Archive of Our Own

“You know, you wouldn’t be too tired to study if you weren’t out so late practicing Quidditch last night.”

“You don’t even know how late I was out.”

“I can guess,” Taerae replies, deadpan.

Matthew hums, “Yeah, sure.”

The Ravenclaw common room hums with quiet activity, nobody bothered by the not altogether uncommon sighting of Taerae and Matthew curled up together, studying on one of the deep blue couches. 

Taerae has an advanced-level Potions textbook open across his lap, his quill scratching against a piece of parchment as he jots down notes, thoroughly locked in on his studies.

Beside him, Matthew is... less productive. 

He’s slouched back against the cushions, with a Muggle Studies textbook open in his lap, though he’s barely looking at it. Instead, Matthew’s head tilts slightly, eyelids drooping as a yawn escapes him. When he shifts closer, leaning against Taerae’s side, Taerae doesn’t bother pushing him off. 

If anything, he adjusts slightly to make room, not that Taerae would willingly admit that. 

“If you’re going to sleep, you should go back to your own dorm,” he mutters, though there’s no real fight in his words.

Matthew snorts softly, “You’re comfier than my dorm.”

“My shoulder is more comfortable than your bed?”

“It’s not just the shoulder. It’s the whole vibe.” he says, as he settles further into the cushions, clearly making himself comfortable. 

“You’ve got a whole bunch of housemates in Gryffindor. You’d think they’d have plenty of ‘vibe,’ ” Taerae huffs, glancing down at the textbook in his lap.

Matthew hums again, a sound that’s half agreement, half dismissal. 

Matthew has always had a knack for sneaking into the Ravenclaw common room. Somehow charming his way past the riddle of the day with a mix of persistence and sheer cheekiness, and the occasional bribe to Taerae’s fellow Ravenclaws. 

“Do you even go to your own dorm?”

“Sometimes. But Gryffindor doesn’t have you.”

“Matthew—”

“It’s just Muggle Studies, anyway,” he interrupts. “I know all of this already.”

Before Taerae can respond, Matthew sets his book down—face down—on the table. 

Taerae’s mouth falls open in silent outrage.

“Matthew,” he hisses, shooting the book a look of sympathy at the book as though it’s been personally wronged. “You’re going to ruin the spine!”

Matthew, entirely unfazed, waves a dismissive hand. “It’s fine. It’s just a school copy.”

“That makes it worse!” Taerae protests, his indignation growing. “Books deserve respect! Especially books that don’t belong to you!”

But Matthew doesn’t seem to hear him.

Or, more likely, he’s ignoring him. 

Because instead of fixing his book, Matthew shifts closer, tucking himself further against Taerae’s side and pulling Taerae’s cloak around his shoulders like a makeshift blanket.

“Ah, much better,” Matthew mumbles, already half-asleep and comfortable. 

“You can’t just—”

But Matthew doesn’t seem to hear here. His head tips sideways, coming to rest heavily on Taerae’s shoulder, and within moments, his breathing evens out. 

He’s out like a light.

Taerae adjusts the textbook in his lap. There’s no way he can both turn the pages and hold the book one handed, which means Matthew’s choice to nap in his common room has rendered Taerae’s studying plans obsolete. 

Taerae sighs.

Normally, he doesn’t like being leaned on or touched. 

He values his space. 

It’s something his Ravenclaw friends have teased him about for years, calling him prickly or overly self-contained at times. 

But with Matthew, it’s... different.

He doesn’t mind so much. 

Not when it’s Matthew.

Matthew’s hair is soft against his neck, the faint scent of pine and leather cling to him, likely lingering from the hours he spent on the quidditch pitch earlier. The same scent that had haunted him the one time he brewed amortentia in their potions lab. 

Not that Taerae had admitted that at the time. 

He glances around the common room, catching sight of a few of his fellow Ravenclaws passing by. Some of them cast knowing looks in his direction, their eyes flicking between him and Matthew with barely concealed amusement.

Jeonghyeon in particular smirks as he walks by, leaning down just enough to murmur, “Your Gryffindor shadow’s visiting again?” 

Taerae rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t bother responding. 

He’s heard it all before—how Matthew is always trailing after him, or how the Gryffindor seems to spend more time in the Ravenclaw common room than his own dormitory.

Jeonghyeon’s teasing doesn’t bother him, but the interruption is enough to disturb Matthew.

