too good. You’ve had a crush on him for ages, and now you’re going to be stuck in a room with him? This is like, prime rom-com material.”

Minho groaned, burying his face in his hands. “It’s going to be a disaster. I can’t even look at him without feeling like I’m going to implode.”

“Relax,” Felix said, slinging an arm around Minho’s shoulders. “Just be yourself. You’re smart, you’re a great tutor, and who knows? Maybe spending time together will make him notice you in more ways than one.”

“Not helping, Felix,” Minho muttered, though a part of him wished Felix’s words were true.

Minho had always been good at Potions—no surprise for a Ravenclaw—but Jisung? Well, he wasn’t. Not that Jisung was terrible at school, but Potions just wasn’t his thing. And unfortunately for him, Professor Slughorn had noticed his poor grades and decided he needed a little help.

The first session was scheduled for the following afternoon in an empty classroom. Minho arrived early, as usual, setting up his potions materials neatly in front of him. His hands were shaking slightly, but he tried to push the nerves away. He was here to help Jisung, nothing more. It was just a tutoring session. He could handle it.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

The next day couldn’t have come faster, though Minho had spent the entire morning feeling like his stomach was in knots. He kept replaying the previous day’s conversation over and over in his head, obsessing over every little detail. 

He had tried to tell himself to calm down, that this was just a tutoring session, nothing more. But his brain refused to listen. It was Jisung, after all—the same Jisung who had been occupying his thoughts for so long. The idea of being so close to him, of actually spending time alone with him, was both thrilling and terrifying.

By the time classes ended, Minho was a nervous wreck. His palms were sweaty as he gathered his Potions notes and textbooks, trying to steady his breathing. It’s fine, he told himself. You’re just tutoring him. Nothing more.

But even as he tried to reassure himself, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if this could be the start of something more. He quickly shook his head, banishing the thought before it could take root. He wasn’t going to set himself up for disappointment. Jisung probably didn’t even see him that way.

Still, the idea of being close to Jisung—of maybe, just maybe, getting to know him better—was enough to make Minho’s heart race with anticipation.

When he arrived at the library, he found Jisung already waiting for him at one of the tables near the back, grinning as soon as Minho walked in.

“Hey! You actually came,” Jisung said, waving him over. “For a second, I thought you’d bail on me.”

Minho chuckled awkwardly as he sat down, trying to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Jisung’s smile. “No, I’m here. I said I’d help, didn’t I?”

Jisung grinned wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Good, because I have no idea what I’m doing in Potions. You’re going to have to save me.”

Minho couldn’t help but smile back, despite the nerves bubbling inside him. “I’ll do my best.”

He set his textbooks on the table, already feeling the familiar tingle of nerves dancing along his spine as Jisung stared at him with an open, expectant expression. It was like he had Minho’s full attention, and Minho wasn’t sure if that was exhilarating or terrifying. Probably both.

“So,” Minho began, flipping through his Potions textbook to find the section they needed. He could feel Jisung’s eyes on him—curious, maybe a little amused—and it was making his hands shake. He took a deep breath and tried to focus. “Where exactly do you need help?”

Jisung groaned, dropping his head dramatically onto the table. “Where don’t I need help? Honestly, I think I’ve messed up almost every potion since the start of the year.”

Minho’s lips quirked into a smile despite himself. Jisung had this way of making everything seem a little less serious, even when he was clearly stressed about it. That was one of the things that made him so… well, charming. Not that Minho could say that out loud. He flipped to a page on basic potion formulas, trying to keep his mind from wandering too far.

“Okay, let’s start with the basics,” Minho said, tapping the page lightly. “Do you know the difference between an infusion and a decoction?”

Jisung blinked, lifting his head from the table. “Uh… I know one of them involves boiling something?”

Minho raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “Close. Infusion is when you steep ingredients in water without boiling them. Decoction is when you actually boil the ingredients to extract properties.”

Jisung blinked again, his lips pursing slightly. “That makes sense, I guess. But I swear I’ve tried both and still managed to mess up everything.”

“Maybe you’re boiling it for too long,” Minho suggested. “Or you’re not paying attention to the timing—Potions is all about precision.”

Jisung groaned again, dramatically running a hand through his messy hair. “That’s probably it. I’m the worst when it comes to keeping track of time.”

Minho couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. “I can see how that might be a problem.”

Jisung’s eyes lit up at the sound of Minho’s laughter, and he grinned. “Oh? Did I just make you laugh, Lee Minho?”

Minho immediately regretted letting his guard down, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “I wasn’t laughing at you.”

“Hey, no need to explain,” Jisung said, leaning back in his chair with an exaggeratedly casual shrug. “I didn’t know you could laugh, that’s all. I thought you were one of those silent, mysterious types.”

