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hwan-g · 1 year

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11 O’ CLOCK TICK TOCK 🪬 jisung & seungmin.

part two/four of the skz go to hogwarts! series.

MOODBOARD | PLAYLIST

pair. soothsayer! jisung x fem! reader (+ prefect! seungmin, changbin, chan, minho) | genre. fantasy, romance, minor angst, smut | warnings. profanity, pet names, brief mention of smoking, food/drinking, clairvoyance, mentions of dark magic, legilimency, flawed characters, cheating, exhibitionism, fingering, dirty talk | word count. 11k

synopsis. you ask yourself when it changed. when did runes become decisions, and books holes to hide unspeakable truths? was it when you neared your captain with the Golden Snitch, and he couldn’t look away from the gold? or was it when he ran after you the first time but not the second one? decisions accumulate, you conclude. they do, and they mean everything.

“What disappears as soon as you say its name?”

That was the riddle the Ravenclaws had to solve to enter their Common Room after dinner time. It was also, apparently, the reason why the stairs to the blue and bronze tower were blocked for the past thirty minutes. An intense game of chess was currently taking place on a tread, a consequence of boredom, with both parties having lost equal amounts of pawns.

“It literally can’t be that hard,” a scowling Slytherin girl snarled, folding her arms over her chest.

Some students sitting cross legged on the stone floor in front of her looked up, an empty expression on their tired faces. The eagle knocker on the wooden door stared back, despite not blinking once. The entire fifth floor was in disarray, and no authority seemed to be around to navigate the lost Serpents back to the dungeons. The Ravenclaws were used to this scene, and certainly were not about to disrupt their routine for anyone.

“Why are you even going up there at this hour, Goyle? Class doesn’t start till midnight,” someone standing pointed out teasingly.

“None of your business,” she shot back, and stuck her button nose high up in the air in arrogance. “Anything,” she answered the knob, “we’re wizards.”

A disapproving murmur rose amongst the rest of the crowd, but Penelope Goyle ignored it all, stubbornly looking at the door that wouldn’t open. After a heartbeat, she stomped her foot and grabbed the hand of the Slytherin next to her, rushing down the stairwell before it moved again. A small win for some.

“Damn Ravenclaw riddles!” She yelled in frustration, and her voice echoed throughout the spiral staircase.

It was a strange thing, though, how no one seemed to know the answer to the knocker’s question. The portraits started placing bets after a point, talking about how ‘it may as well be the hardest riddle in a decade!’ and ‘back in our day wizards were infinitely smarter.’ Kevin Chang, son of Cho Chang, had sharply turned around and glared at that particular jab.

“Back in your day, you also started wars for no apparent reason,” he had snapped at the old man with the feather hat.

“Tell him, Chang!” Changbin’s loud tone boomed coming up the Grand Stairwell, followed by the Prefect Kim Seungmin, and Han Jisung, the former pushing through his two friends to see what the problem was.

“Where the hell have you been?” Orpheus Lovegood asked, getting up from the cold stone and dusting his robes. “Matter of fact, where’s Alphard?” Referring to the Head Boy currently missing.

Everyone looked around as if in a trance, realizing that the Head of their House was, indeed, not present. Seungmin sighed, muttering something about the Heads having a meeting with McGonagall. Orpheus groaned and slumped back down, rubbing his face, exasperated.

“What are you staring at?” Changbin snapped at his mortal enemy; the painting from 1847, Abraxas Rivertower, the last of his name.

“Here we fucking go again…” Jisung mumbled, clutching his broomstick tighter. “What’s the riddle?” He asked a Third-Year that was leaning against the ancient railing, one step behind him.

“What disappears as soon as you say its—OH, NOT AGAIN.”

The stone shook and thundered before moving slowly to the left, along with the kid, and four other students. Seungmin shook his head, and the Gryffindor chuckled. Jisung blinked.

“Rookie mistake,” Changbin shrugged, and turned back to the portrait. “I’ll say this one time and one time only, old man—Bang Chan is the best captain Hogwarts has had since Edgar Cloggs. Your generation did nothing for Quidditch.”

“I’ll have you know, you insolent little—”

“As soon as you say what?” Jisung interrupts the bickering by shouting over to the Ravenclaw that’s currently on his way to the other side of the castle.

“Its name!” He shouts back, hands around his mouth.

The Gryffindors look up, trying to see where all the commotion is coming from, while Seungmin scolds his House for not waiting for him to leave the Great Hall. Kevin argues that he’d seen Alphard go ahead of them, and assumed he was leading the way. The Prefect hung his neck and shook his head in disappointment, soft, parted hair moving with him.

“This is why I should’ve clearly been Head Boy.”

“Silence,” the round-cheeked boy says after a moment, raising an eyebrow at the eagle knocker.

The wood gives way and the door opens at once, the sound of it deafening to the tens of hopeless students that had been waiting in front of it. Clapping erupts and then everyone’s getting up at once, pushing their way through to the Common Room, Jisung’s name on their lips.

“Our Chaser is the best, of course.” “Top of the class, after all.”

“Move carefully, we have no staircase people!” Seungmin reminds them, annoyed, and climbs over rock to have a clearer view of the crowd.

“Guess I’ll wait for my lift,” the Gryffindor jokes, resting against the wall next to the entrance. “Look at you, all red.”

Jisung pierces him with an irritated look, mentally willing his hair to go back to its chestnut brown color. Having grown up with him, the Metamorphmagus abilities surprised no one by that point, yet his friends never seemed to let the fact go, teasing him any chance they got. It was all in good fun, he was aware, and secretly he even liked the attention.

But, God, could his best mates get infuriating.

“Make sure you go straight to your dormitory,” Seungmin warns Changbin, and the latter raises two fingers, placing them over his heart, crooked smile in full effect.

“You know I’m all about those rules, Min.”

“Are you, now?” The Prefect deadpans, and enters the Common Room, leaving the other two boys to stand guard until the Third-Years return with the stairway.

After Gryffindor’s win last week, Ravenclaw was gearing up for a game against Slytherin, which meant extra practices after classes, and sometimes even Sundays. The Serpents were clearly a threat to all Houses, and for good reason. The team had an unbeatable record, not to mention fast fliers. Jisung wasn’t as into it as Chan or Changbin were, but he still enjoyed the workout, and the feeling of the wind hitting his face on his broom. No other thing like it, except perhaps the smell of an old book, or you on his lips.

Shut the fuck up, Han Jisung.