Matthew stirs, rubbing at his eyes and blinking blearily, enough so that Taerae turns to apologize to him for moving, even though he had been the one to scold Matthew against napping moments before. 

But the words catch in his throat, because when he turns, suddenly he realizes that their faces are very close together. 

Close enough that Taerae can see the faint freckles scattered across Matthew’s nose, and the way his lashes flutter as he blinks away sleep. 

“Taerae?” Matthew says, his voice soft and hesitant, pulling Taerae’s attention away from his textbook.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Taerae nods, momentarily surprised by how serious Matthew sounds, despite having been asleep mere moments before, “Uh, sure, shoot.”

“Can you help me brew a potion?” Matthew asks, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck in a gesture Taerae has come to recognize as a sign of nervousness in their many years as friends. 

It’s rare to see Matthew like this—unsure, almost shy.

Not very Gryffindor like at all.

“What kind of potion?”

“A potion for bravery.”

“You, Mr. Gryffindor Quidditch star, the sixth year voted second most likely to know everyone in Hogwarts, you need a potion for bravery?” 

Matthew lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah…?”

Taerae’s brow furrows, as he asks, “Why?”

“There’s someone I like,” Matthew admits, the words tumbling out in a rush, as though he’s been holding them back for a while. “And I’m nervous to ask him out, because I don’t know if he feels the same, so I thought maybe a bravery potion could help?”

The confession catches Taerae off guard. 

Not the fact that Matthew needs a potion, but more so that—“There’s someone you like?”

“Yeah,” he nods.

The words hit him like a Bludger to the chest, knocking the air out of him. 

Someone Matthew likes? 

“Like romantically?”

“Yeah,” Matthew nods again, his cheeks tinged pink.

The thought feels foreign, wrong.

Taerae’s mind is too loud, too full. 

He’d never considered Matthew liking someone romantically—or how much it would bother him. 

But oh , it does bother him.

A little more than he’d like to admit. 

Taerae leans back slightly, crossing his arms as he studies Matthew. 

It’s strange to see him like this—so vulnerable, so uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Matthew usually exudes confidence and charm, but now he is sitting here, nervous and fidgety, asking for help with a bravery potion for a love confession, of all things.

“You really care about this guy, huh?”

Matthew nods, “Yeah. I really do.”

Taerae makes a soft and slightly displeased noise at the sincerity in Matthew’s voice.

“So?” Matthew prompts. 

“So?” Taerae echoes, his stomach twisting with uncertainty. 

“So Potions Master Taerae, will you help me?”

Taerae hesitates. 

Before, against his better judgment, he nods. “Yeah. I’ll help.”

*

He’s not even sure when it started.

They’d met during their first year, on the train to Hogwarts. 

Matthew, wide-eyed and full of questions, every bit the Muggle-born kid seeing magic for the first time. 

And Taerae, already so sure of himself at eleven—so sure of where he was going to be sorted and what he was going once he was—that when the Sorting Hat called out Ravenclaw, it hadn’t surprised him in the slightest.

Was he a little disappointed when the Headmistress called out “Seok” and the boy he’d met on the train ended up in Gryffindor? 

Sure. 

Maybe a little. 

Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

But as it is, it hardly matters.

Despite being sorted into different houses, Matthew never stopped wanting to be his friend. 

And despite the fact that Matthew was more likely to be found on a Quidditch pitch than in a Potions lab like Taerae, it worked. 

Somehow, it just worked.

Being friends worked.

It’s been Matthew and Taerae or Taerae and Matthew for so long now that the idea of it being Matthew and someone else feels... wrong.

But…

“So, who do you think it is that Matthew has a crush on?” Jeonghyeon asks, over breakfast as he stabs at a piece of sausage on his plate. 

Gossip travels fast at Hogwarts, it seems. 

Taerae groans, “I don’t know! That’s the problem!”

Jeonghyeon exchanges a look with Park Hanbin, who raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay, but you’re his best friend. You should know someone, ” Hanbin presses, clearly enjoying Taerae’s frustration.

“I don’t , ” Taerae mutters, his voice muffled against his hands. “He’s never said anything to me about a crush before last night.”

They’re sitting at the Ravenclaw table, around them the usual clatter of breakfast fills the air—students chatting, plates clinking, owls swooping down to deliver mail. 

But Taerae’s attention isn’t on any of that. 

His eyes are fixed across the room, where the Gryffindor Quidditch team sits huddled together, laughing and eating like they don’t have a care in the world.