Minho’s cheeks grew even hotter, and he looked down at his notes in an attempt to hide his flustered expression. Why did Jisung have to be like this? Why did he have to tease him like that when Minho was already doing everything in his power to keep from falling apart?

“I’m not that mysterious,” Minho mumbled, feeling ridiculous for even saying it.

Jisung chuckled softly, and Minho’s heart skipped a beat. “You kind of are. But I guess that just makes this tutoring thing more fun.”

Fun? Spending time with Minho was fun for Jisung? Minho’s stomach flipped, and for a brief second, he allowed himself to feel the warmth spreading through his chest. But then reality hit, and he reminded himself that Jisung probably just meant that as a passing comment. Jisung wasn’t actually interested in him—at least, not in the way Minho wanted him to be.

Still, it didn’t stop Minho’s heart from fluttering.

“Let’s, um, keep going,” Minho said quickly, eager to change the subject before Jisung could notice how flustered he was. He flipped to the next page, pointing at the instructions for a basic healing potion. “Have you tried making this one yet?”

Jisung glanced down at the page, scrunching up his nose. “Ugh, don’t even remind me. I tried it last week and ended up with something that smelled like burning rubber. Pretty sure I nearly gave Seungmin a heart attack when I tested it on him.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “You… tested it on your friend?”

Jisung laughed, shaking his head. “Relax, I only gave him a tiny sip. He was fine. Mostly.”

Minho pressed his lips together, trying not to smile. It was ridiculous—how could Jisung be so careless and yet so endearing at the same time? He couldn’t help but imagine Jisung in the Potions classroom, waving a ladle around with his usual chaotic energy while poor Seungmin watched in horror from the sidelines.

“Well, maybe next time you should ask for help before you test anything on your friends,” Minho suggested, glancing up at Jisung with a small, teasing smile. He didn’t often joke around, but something about Jisung’s presence made it easier. Less guarded.

Jisung grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “Oh? Is that your way of saying you’ll keep me from killing anyone in Potions class?”

Minho shrugged, though his heart was pounding. “I guess so. It’s better than Slughorn expelling you.”

Jisung laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down Minho’s spine. He was still leaning back in his chair, completely relaxed and at ease, while Minho felt like his nerves were about to short-circuit.

The session continued with a mix of light-hearted banter and actual tutoring, though Minho found it hard to stay focused whenever Jisung leaned too close or smiled at him in that disarming way. The more they talked, the more Minho realized just how easy it was to be around him, even if his heart still felt like it was on the verge of exploding.

By the time they reached the end of the session, Jisung had scribbled several notes in his book, looking a little more confident—though still very much himself.

“Alright, I think I’ve got a better idea of what I’ve been doing wrong,” Jisung said, shutting his book with a satisfied nod. “You’re a good teacher, Minho. Maybe you should do this professionally.”

Minho flushed, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment. “I’m not really planning on becoming a teacher.”

“No? Well, whatever you end up doing, you’ll be great at it,” Jisung said, his voice sincere in a way that caught Minho off guard.

Minho glanced up at him, and for a moment, their eyes met. The intensity in Jisung’s gaze was enough to make Minho’s breath catch. He wasn’t sure if it was real, or if his mind was just playing tricks on him, but for a split second, it almost felt like Jisung was seeing him. Not just the top Potions student, or the quiet guy from Ravenclaw—but him.

The moment passed as quickly as it came, and Jisung was back to his usual self, grinning as he stood up from the table.

“Well, thanks again for the help,” Jisung said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

Minho nodded, still trying to recover from the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his chest. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

Jisung shot him one last smile before turning and heading for the door, leaving Minho sitting there in stunned silence.

As soon as Jisung was out of sight, Minho let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. That had been… intense. He hadn’t expected the tutoring session to feel so personal, so full of little moments that made his heart race. And yet, here he was—still reeling from the fact that Jisung had actually talked to him, teased him, and even complimented him.

How am I going to survive this? Minho thought to himself, pressing a hand to his chest as if that would calm the wild beating of his heart. He was in way over his head.

The days that followed were something Minho could only describe as torture—a sweet, infuriating, nerve-wracking kind of torture. Their tutoring sessions had become a regular thing, usually taking place in the library after classes, and each one felt like a slow, meticulous attempt to unravel Minho’s sanity.

It wasn’t that Jisung was doing anything particularly terrible. In fact, he was incredibly nice, attentive even, during their lessons. But it was the teasing—the constant teasing—that was slowly but surely driving Minho up the wall.