There was no one to tell the secret to, he had learned. Only the corners of the library, the shadows of the candelabras—the creases of the books used that day. And they were friendly things, those; well equipped to keep secrets, and wishes. Ancient, reliable ways to swallow your feelings forever and never speak a word to anyone. Sometimes, though, and that was not often at all, Jisung would catch you looking at him, and find it in himself possible to risk everything if it meant having you. But it all also just meant one more silly reason he joined the team, and always a disappointment as your eyes remained impossibly locked on the Gryffindor captain, and never at the soothsayer. Understandably so, he’s concluded countless times. It didn’t lessen the sting.

Who’d want a scary vision and a life altering prophecy over riches and glory? Jisung was bound to lead a solitary path—Seungmin had predicted it, after all.

“Don’t tell me…” Changbin starts, tone taunting. “Purple hair, wistful expression—thinking of your unrequited crush again?” His elbow meets the Ravenclaw’s side, and Jisung resists the urge to shoot back, to ask about the Gryffindor girl that had rejected him twice or that one Hufflepuff he kept meeting up at the Astronomy Tower every Friday, but alas. He wasn’t cruel, and he certainly didn’t need any more questions raised towards him.

Even if he desperately wanted someone else besides Seungmin to talk to, about you and the things he’d seen in his crystal ball that morning in Divination class. There were far more important matters to discuss besides feelings and unlucky crushes. When would a good time come around for them, though…

“I’m a very easy person to read, Bin,” he said, slapping his friend’s chest. “Come on, we can wait inside. For all we know the staircase could’ve lost its way again.”

The Gryffindor nodded, putting both hands on the Metamorphmagi’s shoulders. “A smart fucking Raven you are, my friend.”

The Raven fakes a smile, and closes the door behind him. The Common Room has fallen into its usual half filled quiet study time, under the supervision of Kim Seungmin, who grimaces at the two of them entering without the rest.

“Too smart,” Jisung repeats to himself. “Far too smart for your own good, Han Jisung.”

“Cartomancy is commonly used to predict the future, and/or warn against a potential enemy,” professor Trelawney said, summarizing today’s lesson.

“You are each tasked to choose three cards out of the decks in front of you, my children. Three cards that are going to show you a truth. Go on, then!”

The tarot cards in front of Seungmin were faded, hand-drawn pieces of work that had been in desperate need of a replacement for some time now. He had half a mind to switch them out with his, but for the sake of this class to succeed and go according to the room’s energy, they simply had to do. Jisung on the other hand—the older boy looked to be under some kind of spell, a highly ordinary occurrence as it happened frequently when he was in the middle of a reading, but what wasn’t the least bit normal—the white tint over his orbs, the buzzing of the cards under his fingers.

The professor seemed to notice it as he did, nearing their table immediately and studying the Ravenclaw intently. The rest of the room was quiet, waiting for something kooky to happen, as it always did when Divination was in session. Seungmin was not impressed, he was concerned. Jisung had numerous visions nowadays, and fell ‘asleep’ even worse during readings. Trelawney thought he was just awakening as a mystic, but it was an entirely different thing the Raven was fighting…

“What do you see, boy?” The peculiar professor asked softly, holding her breath.

Hands moving, the boy in question pulled the three cards at once, never looking down at them. Instead, he stared straight ahead and through his friend. Seungmin sighed and made his own choices, flipping to see what they were.

“How’d you do that?” Orpheus asked him incredulously, sitting right above them.

Trelawney gasped, clutching at her chest. Everyone leaned in to get a closer look, the same surprise bleeding on their faces. Impossible, they all thought.

The Tower, Ten of Swords, Death.

On both decks.

“Disaster in the darkest hour. It has not happened yet—the Death is last,” Jisung wakes up with an abrupt shake, eyes widening before glancing down. “Twice over?” He questions, and looks to the professor for an explanation he cannot seem to find.

She’s shivering all over in her old age, backing away from the ominous duo. Seungmin gathers his things, sensing the class will be over sooner than expected. He tries to deny what just happened, but knows it’s bigger than him, bigger than Jisung himself, and will no doubt reach McGonagall and the rest of the teachers in no time. It’s a calamity, a warning. For time’s lived again and again.

“Dark times are upon us once more, my children,” she confirms the fear. “Stay behind, young mystics. The rest—dismissed! Someone please summon the Headmistress for me.”

It was the first time the class dispersed in such silence, Jisung had never seen it before. As if a gray cloud had settled over everyone, they moved in harmony and exited the room at once, leaving the two dorm mates alone with the professor. The red of the tablecloth hung heavy and deep underneath the weight of the cards. Seungmin wanted it to be a false draw, an error. Things would be simpler then, everything back to normal.

This is too much of a responsibility to hold, even for him.

Trelawney picks a fourth card, throws it on top of the others with an ease only natural to someone who’s been doing this for a very, very long time. Her fingers tremble as she passes her hand over the result.

Five of Cups. Card of change.

“One will be on each opposing side, both burdened by a decision,” she muses. “It won’t be you,” she looks at the Ravenclaws. “Though, you will be the eyes into the future.”

Seungmin maniacally chuckles, unable to hold himself back, while Jisung is getting crushed under the weight of what he’d just predicted.

“Are you seriously telling us there’s going to be another war?”

“Not me, no. The cards, dear boy.”

Seungmin blinks. “The cards can change.”

“But they can never lie,” the professor reminds sadly. “Even if the reading alters, the cards still have to be played out. It’s what I warned Albus about all those years ago…” she pins them down with a haunted look. “Before he died, I kept drawing a Tower moment. It ended up being a literal reading, and the loss was immense.”

“Professor, who has to make a decision?” Jisung asks seriously.

She looks at her student soberly, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “They will show themselves to you. You must guide them as you will know how.”

“You couldn’t have drawn a Wheel of Fortune, Han. It had to be Death,” Seungmin mutters, arms folded over his chest, robes perfectly pressed. “Typical.”

Minerva McGonagall enters the threshold in a hurry, cloak flowing in tumultuous waves, tight bun on the top of her head, looking exactly as they met her, six years ago. Timeless. The Minister of Magic stood next to her, her name powerful, important. Historic.

Hermione Granger stared at the two Ravenclaws in wonder.

Jisung glanced at Seungmin nervously, the latter’s eyes going fully round in surprise. They both couldn’t believe the legendary witch stood before them, eager to hear about their bad news concerning another war against the dark and corrupted. It was not a good look, they grimly thought. But it was, unfortunately, a true one.

“I was instructed to inform the Ministry should any talk of a prognostication like this come up,” the headmistress said. “Well?”

