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Hyeonjoon saw him at the St. Angela Church, just outside Hogsmeade. Jihoon wasn’t alone.
So he goes to church now.
It was one of the older wizarding traditions—a quiet, seldom-visited place located on the edge of the village, where magic and faith intertwined. It was not quite like Muggle churches, though patterned similarly.
The magic inside the church was subtle, humming beneath the stone. The chapel’s stained glass caught bright yellow and white lights, enchanted to shimmer softly even on cloudy days. The candles floated, and the faint scent of roses and burnt parchment lingered in the air.
Few young wizards made the trek to the church anymore. Most preferred the comforting warmth and energy of the Three Broomsticks or the lively buzz of Zonko’s. The church was a place for those searching for something deeper—comfort, forgiveness, or just a place to be still and calm.
Back when they were still together—living in a cramped flat not far from the Hog’s Head—Hyeonjoon could never once convince Jihoon to come to church with him.
“I'm not religious,” Jihoon had said. “The spells are one thing, but prayers? It feels like pretending.”
That had been one of the reasons they broke up.
Hyeonjoon instinctively hid behind a stone pillar, the flickering floating candles shielding him from view. He thought it was better that Jihoon didn’t see him and that their paths didn't cross anymore.
After the mass, their paths crossed again. This time at a small, dusty bookshop tucked down a crooked lane just off Hogsmeade’s main street. The bell tinkled faintly as the door opened. Jihoon was still with her—the girl with the easy smile, her cloak a soft green that caught the light.
Back when they were still Hogwarts students, Jihoon never once ventured into a bookshop with him.
“I'm not into reading,” Jihoon had said, waving off the idea of curling up together reading magical theory or the thick volumes of Wizarding History.
Another reason they fell apart.
Hyeonjoon had meant to avoid him, but their eyes met before he could.
“How are you?” Jihoon asked, as though no time had passed. As if the last time they spoke was only yesterday.
“I'm fine,” Hyeonjoon answered quietly.
Jihoon introduced the girl beside him with a smile. Neither of them acknowledged the past. The girl’s hand was firm when she shook his.
"Where have you guys been?" Hyeonjoon asked, keeping it casual.
"We attended the mass," she answered.
"Oh, so you go to church now," Hyeonjoon teased, forcing a smile.
“Yeah. I’m a good boy now,” Jihoon said with a grin, his canines showing just slightly.
Hyeonjoon’s chest tightened. He hated how, after all these years, that damned, cheeky smile still had an effect on him.
“And you read now, too,” Hyeonjoon added, nodding toward the books they held—a beginner’s guide to runes, a collection of love stories enchanted with minor charms.
“Because of her,” Jihoon said, nudging the girl’s shoulder.
She smiled, and Hyeonjoon saw it in her eyes—pride. She was proud that she’d changed him.
With heavy books in hand—a mix of magical histories, the latest on Herbology, and one too many romance novels—Hyeonjoon stepped out into the crisp autumn air of Hogsmeade.
And out with a heavy heart, too.
He cast a warming charm over his hands, but it did little to ease the cold settling in his chest.
Through the bookshop’s enchanted window, he caught one last glimpse: Jihoon and the girl laughing quietly, heads bent together as they happily browsed the shelves.
So he was willing to change. To grow. To soften. Why not for him, back then?
Hyeonjoon tightened his grip on the books and disapparated quietly into the night.
As he walked past the crooked signpost pointing toward the Shrieking Shack, an old memory came rushing back.
It was one of the times they spent inside the Shrieking Shack. The night where they first slept together. It wasn’t an ideal place to have sex, but it was magical for both of them.
They were young, reckless, and both of them couldn't take their hands off each other. Maybe it was foolish—but inside those creaking walls, they had found comfort in each other's embrace.
Jihoon had pulled Hyeonjoon close beneath the old, broken piano inside one of the rooms. It was their spot. There was a broken window nearby where the moonlight hit the fractured glass.
“Is something wrong?” Hyeonjoon asked.
He whispered in Hyeonjoon's ear, his breath warm, “Nothing, just let me recharge for a bit.”
Hyeonjoon had smiled, heart pounding, and for the first time believed maybe some kind of magic could protect both of them. Protect whatever it is that they had right in that moment.
But clearly, magic alone wasn’t enough.
That evening, in his flat near the Hog’s Head, Hyeonjoon lit a floating candle and curled beneath an old quilt.
He opened yet another romance novel—the kind he’d never admit to owning.
His eyes blurred. His throat ached.
And in his mind, Jihoon’s voice echoed, soft and haunting. The lyrics to a song—a song whose title he had long forgotten, which Jihoon had used to sing him:
Beautiful.
Just the way that you would look at me
Was so much I’d never want to leave
I... I...
Keep trying to forget how you were
Beautiful.
Just the way that you were calling my name
But without you it won’t be the same
But he couldn’t. Not really. Not even with all the magic in the world.
He couldn’t forget—and wouldn't want to forget—Jeong Jihoon.