“Minho,” Jisung drawled one afternoon, lazily resting his chin in his hand as he leaned closer across the table. “You’re so serious all the time. Don’t you ever just… relax?”

Minho blinked, his face heating up at the sudden proximity. Jisung had this way of invading his personal space that left Minho scrambling for coherent thoughts, and the worst part was that Jisung didn’t seem to notice at all. Or maybe he did, and he was doing it on purpose. Minho honestly couldn’t tell anymore.

“I-I’m relaxed,” Minho stammered, mentally kicking himself for sounding so unconvincing.

Jisung raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Oh yeah? You don’t look relaxed.”

Minho’s breath hitched as Jisung’s gaze lingered on him, playful and yet disarmingly intense. He could feel the familiar heat rising in his chest, the kind that made it impossible to think straight. What was he supposed to say to that? How could he possibly explain that the reason he wasn’t relaxed was sitting right in front of him, with that unfairly charming smile and those eyes that made his heart stutter?

“I’m fine,” Minho managed to mutter, glancing down at the open Potions textbook in front of him. He pointed to an ingredient list, desperate to steer the conversation back on track. “We should go over this again. The potion for—”

“Yeah, yeah, the Sleeping Draught,” Jisung interrupted with a dismissive wave, clearly not interested in talking about Potions anymore. “But seriously, Minho, do you ever have fun? Or is everything just Potions and homework for you?”

Minho bristled, his embarrassment quickly turning into frustration. Why did Jisung care so much about how he spent his time? Why was he so determined to make Minho feel flustered and off-balance? It was maddening.

“I have fun,” Minho said defensively, though even he wasn’t entirely convinced. “I just… don’t show it the way you do.”

Jisung’s grin widened, and Minho knew he’d walked right into another trap. “Oh? So you’re saying you’re secretly fun? Like, you’ve got this wild, carefree side that you’re hiding from the rest of us?”

Minho groaned, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. “That’s not what I—”

“Come on, I’m curious now,” Jisung teased, leaning even closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What does fun Minho do? Dance around in his dorm? Sneak out to the Forbidden Forest?”

Minho shot him a withering look, though his rapidly beating heart probably ruined the effect. “I don’t sneak out anywhere.”

Jisung pouted dramatically, sitting back in his chair with a mock sigh of disappointment. “Boring. I was hoping you’d have some secret life outside of being the top student in Potions.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Minho muttered, though there was a small part of him—deep down—that wanted to prove Jisung wrong. He wasn’t boring. He just… had different priorities.

“Hey, I’m not actually disappointed,” Jisung said, his tone softening as he gave Minho a sideways glance. “I think it’s kinda cool that you’re so dedicated to what you’re good at.”

Minho blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Jisung’s demeanor. There was no teasing grin, no playful smirk—just a genuine look of admiration that made Minho’s chest tighten in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Y-you do?” Minho asked, cursing himself for how shaky his voice sounded.

Jisung nodded, his expression sincere. “Yeah, I mean… you’re really smart, and you work hard. I wish I had half of your focus.” He paused, glancing down at the open textbook in front of them. “Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t be failing Potions.”

Minho swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He wasn’t sure what to say—he wasn’t used to this version of Jisung, the one who wasn’t constantly teasing him or making him feel like his heart was about to explode. It was strange… but nice.

“You’re not… failing,” Minho said after a moment, his voice quiet but earnest. “You’re just… struggling a bit. But you’ll get it. You’re not as bad as you think.”

Jisung looked up at him, and for a split second, there was something unreadable in his gaze. It wasn’t his usual playful expression—it was something deeper, something that made Minho’s heart skip a beat.

“Thanks, Minho,” Jisung said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “That means a lot.”

Minho felt his face heat up again, and he quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the textbook. His heart was racing, and he couldn’t understand why a simple thank-you from Jisung had affected him so much. Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, or the way his eyes had softened when he said it. Whatever it was, it had thrown Minho completely off balance.

“Let’s… get back to work,” Minho mumbled, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer territory. He flipped to the next page in the book, trying to ignore the way Jisung was still looking at him. “We need to go over the ingredients for the Draught of Living Death.”

Jisung chuckled softly, but thankfully, he didn’t push the topic any further. “Alright, alright. Lead the way, Professor Minho.”

Minho rolled his eyes at the nickname but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Despite everything—despite the teasing, the relentless flirting, and the way Jisung seemed to have an uncanny ability to make him feel flustered and out of control—he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed spending time with him.

It was torture, sure. But it was also the best part of his day.

Over the next few days, their dynamic stayed much the same. Jisung continued to show up for their tutoring sessions, always with a grin on his face and a new way to make Minho’s heart race. He’d perfected the art of leaning just a little too close, of brushing his hand against Minho’s in ways that felt far too casual to be intentional but made Minho’s pulse quicken all the same.