“It is merely an augury, though I’m sure a prophecy will not be too far behind…”

November shed all its leaves and greenery in exchange for snow. All mountain sides were covered with it, and the castle was too. Dusted and thick, it canceled a much-needed Quidditch practice, but instead gave an extra reason to haul students in the library and have them revise for the upcoming exams.

The Black Lake was at last entirely frozen, an exquisite view from the Ravenclaw Common Room. Kevin and Seungmin stood by the window, discussing the Astronomy group assignment, while Jisung got ready for yours and his study date, a tradition dating back since Fourth Year, the time his crush graduated from a tiny spark to a full blown forest fire. One sided, of course. Completely fine, that was. He’d made his peace with it already. Except for some nights, when the wound hurt too greatly, his heart beating too fast for someone that would never hear it. Still, he refused, he refused, he refused—

“Swear to me no one will learn about this,” Seungmin had made him promise. “Not a word to anybody.”

“I swear,” Jisung had agreed on it, his bones rattling with the importance of keeping something of this magnitude to himself. “I swear.”

But if something were to change, Jisung had decided; if he had a new vision on the next full moon, and it proved to be urgent… he’d tell Bang Chan. The Gryffindor needed to know, and possessed all the determination in the world to lead them to battle. A proper heads up would prove to be crucial, and he didn’t care what Seungmin or McGonagall said. Certain decisions were in order, and the Raven always felt the most qualified to make them. Seungmin was the moral of the two, but Jisung would do whatever needed to be done. The life of a mystic, perhaps.

Those were waters untested, still.

Saturdays were a fuzzy dream in the castle, coated with sticky snow and a breakfast, and lunch fit for kings. The Great Hall was always somehow so very questionably warm, and the corridors so bitterly cold, but it did not matter. The tea cakes melted in your mouth, and the quill ink never ran dry. By the time the clock sounded five in the evening, Jisung had spotted you waiting for him, an ‘Advanced Rune Translation’ volume in your hand, hair pulled away from your face, a knitted sweater and corduroy pants adorning your body.

“Kind of you to show,” he teases you, turning at once for the library.

You giggle, and nudge his arm. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

His eyes flutter shut for a single moment, the sound of your laugh too precious, too rare to go unnoticed. He wonders how it feels to live in the same space as you, hear you speak and feel your hands freely, instead of the borrowed time he has with you, the time that’s already being wasted just by walking. It is why he joined the team, the very reason why he took Ancient Runes when they have very little to do with what he’s interested in. To see you. To spend as much time with you as possible.

Him and his stupid heart, wishing and wanting without end, pointlessly. Until you break it, once and for all.

“Heard the Minister of Magic was here the other day,” you mention conversationally, waving back at random students Jisung does not know the names of. “Wonder why.”

Should he tell you? He’s lost sleep over this question. It is no sort of secret you’re one of the most important people in his life, and you deserve to know, to keep yourself safe. But to be aware of something like this prematurely, without absolute certainty of its chances of happening…he couldn’t risk that. For all he knows, the cards were picking up past energies of times passed.

How good has he taught himself to pretend ruin isn’t upon them because he predicted it.

“There’s a full moon this Thursday,” he changes the subject. “My magic is stronger then, so if you need anything solved or cleared up…”

“My Charms exams maybe,” you walk closer to him, a pleasant expression on your pretty face. “Minho mentioned you did a reading for Hyunjin last month.”

Jisung gave you a questioning look, slowing down his step. You seemed to regret letting that slip, but there was no way he was going to let that go now. Minho with you? Why?

“Wasn’t aware you two were friends.”

“We’re not,” you retort easily. “We’re working on a potion together.”

Again, he measures you with a suspicious glance. “And Chan knows about this?”

You frown, and that’s answer enough. Still, you continue, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

You take the left turn to the corridor, and your arm wraps around his bicep absentmindedly, the Hufflepuff Head Girl exiting the library wondering about your proximity, sneaky eyes following your movements closely. Nearly everyone had learned the news about the princess of Gryffindor and its House’s favorite captain. It was kind of hard to miss when Chan would follow you around everywhere, like some sort of nervous puppy and its owner.

Nauseating, Seungmin had called it. For Jisung it was just tough to swallow.

“What was the reading about, Ji?” You drop your voice as you settle into a spot in between the two bookshelves.

Your study mentor busies himself with selecting the books needed for this session, avoiding your eyes. You smile as you notice the shade of his hair turning a ginger shade, and you wait for the familiar roll of his shoulders to speak again. Learning to figure out the Raven had proved to be a challenge all in itself. A fun one, nonetheless.

“It can’t have been good. His friend is planning to raise the dead.”

Jisung almost gets whiplash from how fast he spins his head your way. You smirk, crossing your legs at the ankles, and lean against the desk behind you. Neither of you break eye contact.

“What are you saying?” He asks quietly, and his voice sounds strange. Like how it does when he’s amongst tarot cards and crystal balls. Careful not to disrupt the magic.

You insist. “I’m saying I know a little more than you do for once, Han. What was the reading about?”

With a tall pile of books following him, the Ravenclaw walks to your usual spot by the furthest window away from Irma Pince, the ‘book keeper from Hell’ as you called her, and throws a leg over the wooden table, expression solemn.

“He’s been having dreams. Are you even acquainted with Hwang? Why the sudden interest?”

Your eyes shine as you sit down in front of him, opening your book to the appropriate page. The bookshelves stretch endless on each side of you, the rest of the students throwing you sharp glances, visibly fed up with your chit-chat.

“Never talked to him,” you say proudly, and Jisung is pretty sure you’re messing with him.

“I say this because I’m your friend, (Y/N), but—some things are meant to stay hidden.”

The two of you fell into your almost religious silence quickly enough, working together but separately, breaking concentration only when a question arose. Jisung was a natural in translating ancient passages into modern English, and you were not far behind, though your struggle lay on deciphering the runes themselves. It is where the differences between your Houses lay—he took a direct approach to puzzles, treating them as things with answers instead of questions, while you just couldn’t get past your ignorance. Perhaps it was your muggle background that prevented you from truly excelling; the fact that Jisung simply knew about these symbols, while you had to rewire your entire brain to even fathom they could possibly mean something.

He always took his time with you, teaching you patiently and thoroughly, his fingers tracing the runes on paper like he’d written them himself, eons ago—like friends meeting again, or at least that’s what it seemed like to you. Jisung, you’d decided a couple years ago, could not be figured out, not in the slightest. Most likely it was a Ravenclaw feature; to constantly be slipping into reverie, with no firm grasp on reality. Maybe he was never meant to fully be corporeal, to make sense—he’d always been the kid with the book, the odd one out for being able to look into a crystal ball and see more than just glass. Clairvoyance is a gift, he’d explained to you once, if one is willing to admit the future is beyond their grasp. That perhaps, all there should be is not all there is.