Matthew is there, of course, right in the middle of it all. 

He’s leaning back casually, grinning as he talks to Nien, one of his fellow Gryffindor Chasers.

“It’s probably someone on the Quidditch team,” Jeonghyeon suggests, following Taerae’s gaze.

Taerae frowns. 

That… makes sense. 

It’s a perfectly logical confusion.

Matthew spends most of his time with them, after all, but who ?

He knows Matthew is bisexual, which only makes narrowing it down harder. There’s simply too many options.

If this had been a few years ago, Taerae would’ve been sure it was Sung Hanbin, Gryffindor’s Seeker. Matthew and Hanbin had been inseparable when Matthew first joined the team, Hanbin having taken Matthew under his wing. And in their third year, Matthew had even confessed to Taerae that he had a small crush on his hyung. But Hanbin’s been off the market for years now, happily dating a Slytherin boy who Taerae’s pretty sure could duel anyone in the school and win.

So, not Hanbin.

As for the Chasers… it’s probably not Youngeun. She’s only a fourth year, and that feels a little young for Matthew.

It could be Nien, though. 

Taerae’s eyes narrow as he watches Matthew lean against her, laughing at something she said. 

He tries to picture it—Matthew and Nien as a couple—and immediately hates the way it makes his stomach twist.

Then there are the Beaters, Tsuki and Sungchan.

But Sungchan has a boyfriend, and as for Tsuki… well, Taerae once saw her crush a watermelon with her bare hands during a Gryffindor party. 

He’s still a little terrified of her.

If it’s Tsuki, Taerae stands no chance, so he really hopes it isn’t her.

Which leaves… Wonbin.

Taerae’s gaze shifts to where Matthew is now actively leaning across the table to poke at Wonbin’s arm, grinning as Wonbin rolls his eyes but doesn’t push him away.

Oh, no !

Matthew did say ‘he’ last night, didn’t he?

The thought of Matthew and Wonbin together feels almost… believable. 

Too believable. 

And Taerae does not like that.

“Yeah,” Jeonghyeon says thoughtfully, noticing where Taerae’s looking. “Wonbin could make sense. I mean, unless it’s not someone from his house at all.”

There’s something about the way Jeonghyeon says it that feels pointed. 

Taerae glances at him, confused, “Who else would it be?”

But the other Ravenclaw just smirks, “I thought it was obvious.”

However, before he can elaborate, just what he thought was so obvious .

Cha Woongki appears as if summoned by the sheer force of gossip. 

His yellow Hufflepuff scarf is wrapped snugly around his neck, and his grin wide in a way that makes Taerae a little bit nervous, especially when he slides into the seat beside them with the ease of someone who actually belongs at the Ravenclaw table, a small herd of Hufflepuff third and fourth years trailing behind him eagerly following along with his every movement. 

“Good morning, gossip club,” Woongki chirps, helping himself to a piece of toast from Taerae’s plate without so much as asking. Taerae barely has time to register the intrusion before Woongki continues, “You know, a little birdie told me that Matthew’s going to be asking someone out soon.” He leans forward, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And as his best friend, I assume you know who it is, so—”

“I don’t,” Taerae interrupts, his tone a little bit sharper than he intends.

Woongki’s grin falters for a fraction of a second before morphing into an exaggerated pout. “Oh, boo. That’s no fun. I thought you Ravenclaws were supposed to know things.”

Taerae opens his mouth to respond, but the words stick in his throat. 

He glances across the Great Hall again, where Matthew is now animatedly telling a story to the Gryffindor Quidditch team, his hands gesturing wildly. Wonbin throws his head back, laughing, and Matthew leans in closer to him, clearly eager for his attention. 

Taerae’s stomach twists again.

Suddenly, eating breakfast feels like a near impossible task. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly, "Me too.”

Woongki sighs dramatically, before announcing, “Well, if you don’t know, then I guess the rest of us are doomed. I’ll just have to find out the old-fashioned way.”

“And how’s that?” 

“By being everywhere, of course. Gossip doesn’t come to you—you got to go to it,” Woongki says as he winks at them, and the little huddle of Hufflepuff third and fourth years that follow Woongki around nod in agreement, as if being given wise words from their ‘master of gossip.’ 

Taerae’s fellow Ravenclaws are less than impressed. 

“You mean you eavesdrop,” Hanbin corrects, with a snort. 