It didn’t help that Jisung’s skills in Potions were improving, albeit slowly. Minho wasn’t sure if it was because he was actually learning or if it was because he’d found a way to charm his way through their sessions, but either way, it meant they were spending more and more time together. And with every session, Minho found it harder to keep his composure.

One particularly chaotic afternoon, Jisung had spilled half a vial of powdered asphodel across the table, sending both of them into a coughing fit as they scrambled to clean it up.

“I swear you do this on purpose,” Minho muttered as he wiped up the mess with a quick Scourgify.

Jisung laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that made Minho’s heart do flips. “What, spill things? I promise, Minho, I’m not that clumsy.”

Minho rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at his lips. “Right. Just like you didn’t knock over the cauldron last week.”

“That was definitely an accident,” Jisung said with mock seriousness, though the grin on his face betrayed him.

Minho shook his head, but the warmth in his chest was undeniable. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain any semblance of distance with Jisung around, especially when he kept doing things like this—making Minho laugh, making him feel like maybe, just maybe, there was something more beneath all the teasing.

One afternoon, about two weeks after their tutoring sessions had started, Minho found himself sitting in the library, nervously tapping his fingers against the surface of the table. Jisung was running late, which wasn’t particularly unusual—he had a habit of getting distracted between classes, either by his friends or by some ridiculous excuse like losing track of time because he was feeding the school owls.

But today, Minho was more on edge than usual. He wasn’t sure why—perhaps it was because their sessions had become something more than just tutoring. Each meeting with Jisung had started to feel like an intricate dance, with Minho trying to keep his emotions in check while Jisung seemed to revel in making him flustered.

Minho wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it. Every day, Jisung’s presence seemed to chip away at his carefully constructed walls, and every teasing smile or playful nudge brought him closer to the edge.

As if on cue, Jisung finally strolled into the library, looking as effortlessly charming as ever. His tie was loosened, his robe draped lazily over one shoulder, and his hair was tousled in that perfectly messy way that made it look like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jisung said with a sheepish grin, dropping his bag onto the table with a thud. “Had a minor detour—got caught up with Hyunjin and Felix.”

Minho barely managed to suppress an exasperated sigh. “You’re always late,” he muttered, though his tone lacked any real bite. He had long since resigned himself to the fact that Jisung was never going to be punctual.

Jisung smirked as he sat down across from Minho, leaning back in his chair with an easy confidence that made Minho’s stomach flip. “Aw, you missed me that much, huh?”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat, and he quickly turned his attention to the Potions textbook in front of him, desperately trying to focus on anything but the way Jisung’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’m just trying to help you pass Potions,” he muttered, flipping through the pages a little too quickly.

“Right, of course,” Jisung said, leaning forward on the table and resting his chin in his hands. “Because I’m hopeless, right? Your poor, failing student.”

Minho felt his face heat up. Why did Jisung always have to phrase things like that? It wasn’t fair. “You’re not hopeless,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact as he pointed to a passage in the book. “Now, can we please go over the Draught of Peace? You still haven’t gotten the hang of it.”

Jisung huffed dramatically but pulled the book toward him nonetheless, glancing over the page. “Fine, fine. But you’re lucky you’re cute when you’re serious.”

Minho froze, his eyes widening as he processed Jisung’s words. Cute? Did he just call me cute?

Jisung didn’t seem to notice Minho’s internal panic as he absentmindedly twirled a quill between his fingers, still looking down at the textbook. “So, the Draught of Peace… what exactly am I messing up again?”

Minho blinked, his mind racing as he tried to focus on the conversation. It was impossible to think clearly with Jisung sitting there, casually tossing out compliments like they were no big deal. Did he mean it? Was he just teasing again?

“You… you keep adding too much powdered moonstone,” Minho finally said, though his voice came out quieter than he intended. “It’s supposed to be a small pinch, not a full spoonful.”

Jisung nodded thoughtfully, but Minho could see the mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced up at him. “Got it. Small pinch. But seriously, Minho… you really are cute when you’re all focused like that.”

Minho’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he quickly ducked his head, pretending to be very interested in the parchment in front of him. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “Stop saying that,” he muttered, though his voice lacked any real conviction.

“Why?” Jisung asked, leaning forward with a playful grin. “It’s true.”

Minho swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the table. He didn’t know how to respond to that—how could he, when Jisung was looking at him like that, with that stupidly charming smile and those eyes that seemed to see right through him?

He wanted to say something—anything—to deflect the attention, but the words stuck in his throat. All he could do was sit there, feeling like his heart was about to burst out of his chest, while Jisung continued to smile at him like he was having the time of his life.