A lot of the time, you didn’t understand him. Not entirely. None but three classmates of yours in this whole school possessed the abilities Han Jisung had, and he was one of them, Seungmin being the other one, and Lee Felix from Hufflepuff the biggest question mark of them all. Someone that shouldn’t, yet is. The Raven took him under his wing immediately, offering everything there was to know, and watching it take form, transform into something more, something different than what he had. But nevermind that—it was a story for another time.

Your eyes followed him; the way his full lips fell open, the voice coming out soft and kind, the round cheeks and the round glasses, and the round eyes. He was just so…circular, so untouched by sharpness. Some time ago you’d taken a leap and kissed him, just to see how it felt holding the secrets of the universe inside you. Turns out they taste like blueberries, and feel like standing on the Astronomy Tower at midnight, looking up at the starry sky through a telescope, all impossible, and grounding, and transcending at the same time. You could never be with someone like Jisung, you would only hold him back.

There was no magic for you like there was for him. Books are all you could possibly share or have in common. Yet, it never left your mind, the moment of contact… Secrets knew how to conceal themselves in a library. So they did. You, on the other hand. Where was a place for you to hide, to exist through runes and charms and potions? If he could do it—if he could touch decades old cards, and sit on the highest tower on a full moon with his eyes closed and his palms open, and have the answers come to him, where would be a way to cheat your heart, the very atoms that make you, and finally find some peace for yourself?

“You know, I feel you slipping away,” he tells you very stilly, cocking an eyebrow and turning his face slightly to look at you. “If you’re bored then, by all means, put me out of my misery here.”

You can’t look away or pull back, so you stare. You smile, and you wonder if he, perhaps, is also a Legilimens. If you’re meant to collect them all and have them know you inside out as you’re losing your way more obviously with each passing day. If you can hear me, tell me what I should do.

Jisung just smiles back, holds his breath. Secrets have a way of outing themselves cold. Sometimes you’re expecting them warmly, arms open wide. Sometimes they kick you in the face and call you a hypocrite. Which one is it, then?

“You? Miserable with thousands of books around? Please. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?”

Your back hits the chair, and you exhale a breathy laugh. “Maybe. Continue.”

He closes the thick book, and takes off his reading spectacles. His hair is red, and his cheeks are flushed. Your Raven is a difficult person to figure out, yes, but he’s the easiest to read. You think of Chan and how he’d react knowing you’re very actively thinking about kissing your mutual friend again. You think that because it’s clear he is. Perhaps he always has.

What you don’t notice are his closed fists. The way he wants.

“You’re asking me to do something,” he states, and it’s unfair, you know. “I won’t. I can’t.”

You don’t even blink. “No one thing is carved in stone. You told me that.”

“I didn’t mean this.”

“And yet this is no different,” you argue calmly. “It’s been going on for a long time, hasn’t it?”

He caves, or crumbles, and his back curves, his elbows touch his knees. He’s contemplating, and the universe is moving with him. It feels so much more than what it is, and for some reason you sense that it is not simple, it is not light. It will not be easy with Han Jisung, not like how it is with Chan. And maybe it will happen all the same, and there will not be a single fucking thing you’ll able to do about it.

You ask yourself when it changed. When did runes become decisions, and books holes to hide unspeakable truths? Was it when you neared your captain with the Golden Snitch, and he couldn’t look away from the gold? Or was it when he ran after you the first time but not the second one? Decisions accumulate, you conclude. They do, and they mean everything.

“Ever since I met you,” the Metamorphmagi replies, hands in front of him, an unconscious plea. By the time he closes his mouth, the strands on his head have turned black, and it is then that you realize this is bigger than you. It always is.

Because he’s not playing the game anymore, either.

It is amidst dusty books and claustrophobic library aisles that he takes your wrist and gives a wave for everything to go back into place. Non verbal magic is extremely difficult to get right, but there he was, a place he knew so intently bending to him, to his will, and he didn’t even have to mutter a single word. You recognize nothing in this Jisung—he’s not your friend, and he’s not the person that helps you study. He’s a mystic, a soothsayer with abilities beyond your understanding, and a wizard capable of far more than most his age. And all of this he achieved quietly, without fuss. While everyone else was too busy showing off.

Irma nods at the both of you as you speed walk out of the area, and into the cold, torch lit corridors of the first floor of the castle. The collar of his white button up is crooked over his sweater vest, but you swallow and say nothing because there’s raw intent in the way your hand is clasped in his. How his fingers crawled down the delicate skin to find your own, the warmth of touch closing around your digits. He has never done this before. You do not know how to come back from it.

Under stone and into the shadows is where he pushes you against rough wall and takes your mouth in his. A statue of someone important and dead towers over the both of you, but then your eyes fall closed and you can’t think of nothing but Jisung, Jisung, Han Jisung and his clean scent, his hands roaming your body, holding your face, pushing your hair back—

You move forward and press your chest to his, your arms around his broad shoulders, feeling the muscle of his back. It doesn’t register, or more like it can’t possibly—that you’re really doing this, while Chan is back in the dorms completely oblivious, thinking you’re transcribing runes next to the one person that can get you to focus. Something important is now tainted forever thanks to your inability to make up your mind. Your heart.

“Don’t you dare slip away from me now,” Jisung mutters fervently against your lips. “There’s nothing to do about what’s already been done.”

Fingers get lost in your trousers, inside your panties, curling upwards, pushing in, and you gasp, the feeling forbidden, overwhelming in its intensity. The boy all over you fucks you with an objective set in mind—to have you come all over his hand, to smell you on him every time he goes to sleep, to think back on this and have something to remember you by, something concrete, unnerving, more than a kiss, less than a conjoining of bodies. He will have it. No matter what.

“I‘ve waited for so long…watched you from afar, unable to have you like this…wanted you in all ways, your scent, your mouth, your cunt…will you understand, darling? Could you ever?”

He’s breathing hard, and you can’t really see him, but you think you can make out a sliver of midnight blue above his eyebrow, dark eyes flaring against the tiny bit of fire light that’s reaching in between the curves of the statue. Red for embarrassment, orange for nervousness, purple for love, blue for—

Blue was for—sadness. Your brows furrow as you further study his face, your eyes getting used to the dark. A surrendered expression stares back; given up eyes, and a pained smile. You can’t explain what’s stirring inside you, only that you’ve somehow hurt him, your friend, your sweet, sweet Raven. Because you don’t know what you’re looking for, while he’s been so sure from the get go. And now you ruined it.