“Details,” Woongki says airily, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “Anyway, don’t let me stop you. Carry on with your little breakfast, little birdies.”

With that, he grabs another piece of toast and saunters off, his scarf trailing behind him like a banner, his entourage following behind him as he goes. 

Taerae watches him go, feeling a mix of relief and frustration, because if even Woongki doesn’t know who Matthew likes, then what hope does Taerae have of figuring it out?

His gaze drifts back to Matthew, who’s now playfully shoving Wonbin’s shoulder. 

The thought hits him again, unbidden and unwelcome: It could be Wonbin.

And for reasons he can’t quite explain, that thought feels unbearable.

*

“Okay,” Taerae says, scanning the supply list he’d made earlier. “We need powdered moonstone first. That should be… third shelf, left side, in a blue jar. Can you grab it?”

The potions supply closet is cramped.

The air is thick with the mingling scents of dried herbs, musty parchment, and the faintly sour tang of pickled ingredients that prickles at Taerae’s nose. Meanwhile, shelves line every inch of the walls, stacked with jars, vials, and bundles of magical components, some glowing faintly in the dim light. 

Not exactly the most exciting place to spend one’s evening, but Taerae is thankfully on good terms with their potions professor, Professor Kwon, and she hadn’t looked at him with too much suspicion when he’d explained why he’d needed to raid her supply closet. 

Matthew crouches down on the floor, squinting at the row of jars Taerae indicated. “Blue jar… blue jar… ah, got it!” He pulls out the jar and holds it up triumphantly. The moonstone powder inside shimmers like liquid starlight.

“Perfect,” Taerae says, already moving on. “Next, we need a valerian root. There should be some on the top shelf, tied in bundles.”

Matthew glances up, his brow furrowing. “You mean the top shelf that’s practically touching the ceiling?”

“What, too high for the Quidditch star,” he teases.

Which if anything seems to rile Matthew up, the Gryffindor looks seconds away from trying to find a way to scale the shelves and climb up there to get it.

Only stopping when Taerae bursts into laughter, “You do know magic exists, right?”

“Right, right,” Matthew says, laughing a little himself, before he pulls out his wand. “Accio valerian root!” 

A bundle of dried roots floats off the top shelf and lands neatly in Matthew’s outstretched hand a moment later. 

“Okay, next is billywig stingers. They’ll be in a small glass jar with a yellow label, probably near the back.”

Matthew moves to the next shelf, muttering to himself as he searches. “Small jar, yellow label… nope, that’s newt spleen… not that either…” He pauses, holding up a jar filled with tiny, sharp stingers suspended in liquid. “This it?”

“Yep, that’s the one. Careful with those—they’re potent.”

Matthew sets the jar down carefully on the counter beside them, “What’s next?”

“Phoenix tears,” he says, scanning the shelves. “Should be in a silver vial. Very rare, so it might not be here…” He trails off, searching the rows with a small frown. Their professor had mentioned that she was long overdue for a restocking, so he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to find the supply closet missing a few things.

Especially something as rare as Phoenix tears. 

“Not here. We’ll have to buy them in Hogsmeade. They’re expensive, but we can’t make this without them,” Taerae says with a sigh. 

“If it’s so rare, do we really need it? Can’t we just skip it,” Matthew suggests. 

“Not for a bravery potion," he explains, shaking his head, "The tears stabilize the other ingredients. Without them, the whole thing could blow up in your face. Literally.”

“Okay, noted. No skipping phoenix tears,” Matthew says with a grimace. “Anything else we’re missing?”

Taerae scans the parchment again. “We’ll need griffin claw powder too. It takes weeks to prepare properly, but sometimes you can find it pre-powdered in the wild. If not, we’ll add it to the shopping list.”

“Okay, not too bad,” Matthew hums, “We can go to Hogsmeade this weekend and buy whatever else we need, right?”

Taerae nods, already mentally listing the shops they’ll need to visit. There’s a few things he needs to pick up for other projects anyways, so a Hogsmeade trip is probably a good idea, and maybe he can offer to pick some things up for Professor Kwon as a thank you to her for letting them raid her supply closet. 

“Yeah, that works,” Taerae says. 

“Perfect. It’s a date, then!”

Taerae pauses, eyebrows shooting up, doing his best to ignore how the word date falling from Matthew’s lips makes his heart flutter just a little. 

“Don’t let whoever you’re crushing on hear that,” Taerae mutters, “They might get the wrong idea.”