And then, as if the universe had decided to throw him a lifeline, Jisung suddenly let out a dramatic sigh and flopped back in his chair. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop teasing you. For now.” He shot Minho a wink that did nothing to calm his racing heart.

Minho breathed a quiet sigh of relief, though his hands were still trembling slightly as he picked up his quill. He needed to regain some semblance of control, but it was hard when Jisung was constantly throwing him off balance like this.

“Let’s just focus on the potion,” Minho mumbled, hoping to steer the conversation back to something—anything—that didn’t involve Jisung calling him cute.

For a while, they did manage to focus. Jisung, despite his earlier antics, did seem genuinely interested in learning, and Minho found himself relaxing a bit as they went over the various ingredients and their effects. It was nice, in a way—teaching Jisung, helping him understand things that he hadn’t quite grasped before. And when Jisung wasn’t teasing him relentlessly, he was actually a pretty good student.

But of course, that peace didn’t last long.

Halfway through their session, Jisung suddenly stretched his arms above his head with a groan, accidentally knocking over the small inkwell that had been sitting precariously close to the edge of the table.

“Oops,” Jisung muttered, his eyes widening in horror as the ink spread across the table, dripping onto the parchment and pooling dangerously close to Minho’s Potions notes.

Without thinking, Minho scrambled to grab his wand, quickly muttering a spell to clean up the mess. In his haste, however, his hand brushed against Jisung’s, sending an unexpected jolt of electricity through him.

Both of them froze.

For a moment, neither of them moved, their hands still touching as they stared at each other in stunned silence. The air around them seemed to thicken, and Minho’s heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Jisung could hear it.

Minho felt like his entire body was on fire, his brain short-circuiting as he tried to process what had just happened. He should pull away. He should say something—anything—to break the tension, but all he could do was stare at Jisung, his breath caught in his throat.

Jisung was the first to move, his fingers slowly curling around Minho’s, and Minho swore he could hear his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. The playful smirk that usually adorned Jisung’s face was gone, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable.

“Minho…” Jisung’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes flickering between Minho’s face and their joined hands. “Do you…?”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what was happening. Was this real? Was Jisung… was he actually feeling the same way?

But before Minho could respond—before he could even think of what to say—Jisung suddenly pulled his hand away, his face turning an uncharacteristic shade of red.

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbled, looking flustered for the first time since Minho had known him. “I didn’t mean to… I mean…”

Minho blinked, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words refused to come out.

For a long moment, they just sat there, the awkward silence stretching between them. The playful banter was gone, replaced by a tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

Minho could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty. He had no idea what to do—should he say something? Should he pretend like nothing had happened? Should he—

“Maybe we should call it a day,” Jisung suddenly blurted out, standing up so quickly that he nearly knocked over his chair.

Minho stared up at him, his heart sinking as he saw the look of embarrassment on Jisung’s face. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He hadn’t meant to make things awkward.

“Yeah,” Minho said quietly, his voice barely audible. “Maybe we should.”

The days after that awkward library encounter passed in a blur for Minho. His thoughts were consumed by Jisung—by the way his hand had felt in his, by the look of uncertainty and confusion that had crossed Jisung’s usually playful face. Minho had replayed the moment over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of it all. Was it just a fluke? Or had Jisung felt something, too?

Jisung hadn’t brought it up in their next tutoring session, and Minho had been too afraid to mention it either. They had fallen back into their usual rhythm—Jisung teasing, Minho trying to keep his emotions in check—but there was an unspoken tension between them now, a lingering awareness that neither of them could quite ignore.

It was driving Minho crazy.

Late one evening, after their usual tutoring session, Minho found himself wandering the castle grounds. The air was crisp, and the moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard. He often came here when he needed to clear his head, the quiet solitude of the night offering him a brief reprieve from the chaos of his thoughts.

But tonight, even the calm of the night couldn’t soothe the restless churning in his chest.

He had to know.

He had to know what Jisung was thinking—what he was feeling. The uncertainty was eating away at him, and no matter how hard he tried to push it down, it always bubbled back to the surface.

As he made his way toward the lake, lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t notice the figure sitting by the water’s edge.

Jisung.

Minho’s heart leapt into his throat. Of all the places for Jisung to be, why here? Why now?

For a brief moment, Minho considered turning around and walking away. He could pretend he hadn’t seen Jisung, pretend that everything was fine, that nothing had changed between them. But something stopped him—an inexplicable pull, a desire to finally confront the feelings he had been burying for so long.

Before he knew it, his feet were carrying him toward Jisung.