Blue is sad because it knew all along.

“I could turn into him,” he whispers, and it’s not proud. It’s a shameful, quiet thing that escapes his mouth all at once and leaves a big hole in the middle of your chest. “If that will make me have you. I could turn into anyone you want.”

Your hands immediately cradle his face, and he leans into your touch, leans into you like a flower under the sun. Jisung blooms and opens, and it’s beautiful, it’s a lovely rarity to see. It’s all for you, and you’re being awful, leading him on in his vulnerability. You’re awful.

His hands undo your pants, while his digits move faster inside you. You’re terrified of moaning, of informing anyone of what you’re doing. Your senses are on overdrive, your moral compass seemingly cracking every time Jisung hits a spot that has you seeing stars, and his mouth devours yours like a starved man, a man that knows he only has one chance at this. He makes it count.

You convince yourself this is closure. This needs to happen so he can move on. It’s imperative that it does. Your lips go to his forehead, then his eyelids, his cheek, his nose, and finally his lips. You don’t dare actually kiss him again, you won’t be the first, but you linger, a ghost of a breath away, hoping the illusion will be enough.

“I would never ask that of you,” you tell him. “Never. You are one of a kind, Ji. I want you because it’s you. I just wish you would’ve gotten to me first.”

His eyes are still closed, taking your words in, his lips pressed together like it hurts to even hear such things come out your mouth, and maybe they do; maybe he’s regretted that most of all, these years he’s watched you from afar with his friend. That you would’ve ever accepted him is news to him. He almost doesn’t want to believe it, if the truth of it wasn’t stitching his very existence back together.

When you come, it’s an absolution that spreads across your chest, warm as a summer day, cold as panic. He holds you anyway. He holds you and makes sure your dignity, at least, stays intact. He never meant for this to happen, but chaos is a ladder, and he’s decided to climb it. See where it takes him.

He knows he needs to step away from you now. Right the wrong. But Merlin’s beard, he can’t fucking seem to know how to.

“Let me see you hear it, just once,” you see him draw a shaky breath in, his courage inhaled, at the tip of his tongue, “I love you, darling. I always have. If you come to me tomorrow or in ten years, I’ll be right here. I’ll fucking wait for you, I swear.”

“Please, Jisung. How can I—”

“Moving,” he hears a familiar venomous voice behind him. His jaw clenches, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “As it stands, (Y/N), this is the second man I see you with. Is there some sort of way to sign up for this apparent club you have going on?” A pause, as Jisung turns around to glare at the figure studying the both of you. “Consider me interested, sweetheart.”

Lee Minho stood amidst the dark in all his height and expensive clothing, obviously amused and tantalized with his own comment. The deep plum of his hair glittered under the faint light, and his big eyes sparkled with mischief.

You hadn’t seen him in a few days, after the two of you spent most of Tuesday afternoon gathering the ingredients for your joint potion. He had told you to go back to your dormitory as soon as everything was put together and ready to go, and it had left a very bad taste in your mouth. So, you’d decided to ignore him. After all, he was the one needing your help.

“What do you want, Minho?” Your Raven had turned feathery black all over, clearly irritated by the interruption. “You better have a reason for this.”

Minho tilted his head in question, obviously patronizing the Ravenclaw. “You mean walking to the library? Han, you’re out in the open,” he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his gaze sliding to you.

“Stop that,” you warn him, and you try to guard your mind as best as you can. “I’ve never given you permission to do that.”

Jisung squints his eyes at the two of you, visibly confused at first, though it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. By then, Minho was chuckling in naughty delight, twirling his wand between his fingers.

It happens fast—the Metamorphmagi’s lips move and the wand goes flying right out of the Serpent’s hands. You slip from behind your friend and put yourself in the middle of them, hoping that’ll be enough to stop a serious altercation from happening. There was no reason to have points revoked for petty silliness.

“Powerful, our soothsayer, isn’t he?” The Slytherin comments, and brings his wand back the same way it was taken away. “Pity I’m better.”

“Seriously debatable,” Jisung deadpans, and you grab his sleeve, giving it a slight tug. He falls silent, those expressive eyes thundering to come to your defense.

“Leave the witty remarks for your Prefect, Han. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Why?”

Minho looks at you again. You sense you’re not supposed to hear what’s about to come next, but Jisung doesn’t bat an eye to it, making you want to stand your ground. I’m already part of this, you think in hopes the pureblood will hear it.

He does.

“The Minister came to the castle. You must’ve had something for her.”

“And what’s it to you?”

Minho audibly sighs, growing annoyed with the hostility. Just then, two Hufflepuffs cross behind him, whispering to themselves about the scene playing out in front of them. You panic, thinking they saw your hold on Jisung, and your hand immediately drops.

You regret it as soon as you do it. The Ravenclaw shudders, his eyelids fluttering, but he says nothing.

“I’m being very nice right now, Jisung. You can choose to tell me or I can do it my way.”

“Muffliato,” you quickly cast, encasing the three of you in a makeshift privacy bubble. The boys look at you. “What? Someone had to do it.”

Minho ignores that. “You’re aware my father works at the Ministry.”

The Raven folds his arms, leans against the wall. “The redemption arc, yes. We’ve heard it a thousand times. One too many Death Eaters parading around free, if you ask me.”

If Minho took offense in that, you’ll never know. His expression betrayed little, his stance remaining the same since he snuck up on you. “Not for long,” he states, tone devoid of emotion. “They’re planning an upheaval.”

Just then, the muffling incantation is disrupted, one Kim Seungmin looking absolutely shaken in his brown leather jacket and boots. He looked like he’d just come from somewhere, you conclude. His hair was wind-ruffled, his cheeks rosy.

“We need to take this behind closed doors,” he says, and Jisung is the first to catch the urgent tone in his voice. “Come with me. Now.”

The Room of Requirement materialized only when a person was in dire need of it.

Seungmin had to walk past it three times before the entrance could show itself. You’d never been at that part of the castle, all the way to the seventh floor, and you’d certainly never witnessed the tapestry opposite the hidden spot—Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls how to dance ballet. How ridiculous. So peculiar, indeed, that only a wizard would have gone through it or dreamt it up. The magical world terrified you and befuddled you at the same time. Wonders at every corner. You would never truly get the hang of it, no matter how hard you tried, and you’d have to live with that.