Matthew blinks, and then a slow, sheepish smile spreads across his face. “Oh, yeah. He’d probably… Yeah…”

He. 

Taerae freezes for half a second, filing the information away. 

Matthew said he again.

He wants to ask who it is—who he is—but the words catch in his throat. 

“Right. So Hogsmeade this weekend,” Taerae says, trying to keep his tone light and not betray the way his mind is spinning.

“Yeah,” Matthew echoes, “Hogsmeade this weekend.”

*

“You forgot your scarf, didn’t you?” 

“I couldn’t find it,” Taerae mutters, as he continues on their path to Hogsmeade, doing his best to ignore the way the winter air nips at his cheeks and the back of his neck, “You know, I have a semi-frequent clothes thief that stays over in my dorm quite often. Perhaps he knows where my scarf’s gotten off too.” 

Matthew laughs, the sound warm and easy. “Beats me.” 

Taerae narrows his eyes at Matthew in suspicion, which only causes the Gryffindor to laugh more. 

“I’m fine,” he insists, though his goosebumps betray him. “It’s not even that cold, really.” 

Matthew sighs, shaking his head. “You’re terrible at lying.” 

Before Taerae can protest, Matthew starts unwrapping his own scarf, the red and gold fabric catching the faint light. “What are you doing?” 

“Saving you from turning into an icicle,” Matthew says, as he loops the scarf around Taerae’s neck, his fingers brushing against Taerae’s skin as he adjusts it.

Taerae freezes, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. 

Matthew’s hands linger for a moment, tugging the scarf into place, and when he looks up, their eyes meet.

The thing is, Taerae has always known he liked Matthew.

Since that very first day on the Hogwarts Express, when Matthew lost his grip on a chocolate frog and sent it flying across the compartment, causing chaos and laughter. 

But it wasn’t until years later, when Matthew’s smile started making his stomach flip, that Taerae realized what he felt wasn’t just an intense desire to be Matthew’s best friend.

It was something more.

And now, standing here with Matthew’s scarf wrapped snugly around his neck and Matthew smiling at him like this, it’s almost too much.

Taerae likes him.

As so much more than just a best friend. 

But then, the reminder hits him—Matthew likes someone else. 

Someone who isn’t him.

Someone that Taerae is helping him ask out. 

His chest aches.

If only he had been the braver one, and told Matthew what he felt before, what he’s felt all this time… But it’s too late. 

Matthew, oblivious to the turmoil in Taerae’s mind, breaks the moment with a grin. “We can go to Gladrags first for the phoenix tears, right? They usually have rare potion ingredients.”

Taerae blinks, the spell broken as he’s pulled back to the present. 

 “Y-yeah,” he stammers, his voice barely steady.

“Great,” Matthew says, grabbing Taerae’s hand and tugging him forward. 

His touch is casual, friendly, but it sends Taerae’s traitorous heart into a flutter nonetheless. 

“After that,” Matthew adds, glancing back at him, “We can stop at the Three Broomsticks for butterbeers. Warm you up a bit.”

Taerae swallows hard, forcing himself to smile. “I told you, I’m really not that cold.”

“Sure, you’re not.” 

*

The potions lab feels colder at night.

As if the stone walls of the dungeon leech the warmth from the air. 

Though maybe that’s just the way Taerae feels, betraying his own heart like this. 

The potion inside of the cauldron in front of him simmers gently, already a pale amber as it bubbles toward completion.

Taerae hunches over the workbench, sleeves rolled up and wandlight illuminating his meticulous notes, as he continues to make sure the potion is perfect. 

Behind him, Matthew is perched on an empty table, his legs crossed beneath him, swinging his wand back and forth slightly as he watches Taerae with that easy, lopsided grin.

“You’re kinda cute when you get all concentratey, you know,” Matthew says, “Your face gets all scrunchy when you’re trying to make sure everything is perfect.” 

“ Concentratey isn’t a word,” Taerae says, ignoring the way the compliment Matthew had given him makes a butterfly flutter in his chest, as he stirs the potion clockwise three times. “And you’re lucky I’m a perfectionist, or this potion might turn your skin purple instead of making you brave. Imagine your crush seeing you looking like a grape.”

“Maybe they’d like grapes,” he shoots back, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his tone, “Would you still love me if I was a grape?” 