Jisung looked up as Minho approached, his eyes widening in surprise. “Minho?” he called out, his voice laced with confusion. “What are you doing out here?”

Minho shrugged, trying to play it cool even as his heart pounded in his chest. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled. “You?”

Jisung let out a soft laugh, though it lacked its usual carefree quality. “Same, I guess. Just needed to clear my head.”

Minho hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside him, leaving a few inches of space between them. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words, both of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore, and the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. Minho could feel the tension growing between them, the weight of everything they weren’t saying pressing down on him like a physical force.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jisung,” Minho said quietly, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. “About what happened in the library…”

Jisung tensed beside him, and Minho saw the way his fingers curled into the grass, gripping it tightly as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. “Yeah?” Jisung replied, his voice sounding unusually guarded.

Minho swallowed hard, trying to steady his nerves. This was it. This was his chance to finally clear the air, to say what had been weighing on his heart for weeks. “I… I just need to know,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “Was that… Did that mean anything to you? Or was it just…?”

Jisung was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the water. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft—softer than Minho had ever heard it before. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I mean, I didn’t plan it or anything. It just… happened.”

Minho’s heart sank at Jisung’s uncertainty. He had been hoping for something more—something clearer. But he knew he couldn’t blame Jisung for being confused. After all, Minho barely understood his own feelings most of the time.

“I get it,” Minho said quietly, forcing a small smile. “It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

But Jisung shook his head, turning to face Minho with a look of determination in his eyes. “No, I do want to talk about it,” he said firmly. “I just… I’m not good at this stuff, Minho. I’m not good at feelings.”

Minho let out a small laugh, though it was tinged with sadness. “Join the club.”

For a moment, Jisung was quiet again, his gaze flickering between Minho’s face and the ground beneath them. And then, with a deep breath, he finally spoke. “Look, I don’t know what I’m feeling right now,” Jisung admitted, his voice raw and vulnerable in a way that Minho had never heard before. “But I do know that when I’m with you, it’s… different. I can’t explain it. It’s like… I don’t know.”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat, hope swelling in his chest. “Different how?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Jisung hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip as he searched for the right words. “It’s just… I’ve never felt this way before. Not with anyone,” he said quietly. “And it’s scary, you know? I don’t know what to do with it.”

Minho could hardly believe what he was hearing. After all this time—after all the teasing and the playful banter—Jisung was finally opening up to him. And it wasn’t just a joke. It wasn’t just another one of his flirty comments meant to get a rise out of Minho.

This was real.

“I feel the same way,” Minho confessed, his voice shaking with the weight of his own vulnerability. “I’ve felt this way for a long time, Jisung. And it scares me, too.”

Jisung’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he looked like he didn’t know what to say. Minho could see the uncertainty flickering across his face, the way his mind seemed to be racing with a thousand different thoughts.

But then, slowly—tentatively—Jisung reached out, his hand brushing against Minho’s. Minho’s breath hitched in his throat as he felt the warmth of Jisung’s skin against his own, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. They just sat there, their hands barely touching, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air between them.

And then, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, Jisung finally spoke.

“I think I like you, Minho.”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat, his breath catching in his throat. He could hardly believe what he was hearing—after all this time, after all the teasing and the playful banter, Jisung was finally admitting what Minho had long suspected.

“I like you, too,” Minho whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The silence between them was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of everything that had been building between them for so long.

And then, slowly—hesitantly—Jisung leaned in.

Minho’s breath hitched as he felt Jisung’s lips brush against his, soft and tentative, as if he was afraid of pushing too far. But Minho didn’t pull away. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his heart pounding in his chest as he kissed Jisung back.

It was a soft kiss—shy and uncertain, but filled with a warmth that made Minho’s heart soar. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have to be. All that mattered was that, in this moment, they were finally on the same page.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement. Jisung let out a soft laugh, his hand still resting on Minho’s.

“Well,” he said, his voice light and teasing again, though there was a new softness in his eyes. “That was unexpected.”

Minho chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Tell me about it.”

Jisung smiled, squeezing Minho’s hand gently. “So… what now?”

Minho looked at him, his heart swelling with affection. For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel nervous or unsure. He knew exactly what he wanted.

“Now,” Minho said quietly, his voice filled with certainty, “we figure it out. Together.”

Jisung’s smile widened, and for the first time in weeks, Minho felt like everything was going to be okay.

The morning after their moonlit confession, Minho found himself wide awake before dawn, staring up at the canopy of his four-poster bed in the Ravenclaw dormitory. His mind was racing, a thousand thoughts spinning in every direction, but one feeling stood above the rest: warmth. The memory of Jisung's touch, his quiet words, and the soft kiss they had shared lingered in his thoughts, making him feel like he was floating.