But this room. It was nothing but an empty classroom with a single window, or at least that’s what it appeared to be. An untraceable place that not many people knew of—sounded like a disaster waiting to happen to you. The Slytherin was the first to break the silence, while Seungmin gave your shoulder a squeeze in greeting.

“Mind telling us why we’re here?”

Something passed between the two Ravenclaws, something you and Minho missed entirely. You merely understood it to be mystic work, an ability far beyond anything you had to offer.

The Prefect took a deep breath, gathering his slipping wits about him. “There was an attack on the Wizengamot two hours ago.”

Jisung looked at Minho who looked at Seungmin like the boy just confirmed an appointment with him. Indifferent, with those characteristic undertones of his that you still haven’t managed to figure out. Not one. This was serious. Connecting it to what the Slytherin told you earlier, it seemed to check out, because—

There hadn’t been any attacks…anywhere, really, since the late nineties. At least not confirmed ones, and it was then that the news clicked in you, the gears in your brain crossing from one dot to the other. Chan needed to hear this. He needed to know. But above all, you had to gather more information. Jisung seemed to think the same thing.

“Was anyone hurt?”

A faint shake of brown hair. “They mostly targeted the building itself. But the Senior Undersecretary…”

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho moved closer to the window, his focus moving with him.

“The— Wait, what?” Jisung did a double take on his friend, the words registering in his ears.

“What about her?” you ask.

There’s low muttering and then a Patronus Charm is casted, an Adder slithering its way across air, waiting to be directed. Minho whispers to it, and sends it off with his wand, its blue smoke figure passing through the glass effortlessly. One second you see magic being conjured, the next Jisung has his own unicorn core pointed at the Serpent’s neck, gaze vicious, suspecting.

“What did you do?” he asks him roughly.

You reach a hand out to rest it on his shoulder, but he’s rigid, ice cold. There’s no getting through to him at all. And for good reason, you think. But what if we weren’t always so mistrustful? What then?

“That’s his mother, is it not?” Minho asks but it’s rhetorical. The question already has an answer.

“And?”

“Hyunjin’s father is Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If the Minister’s Undersecretary was attacked,” he paused and blinked pointedly, “don’t you think it was an inside job?”

“Jisung…” you spoke softly. The boy clenched his jaw, but dubiously pulled back, lowering his wand.

“I warned him,” the Slytherin looked at all of you. “That it’s began.”

“You knew?” Seungmin asks, perplexed. Offended. “You knew and said nothing?”

Minho fixed his emerald blazer, eyes flashing. It was obvious he was reaching his limit with this interaction. He humored the Ravenclaw anyway. “I know fuck all, Prefect. I’m preparing myself for every outcome, as should all of you. You think they’re going to stop there? What a foolish assumption, if so.”

“Your father is an Unspeakable. Excuse me if I have a hard time believing anything that comes out of your mouth right now, Lee,” Jisung snapped, staring hard at the green board on the wall opposite him. “What about the Minister? Surely she’s not been Imperiused?” he caustically drawls.

“Wouldn’t you expect an ex-war heroine to be at least a little bit watchful over her employees?”

The room switched in a flash. Desks went flying, but none of you visibly moved an inch; instead books and telescopes occupied the space around you, the sound of them hitting the ground nonexistent. Peculiar clocks, astral maps, constellation globes and a humongous hourglass the size of a grizzly bear stared back at you, the sand slowly flowing to the bottom bulb, an ominous warning. It was in that moment that Jisung’s body tensed up next to you, his eyes going wide then glazing over, a thin strip of haze frosting them in place. Your heart jumped, and you grabbed his hand, until you remembered there was no way of bringing him back.

No way of waking him up until the vision was over.

“The room is trying to tell us something,” Seungmin said, flipping through the numerous books. He looked frantic, quavering. “A prophecy…she was waiting for a prophecy.”

“Well, he’s working on that, isn’t he?” Minho points at the Raven, currently a thousand worlds away. A typical occurrence.

You never once drop your friend’s hand, but your brain is already working on possible scenarios. One thing burned in your chest, though, like liquid fire—whatever this was, whatever it would become… Everyone close to you would be involved, because everyone was tied to the people responsible in some way or the other. Jisung to Seungmin, Minho and Hyunjin and their Ministry fathers, Felix and Changbin… All purebloods had connections to higher ups in the wizarding world, years of positions of power being passed down from generation to generation.

“Why Wizengamot, though?” You ask, piecing the puzzle together.

“The place that condemned them. Sent them to Azkaban,” the Serpent folds a map down the middle, and looks at you simply. No patronizing glint or ironic raise of the brow. Just classmates speculating.

Funnily, you think you can get used to this.

“But Seungmin’s mother was still a student when the trials were held.”

The other Ravenclaw is too busy looking through star charts to join in the conversation, but Minho appears almost eager for this back and forth. Perhaps to provide answers for himself as well as the rest of you. Somehow, you think Chan and the others should be here as well. They deserve to know, to prepare themselves.

“They wanted to send a message, sweetheart,” the prune-haired boy nears you, lifts a strand of your hair and looks at it. You hold your breath—hold Jisung’s hand even tighter. His mouth curves, and he pierces you with those glittery brown eyes, a curse wrapped with a bow. You will your mind to close in on itself, just in case.

“The law is below them this time. They are the law.”

Jisung heaves a breath and shivers all over, coming back to the present or reality, you’re not sure which one came first. No one knows where he goes during his visions, nor do they know how long it’ll take for him to return. All they know is that if he has one, it’s important. Consequential. His fingers squeeze the side of your hand, and your attention turns to him, Minho glancing momentarily at the Soothsayer before taking a step back and going over to Seungmin, giving an absentminded spin to one of the globes.

“What is it, Ji?” you murmur, nuzzling your chin on his vest, worried, eager to learn about the unknown. You would never acquire this piece of magic by yourself, you would always have to rely on others for it.

Seungmin stopped what he was doing and looked up, sensing something you could not. Even Minho seemed to catch onto it, both his eyebrows disappearing under his bangs.

“A blood moon will rise over the one who has to make the choice,” he says stiffly, but his head shakes, like it doesn’t make much sense to him either. “He wears a black ring, he has a golden friend.”

The Slytherin chuckles but it’s not humorous. It’s not even mocking. It’s a dry, dark thing that fills you with fear. Something you don’t know. Again and again. Jisung softly untangles from your grasp, and looks around the room in a daze. He appears to understand why it’s the way it is, why the constellations are important. Ravenclaws and their moon magic, their mystic ways. It’s nothing but an alien concept to you, and it infuriates you to no end.

“We might have to brew that potion faster than I thought,” he says.