“Unlikely,” Taerae mutters, glancing at his notes again. His fingers brush the edges of the parchment, the familiar routine grounding him. 

Brewing potions is second nature to him, something he takes pride in. 

But tonight, every step feels like a tiny betrayal.

He drops a single, perfectly measured drop of salamander blood into the cauldron, watching as the potion swirls from amber to gold. 

The sight should fill him with satisfaction—his potion is perfect, as always—but instead, it feels like a stone settling in his stomach.

Because this potion isn’t for some class.

Or even for his own personal projects. 

It’s for Matthew. 

For Matthew’s crush. 

For someone who isn’t Taerae.

He doesn’t even know who it is, and that almost makes it worse. 

His mind keeps conjuring images of Quidditch players, and pretty Gryffindors with easy smiles. 

But the truth is that it doesn’t matter who it is. 

All that matters is that it’s not him.

“Taerae?” Matthew’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. 

He looks up to find Matthew watching him, his head tilted, concern flickering in his brown eyes. “What?” 

“You were staring at the cauldron like it insulted your mother,” Matthew remarks. “Don’t tell me Mr. Perfectionist made a mistake?”

Taerae rolls his eyes, scooping up a pinch of powdered lionfish spine and adding it to the potion. “No mistakes. Just thinking about how much trouble you’d be in without me.”

Matthew laughs, the sound warm and familiar, and Taerae feels it settle in his chest like a bittersweet ache.

Who knows how much longer he’ll get to have moments like this with Matthew?

Not once Matthew finally makes a move on his crush?

The Gryffindor will probably be too busy with his new boyfriend to spend any time with Taerae.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Matthew says after a moment, his voice quieter.

Taerae’s hand stills over the cauldron. 

He doesn’t look at Matthew, doesn’t trust himself to. 

“Of course,” he says, forcing a smile. “Any time. You’re my best friend, Matt. I’d do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” Matthew mutters, almost to himself. “You would.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with everything he doesn’t say.

He finishes the potion in silence, the gold liquid shimmering as he pours it into a small glass vial. He corks it carefully, then turns to hand it to Matthew. Their fingers brush as Matthew takes it, and Taerae’s foolish heart does a stupid, painful little flip in his chest.

“Good luck with confessing to your crush,” Taerae says, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

“Yeah. Taerae, I—”

“When are you going to do it?” 

 “Uh, probably the day after tomorrow. Before the big Quidditch match…?”

Taerae nods, his chest tightening, “Makes sense.”

Definitely someone from the Quidditch team, then.

Like Wonbin? 

At least… Now Taerae knows when it’ll be happening.

So he can spend the day sleeping in and avoiding anything to do with the Gryffindor Quidditch team for his own mental health’s sake. 

“Cool, cool,” he says, stepping back and grabbing his bag. “Well, good night, Matthew. Don’t stay up too late.”

Matthew blinks at him, his mouth opening like he’s about to say something, but then he just closes it again.  “Yeah. Uh, good night, Taerae.”

*

Taerae burrows deeper under his blanket, willing the world to leave him alone. 

He’s made it two whole days without crossing paths with Matthew, since their last meeting in the potions lab, where Taerae had made Matthew his bravery potion.

And Taerae is determined to keep it that way. 

His plan is simple: stay in bed all day, avoid the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match, and sleep through whatever romantic spectacle Matthew has planned for his mystery crush.

He tells himself it’s the smart thing to do. 

Once Matthew starts dating, things will change. 

Matthew will have someone else to spend his time with, and Taerae will just be… the best friend who helped him confess. 

Better to start getting used to the distance between them now.

Taerae pulls the blanket tighter around himself, his heart heavy in his chest. He’s never missed one of Matthew’s matches before—not even when Ravenclaw wasn’t playing. 

But today, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff can battle it out without him.

He doesn’t care at all.

In fact, he’s almost completely back to sleep when someone shakes him, forcing him back into wakefulness. 

“Taerae! Kim Taerae, get up!”

Taerae groans and peeks out from under the blanket, squinting up at the intruder. 

“Woongki?” He croaks. “How did you get in here?” 

Woongki grins, completely unbothered by the early hour or Taerae’s obvious annoyance or the fact that a Hufflepuff should not be in the Ravenclaw dorms at all, “It’s happening today! Get up!”

“I know,” Taerae tells him, “That’s why I’m sleeping.”

“Come on,” Woongki says, tugging at the blanket. “Don’t you want to know who Matthew’s confessing to?”