He couldn't believe it had actually happened.

After months of silently yearning for Jisung, of enduring the teasing and trying to keep his crush under wraps, the boy he had admired from afar had finally admitted his own feelings. It didn’t feel real, but it was—Minho could still feel the warmth of Jisung’s hand in his.

A flutter of nerves suddenly gripped him. What would happen now? How would things change between them? They hadn’t talked much after the kiss, just shared a few more quiet moments before parting ways, both too overwhelmed to process everything in one night. Minho wondered if Jisung would want to talk about it today, or if the whole thing would be awkward now that the initial rush of emotion had passed.

Minho didn’t have long to dwell on those thoughts, though, because as soon as he walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, his eyes were immediately drawn to Jisung. The Gryffindor boy was sitting at his usual spot at the table, chatting animatedly with a couple of his friends, his smile bright and carefree. For a second, Minho’s heart sank. Maybe nothing had changed for Jisung at all—maybe last night had been a momentary slip for him, something he would shrug off now that the light of day had returned.

But then, Jisung’s gaze flickered toward Minho, and their eyes met across the room.

Minho’s breath caught in his throat. The room seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them. For a moment, Jisung didn’t move, but then a small, shy smile spread across his face—one that was so different from his usual teasing smirk. It was soft, sweet, and full of the same warmth Minho had felt last night by the lake.

It was real.

Minho couldn’t help but smile back, his nerves dissipating in an instant. He wasn’t sure how things would go from here, but Jisung’s smile was all the reassurance he needed.

The days that followed their confession were a whirlwind of emotions—both overwhelming and exhilarating. Minho and Jisung slipped into a new rhythm, one that felt so natural yet so unfamiliar, like the pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place. There was no grand proclamation about what they were to each other now, no defining the boundaries or setting labels. Instead, they quietly, seamlessly, let things unfold.

It wasn’t as if they changed overnight. They still met in the library for tutoring, Jisung still showed up late half the time, and Minho still scolded him, rolling his eyes with that familiar look of exasperation. But something was different now—an unspoken ease had taken root between them. Minho felt it in the way Jisung sat closer to him now, the playful brushes of his knee against Minho’s under the table, or the casual way his arm would rest against Minho’s shoulder as they walked down the halls together. It was subtle at first—small gestures that could almost pass as nothing—but for Minho, every touch, every glance, was like electricity buzzing just beneath his skin.

It didn’t take long for that subtlety to fade, though. Jisung, once he had grown comfortable in the wake of their confession, seemed more eager than ever to push the boundaries of their newfound affection. His teasing took on a new edge—gentle, playful, but with an undercurrent of warmth that left Minho’s heart racing. He would nudge Minho in the ribs whenever he said something sarcastic, or he’d lean in just a little too close when Minho tried to explain a difficult potion concept, his breath tickling the shell of Minho’s ear.

“Minho,” Jisung whined one day during their tutoring session, dragging out his name in that exaggerated, sing-song tone that always made Minho’s stomach flip. Jisung had abandoned his parchment in favor of slouching dramatically against Minho’s side, his head leaning on Minho’s shoulder as if he couldn’t bear the weight of another second of studying. “This is boring. Can’t we take a break?”

Minho tried to suppress a smile, even as his heart fluttered at the way Jisung’s hair brushed against his neck. “We’ve only been at it for half an hour,” he pointed out, though his voice lacked any real bite. “And you said you wanted to pass your exam, remember?”

Jisung groaned but didn’t move from his spot, his head now nestled comfortably against Minho’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, but I didn’t know it would be this boring. Come on, let’s do something else.” He lifted his head just slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Or maybe we can go somewhere more private. You know, for… studying.”

Minho’s face turned bright red. He knew exactly what Jisung was implying, and despite the teasing tone, there was a flicker of sincerity in his gaze that made Minho’s heart race. He was still getting used to this—used to the idea that Jisung actually liked him, wanted to be close to him. It felt surreal, like something out of a dream, but every time Jisung leaned in just a little too close or sent him a smile that made his knees weak, it reminded him that this was real.

Minho cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “We’re supposed to be working,” he said, though even he could hear the lack of conviction in his words.

Jisung smirked, clearly sensing Minho’s flustered state. “Oh, come on, Minho,” he teased, leaning in even closer so that their noses were almost touching. “I think you like it when I distract you.”

Minho’s breath hitched, his heart hammering in his chest. For a moment, neither of them moved, the space between them charged with a tension that was both thrilling and terrifying. Then, with a soft chuckle, Jisung leaned back, letting Minho breathe again.