“What potion?” Seungmin asks, nose buried in another book.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“Min,” Jisung calls. His friend snaps his head up. “Golden friend. Cancer to the west, Virgo to the east—it’s the Leo constellation.”

“Oh, fuck me,” the Prefect groans. “The Sickle.”

You were entirely lost, embarrassingly confused. “What are you talking about?”

The Raven turned to you, a tired smile on his lips. “It means we have a question mark in our hands, darling. We don’t know who the ‘Golden friend’ is.”

“I do.”

You all look to the Serpent in the corner, a muggle cigarette in his mouth. He was staring directly at you.

“It’s Lee Felix, the Hufflepuff that possesses the Time Turner.”

Golden friend. Jisung is the first to scramble for the door, never forgetting to grab your hand as he goes to leave. Seungmin yells at him to slow down, and from the corner of your eye you see him putting his face in his hands, exasperated.

“If we leave now, we may never find these books again!”

“These books are not the answer, Seungmin,” Jisung retorts, turning the carved, bronze knob.

“Then why did they show themselves to us? I better stay behind.”

Your Raven rolls his eyes and shakes his head as you come back out the same way you went in, Minho following close behind. You look both ways, and then run down the corridor, down the stairs, time a mystery, only the mission in mind. Who’s friend? You kept repeating in your head. He wears a black ring. Your Gryffindor boys only wore silver jewelry. A hidden anxiety that lay heavy on your shoulders evaporated at once with that thought. It’s not them. And if not them, then who?

“Hard headed Ravenclaw…” he mutters, but you can tell books never held answers for him. Not to the questions that mattered.

“I know another one,” you say teasingly. “He has a death grip on my hand right now.”

His hold softens, an apologetic look flashing in his eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbles quickly. “That wasn’t what we’re looking for…” he admits, rushing down the stairs of the fourth floor.

“Jisung, slow down!” you say, and for the life of you, you can’t seem to catch your breath.

It’s Minho who catches you before you can fall flat on the staircase, the boy close behind you with his own thoughts, all three of you heading the same way. You glance at him only for a moment, before pulling yourself back to your feet, your fingers catching the Ravenclaw’s again. He’s staring right through you, though, to the purple of the Slytherin’s hair, and you’ve just about had enough with the secrecy.

“We need to tell Chan,” you assert. “We have to. And then we can find Felix. This is so much bigger than us,” you plead with the Metamorphmagi. “Please.”

“Don’t want to rush you, Raven, but we need that prophecy,” Minho says and you realize he’s been reading Jisung’s mind this entire time. “You know it as well as I do that without it we’re fucked.”

Just in time for dinner, the unlikely trio enters the Hall conversing in hushed tones, searching through the tables’ crowds to find the boys in question. Once again, your hand leaves the warmth of the person holding it as soon as you spot the soft curls and toned shoulders. Jisung smiles at you anyway, because this time it’s changed—you are partners in something far greater, bigger than life. You will stop a war from happening. You will fight together against the dark forces that are threatening your very freedom, just like your predecessors did all those years ago. You’ll do it better, even.

You had a plan.

He leans into you, his lips in your hair, and he whispers, “Think about me. Think about me like I think of you. All the time. Desperately.”

Then the Serpent says, “Meet me at the abandoned girls bathroom tomorrow, at four o’clock,” and he leaves, too. Goes to his Houses’ table, and sits down next to Hwang Hyunjin, the blonde busy sketching in the notebook in front of him, unaware of most things.

You glance back at your teammates and sigh. How to persuade them to listen…

“Look who the cat dragged in!” Changbin exclaims, patting the seat next to him. “Jake joined us tonight, hope you don’t mind.”

You waved at the younger Gryffindor, and stared at the empty plate in front of you. Then at the full table of delicious food that didn’t seem one bit appetizing at the moment. Not after what you’d learned. All you had to do was tell them about later tonight. After that, Jisung would take over. Somehow, a simple task like that was making your palms sweaty, and it mostly had to do with the fact that neither of your friends seemed particularly keen on fully believing in Divination. Even after witnessing what the Raven could do. Even after being proven wrong. Multiple times.

“Hey, so, guess what,” you start, but you’ve no idea how to go on after that. All three boys turn to you, Jake blushing and looking away quickly. “Party at the Ravenclaw Common Room tonight.”

Changbin furrows his eyebrows at you. “Jisung never mentioned anything.”

You chuckle nervously. “Yeah, it was sort of last minute…”

Chan knows you best of all, though. Your mirror, since you met him. He nods, though believes not one word of it. You think he looks especially beautiful, with his natural curls and black shirt. Like a sculpture or a Greek God or both. Definitely always holding gold in his hands, flying high in the sky, overlooking, coaching. When your eyes meet, he knows something happened. Something that regular ears cannot bear to hear. He reaches over the wood for your wrist, and his thumb traces the bracelet adorning it, the beads colors moving, like smoke encased. A birthday gift long ago. He can’t believe you still have it, that you still wear it. Sometimes he can’t believe you love him back, that, perhaps, you’ll love him forever.

He will. Until the end of time. No matter what.

“Minho was with you again,” he says, but keeps his tone neutral, not wanting another fight.

Though, it did lead to mindblowing sex.

You scoop some mashed potatoes on your plate, your cup filling up with apple cider as soon as you decide to eat, and you nod, avoiding his inquisitive gaze. Changbin passes you a couple dinner rolls unasked, and talks animatedly with Jungkook about Quidditch. You touch his forearm in thanks, and he smiles lopsidedly at you. It’s the innocent way you care about each other that fuels your impatience. The sooner they know the better they’ll be protected.

Despite wanting this, you can’t help but think that you like the way it feels to know a Ravenclaw secret that they don’t. Or a Han Jisung one, more like. It makes your heart flutter in a way you can’t ignore.

“What did you study today?”

“Ancient Runes,” you reply, chewing on bread. “It was a particularly tricky passage I had to transcribe today. Jisung was on top of me about it.”

The bells only rang inside your own head, but it felt like someone was pointing a flashing arrow above you, your guilt and the weight of what you did nearly crushing you to death. The same feeling of not being able to inhale enough oxygen burst through your lungs, just like that night when Gryffindor won, that suffocating song echoing in your ears. Still, you chastised yourself to sit through dinner, to pretend, and to be a good friend to the people you’ve known all your wizard years. It seemed as though, if you weren’t able to do even that much, the chain would break, the spell would lift.