“Not really.”

“Boo! Boo! Tomato, tomato!” Woongki chants, pelting him lightly with one of Taerae’s own pillows. “Get up! You’re going to regret it if you don’t.”

“What’s there to regret? Matthew’s going to confess, they’ll live happily ever after, and I’ll be… here. Sleeping. Like a baby. Peacefully and unbothered.”

Woongki raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, his sharp gaze cutting through Taerae’s flimsy excuses far too easily, “I didn’t know you’re such a coward.”

“Yes well, us Ravenclaws were never known for our bravery ,” Taerae bristles, his voice defensive and a little too loud. 

Woongki crosses his arms and tilts his head, studying Taerae before he says, “You’re just scared to see him with someone else, aren’t you?” 

Taerae’s mouth opens, ready to fire back, but no retort comes. 

The truth in Woongki’s words hits him square in the chest, and he suddenly feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

He looks away, his fingers twisting nervously in the hem of his blanket. 

“That’s not—” He stops himself, biting down on the words before they can spill out. 

What’s the point in denying it? 

Woongki knows him too well.

He’s pretty sure all of his friends have been able to pick up on the fact that the situation regarding Matthew’s mystery crush has been bothering him since it was first brought up many days ago.

All of his friends, except one.

The one that mattered the most… Matthew .  

“You’ve liked him for ages, Taerae,” Woongki tells him, as if Taerae didn’t already know this. “And instead of doing something about it, you’re hiding in bed while he’s out there, probably waiting for you to show up like you always do.”

Taerae swallows hard, the knot in his stomach tightening. 

He knows Woongki’s right, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“Why would he be waiting for me,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Look, just trust me,” Woongki says, leaning down so they’re eye to eye. “If you don’t show up today, you’re going to regret it. You’re going to spend the rest of your life wondering what would’ve happened if you’d just been brave enough to go.”

Go and do what?

Stop the love of his life from confession to someone else?

It sounds ridiculous, and not like him at all.

But somehow, it’s enough to get Taerae to finally climb out of bed.

“Fine,” he mutters, throwing off the blanket and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll go. But only because you’re so annoyingly persistent.”

Woongki grins, his victory clear on his face. “Good choice! Now hurry up everyone’s waiting for you!”

“Wait, why would they be waiting for me ?!”

*

Taerae grumbles the entire way down to the courtyard as he trails after Woongki, Hanbin, and Jeonghyeon, who all seem far too excited about whatever is about to happen. As if they’re all in on some great big secret that Taerae himself isn’t privy to. 

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Because you’re the star of the show,” Woongki says without missing a beat, glancing back at him with a knowing smirk. “Don’t you know?”

Taerae doesn’t dignify that with a response other than rolling his eyes.

By the time they make it down to the courtyard, there’s a large crowd in attendance. As if every other sixth-year and even a few younger kids were already gathered there, everyone eager to see who Matthew was going to confess to. 

Maybe Matthew hadn’t been wrong to ask for a bravery potion, considering how large his audience was…

Though he doubts the Gryffindor could have predicted all of this. 

He spots Matthew easily—he’s standing near the Hufflepuff Seeker, Hitomi, and another Hufflepuff player, Sohee, looking far too casual for someone about to confess their feelings.

His chest tightens as he thinks, ‘ Oh. Maybe it’s one of them. ’

However, as Taerae and his fellow Ravenclaws (and Woongki) enter the courtyard, a hush falls over the crowd, and Taerae feels as though every pair of eyes turn to him. 

Which makes no sense, except—“Oh, hey! Taerae!” 

Taerae freezes at the sound of Matthew’s voice, the way it echoes in the now nearly silent courtyard. 

His heart pounds as he forces himself to walk closer, hyper-aware of how everyone seems to be watching him and Matthew. 

Matthew is holding the little vial of bravery potion Taerae made for him in his hand, and Taerae watches in horror, as Matthew tips it back and gulps it down.

Oh no. 

He’s really going to do it. 

He’s going to confess.

Here and now, Taerae is finally here to witness his own heartbreak happen in real life. 

For a moment, Matthew seems to glow, the effects of the potion working instantly. Taerae feels a flicker of relief that Matthew doesn’t turn purple—at least he didn’t mess up the potion.

Matthew lets out a soft laugh, shaking his hands like he’s shaking off nervous energy. “Wow, okay, that’s… buzzy. Fuzzy! Not bad but— Woah ! You know?” 