“I’m just kidding,” Jisung said, though the mischievous twinkle in his eyes didn’t disappear entirely. “But seriously, let’s take a break. We’ve been working hard.”

Minho sighed, knowing full well that Jisung wouldn’t let up until he agreed. “Fine, we can take a break,” he relented, setting his quill down and leaning back in his chair. “But we’re coming back to this afterward.”

Jisung grinned triumphantly, as if he had won some great victory. He didn’t waste a second before scooting his chair closer to Minho, their knees now touching under the table. “So,” Jisung began, his voice light and teasing again, “what’s it like, being my tutor and my—” He paused dramatically, his grin widening. “—boyfriend?”

Minho’s face flushed a deep shade of red. “B-Boyfriend? Is that what we are now?”

Jisung raised an eyebrow, his smile softening just slightly. “Well, aren’t we?”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat. They hadn’t really talked about it since the night of the confession. Things had just… happened. But hearing Jisung say it so casually, so naturally, made it feel real in a way that both thrilled and terrified him.

“I guess we are,” Minho said quietly, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Jisung’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the teasing glint disappeared, replaced by something warmer, gentler. “Good,” he said softly. “Because I like calling you my boyfriend.”

Minho’s heart swelled at the words. He had spent so long admiring Jisung from afar, convincing himself that his feelings would never be reciprocated. Now, hearing Jisung say it so simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, made him feel like he was floating.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of their new reality settling in. Jisung, ever the tactile one, had taken to resting his hand on Minho’s knee, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles over the fabric of Minho’s robes. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to send Minho’s heart racing all over again.

Eventually, though, the silence was broken when Jisung leaned in again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Hey, Minho… do you think we should tell people? You know, about us?”

Minho blinked, startled by the question. He hadn’t even thought about that—about what it would mean to go public with their relationship. Would people gossip? Would they get weird looks in the corridors?

But then he looked at Jisung, who was watching him with that same soft smile, and the answer came easily. “Yeah,” Minho said, his voice firm but warm. “I think we should.”

Jisung’s grin widened, and he leaned in to press a quick, playful kiss to Minho’s cheek. “Good. Because I was planning on holding your hand in the Great Hall tomorrow morning, and I didn’t want you to freak out.”

Minho laughed, though his cheeks burned at the thought. “I think I’ll survive.”

As the days passed, their relationship continued to blossom in small, tender moments. Jisung, never one to shy away from showing affection, began to pepper their days with even more touches, more playful banter. He would grab Minho’s hand as they walked to class, or he’d wrap an arm around Minho’s shoulders when they sat together in the common room.

At first, Minho had been flustered, not used to such open displays of affection. But as time went on, he found himself leaning into it—enjoying the closeness, the warmth of Jisung’s presence. It wasn’t long before he started reciprocating, letting himself be more vulnerable, more open.

They found a balance between their teasing banter and the softer, more intimate moments that came with being in a relationship. Minho, who had always been more reserved, surprised himself with how much he enjoyed the little touches, the quiet moments when it was just the two of them.

One evening, they found themselves sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room—Jisung had insisted on showing Minho around, even though Ravenclaws technically weren’t supposed to be there. They sat close, their legs tangled together as they shared a blanket. Jisung was talking about something—Minho wasn’t sure what, because he was too distracted by the way Jisung’s hand was resting on his knee, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the fabric of Minho’s pants.

“…and then Professor McGonagall said I had to stay behind to clean up the mess,” Jisung was saying, his voice light and animated. “I mean, it wasn’t even my cauldron that exploded, but—Minho? You’re not even listening, are you?”

Minho blinked, snapping out of his daze. “What? Sorry, I was—”

Jisung laughed, shaking his head fondly. “You’re hopeless,” he teased, but there was no real malice in his words. Instead, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Minho’s temple. “Good thing you’re cute.”

Minho’s face flushed, but he couldn’t help but smile. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” Jisung shot back, grinning like the little menace he was.

Minho’s heart swelled with affection as he looked at Jisung—the boy who had driven him crazy for years, who had been a thorn in his side and the center of his universe all at once. And now, somehow, improbably, he was sitting here with him, their hands intertwined, their hearts finally on the same page.

Minho didn’t know what the future held for them—whether it would be smooth sailing or filled with bumps along the way. But for now, sitting here with Jisung, he felt like everything was exactly where it needed to be.

“Alright,” Jisung said suddenly, standing up and pulling Minho with him. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were just hanging out?”

Jisung’s grin widened. “Yeah, but I think we’ve done enough of that for today. Now it’s time for this,” he said, leaning in and pulling Minho into a soft, lingering kiss that left no room for argument.

Minho, dazed and a little breathless, could only nod.

“Lead the way.”