“Well, aren’t you going to do it then?” Taerae asks, trying to sound casual, “Confess to whoever it is you like?”

Matthew turns to him, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“Yeah,” he says, stepping closer. “Yeah, I’m trying to do that.”

And then Matthew takes Taerae’s hands in his own.

Taerae stiffens, his voice dropping to a low hiss, “Matt, what are you doing?”

“I’m confessing,” Matthew says simply, his thumbs brushing gently over the back of Taerae’s hands.

“No, you’re not,” Taerae whispers, his foolish heart racing. “You’re holding my hands. You’re supposed to be going and confessing to your crush, not…”

Taerae looks down at their hands.

Maybe he did mess up the potion.

But Matthew just gives him a loopy little grin as he says, “Has anyone ever told you that you have such nice hands?”

“Matthew, what—”

But then Matthew looks up, their eyes meeting as he says, “Okay, I’m gonna do it now before this wears off.” 

 And suddenly, everything clicks.

Oh .

Oh.

“I like you, Taerae. I’ve liked you for a while. But I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I wasn’t brave enough to take the risk on my own.” Matthew lets out a shaky laugh, before he continues, “And yeah, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have you help me make the potion I needed to confess to you, but I really, really like you. I always have, and I didn’t want to mess this up. ”

Taerae stares at him, wide-eyed, his thoughts a chaotic mess. 

He glances down at their hands, then at the crowd around them, all watching with bated breath.

“Ahhh, why couldn’t you have said that two days ago?” Taerae groans, his voice a little too loud. “And not here, in front of everyone else? ”

Matthew shrugs, “I guess I needed the extra push.”

Taerae opens his mouth to respond, but Matthew leans in and kisses him, right there in the middle of the courtyard.

In front of everyone .

Probably because of that Merlin damned bravery potion that Taerae brewed for him. 

There’s a moment of stunned silence, before the crowd erupts into cheers, hoots, and hollers. 

Someone yells, “Fucking finally!” and Taerae vaguely registers Woongki’s obnoxious whooping, but all of it fades into the background.

All he can focus on is Matthew—on the way his lips feel soft and warm against his own, on the faint buzz in his chest that might be the potion lingering on Matthew’s lips, but feels more like pure happiness.

When they finally pull apart, Taerae’s face is flushed, and his heart feels like it’s beating far too loudly in his chest.

But this… But Matthew makes it all worth it. 

“I’m really glad the person you were going to confess to is me,” he admits, glancing down at their still-joined hands. “Because I felt really bad thinking about how much I was going to hate your future boyfriend while pretending I wasn’t jealous.”

Matthew laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, “Don’t talk about yourself like that. I think my future boyfriend is pretty great.” 

“Good,” Taerae says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Because ah, in case it wasn’t obvious, I really, really like you too, Matt.”

The crowd bursts into more cheers, but Taerae ignores them all, his attention fixed solely on Matthew.

Who gives him a little cocky Gryffindor grin as he replies, “Yeah, I know.” 

*

The Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff match is in full swing.

Taerae sits in the Ravenclaw stands, bundled in his scarf and trying to focus on the game.

Or more accurately, trying to find his boyfriend on the field. 

 It’s not too hard—Matthew is impossible to miss, zooming across the pitch with his usual energy, though Taerae can’t help but notice he seems… extra zoomy today.

As Matthew dives after the Quaffle, Taerae frowns, a thought suddenly striking him.

Oh no. 

The bravery potion.

In hindsight, maybe it hadn’t worn off yet. 

Taerae admittedly hadn’t exactly calculated how long the effects would last, and judging by the way Matthew is weaving through the Hufflepuff defense with reckless abandon, he’s definitely still under its influence.

Taerae bites his lip to stifle a laugh. 

Oops .

Well, it’s not like he’s going to get his boyfriend in trouble for athletic dishonesty.

Matthew zips by the stands, his grin as bright as the sun, and calls out, “This one’s for you, babe!” before tossing the Quaffle toward the goalposts with all the confidence in the world.

Taerae winces as it misses by a kilometer, bouncing harmlessly off the edge of the pitch.

Then again, maybe more bravery doesn’t actually translate to more Quidditch skills.

The crowd groans, but Matthew just laughs it off, looping around to rejoin his team. Taerae shakes his head, unable to stop smiling.

Ahhh, yes. 

His boyfriend.