You’d no longer be tied to Bang Chan or his reflection. And that scared you immensely—like not recognizing your own self. You eat more bread, and look at the long fingers playing with your bracelet. Without realizing, your eyes lock with the Raven’s, over your table, over Chan, and Alphard and Kevin Chang. You wonder how long he’s been looking, why your heart had been searching for him before your eyes did. Weird how a person can just…be there, all of a sudden, when before he was nowhere around. He will always keep happening to you now.

“It’s a good thing he’s around then, yeah?”

“Huh?” You zoom back to Chan’s face; his full lips, and sharp jaw. His carved features tug at your split heart.

His eyes are dark, watching you ruefully. “Perhaps a little too much,” he concludes, letting the bone of the chicken hit the plate loudly. Changbin turns at the sound, even amongst all the commotion.

It’s clear that the captain is getting angry. And it’s entirely directed at you. Like you’d ever be able to escape him. Like you can even try. He’s all mouth, then, rotten, saccharine, with sharp teeth and an even sharper instinct, cutting through you like a surgeon, opening up your passageways, inspecting the reasons you are not how you usually are, and if not, then why do you seem to stand lightyears away, when just this morning he held you in his arms? Had fucked you in his bed?

Someone was stealing you away. Over his dead fucking body.

“We should skip the party,” he suggests, but you know him, he’s declaring—for the both of you. “We have practice tomorrow anyway.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Change of plans,” he replies easily, serving himself some pudding. “We need it if we are to win against Slytherin.”

“This again…” you mutter under your breath, annoyed. “Do you ever just think people have other plans, Chan? Besides Quidditch?”

You don’t think you’ll ever forget how he looked at you then. Like a wounded puppy, like a soul sliced in half. You hated hurting him; it gutted him like no other, because it was you, because your words carried a different weight altogether. But he was being selfish and territorial, and he needed to stop. Stop demanding, stop assuming, stop deciding for you when you are perfectly capable of deciding for yourself.

Of course he’d never admit to it. Not in front of others, and especially not in front of his team. Changbin seemed uncomfortable listening to your conversation. He didn’t mean to—it was just impossible not to. His hand moved under the table, giving your knee a supportive squeeze. You squirm.

“Forgive me then,” he apologizes coldly, and the subject is dropped.

“Ravenclaw has the pitch tomorrow, man,” Changbin informs his captain. “They requested an emergency practice, since the game is around the corner.”

“Cool. Guess I have no say over anything anymore.”

You audibly sigh, piercing him with a strict glare. “You’re being dramatic.”

Chan wipes his mouth and laughs. It’s an uncontainable laugh, something that bubbled out of his throat maniacally, like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He avoided your eyes.

“Dramatic? Baby girl, it’s you who’s lying to me,” he gets up suddenly, and passes a leg over the bench, getting ready to leave. “Ravenclaws don’t have fucking parties. And my girl has certainly never smelled like pinewood before.”

By that point, almost the entire table had stopped talking, every student staring at the interaction between the Royal couple of Gryffindor. The title never suited you; you always felt the weight of it being next to the Quidditch captain, the heaviness laying on your chest at night, thoughts of having to keep the act together for a strong and unified House or even just a peaceful school experience. You’d figured early on, that if you were to go against Bang Chan’s plans and wishes, it would be more than merely you suffering.

Because no one goes against him. No one has ever attempted to.

“Hey,” Changbin snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. “What’s going on, almighty Seeker? Can’t figure yourself out of this one?”

Sensing people were still not minding their business, he did you a favor and scared them all off with a harsh bark of “Show’s over!” and a blazing scowl. You were never more glad to have Seo Changbin as a dear friend. He never failed to make you feel better. So many instances you can think of—he always came to the rescue, knowing just the right thing to say. A magician, but not the usual kind.

You shuffle closer to him, turning your head so your mouth is close to his ear. He leans in, curious, dark hair brushing the side of your face, brow raised. From the ceiling—snow. You watched as it fell on the student's shoulders and disappeared right away. Like it was never there.

“Jisung had a vision,” you start from the most familiar part.

Changbin almost groans, his head falling back, a disbelieving expression forming on his hard face. You squeeze his hand at once, willing, begging him to listen. And you’re not sure what it was; the serious tone of your voice or the way your eyes did not waver, not even a little bit, not even as he visibly faltered, refused to listen—

“You’re not telling me to cut it out,” he observes, baffled.

You softly shake your head, treading this subject carefully. “It’s crucial you believe me this time, Binnie.”

The beginning of the end. Your friend takes a deep breath, muscled shoulders rising and falling, and looks around before focusing on you, on what you had to say.

“Okay,” he said. His brown eyes turned dark. “I’m listening.”

As soon as Bang Chan exited the Hall, he regretted everything he said. But to go back? Admit his mistake? His ego would never let him, and he was aware of that. Perhaps he’d let a couple days go by, try to clear out his mind by flying or—he could write a letter to his mother, surely, she would have the answers, she’d guide him as she usually did…

Yes, that seemed like a solid idea. His chest deflated, his step bouncing, seemingly a weight lifting off of him—right as he was about to step on the stairwell to go to his Common Room, a certain Raven stopped him.

Not physically. By surprise.

“I thought you’d be at your table,” he remarked. “Where were you?”

Kim Seungmin stared at the Gryffindor dumbfounded. He wasn’t expecting to bump into him, and he definitely was in no state to explain or make a convincing enough excuse. Your words rang in his mind, and by the unassuming look Chan was sporting, he guessed Jisung still hadn’t told him.

“We’ve been busy,” he shrugged. “Look, there’s something you need to know. Something I found—I mean we, we found out today. It’s important.”

Chan nodded, assessing the disheveled state of his acquaintance. “Alright. What is it?”

The Ravenclaw hesitated, clearly overwhelmed himself with the discovery. He’d been informed his mother was in stable condition, that she’d be good to go come tomorrow. Even with this piece of information, Seungmin couldn’t stand still, couldn’t stop wondering. Why all this now? Why not years ago?

But he knew he couldn’t afford to think like that. A victim mindset got you nowhere with war games. He was to deal with this head on, like chess. Kill or be killed. But most of all—keep your wits about you.

The light near the Entrance flickered, like the entire castle was uneasy with the things unsaid. Seungmin didn’t doubt it whatsoever. An ancient castle has more than likely seen one too many battles, lost one too many parts of itself to cruel magic.

“There was a reading. A telling one. The Minister came and talked to us about it.”

Chan shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, strong arms folding over an equally sculpted chest. He was aware of this, everyone wouldn’t seem to stop talking about it the other day. But what about it?

“Did Han wrongly predict someone’s death again?” He asked humorously, but was greeted with a grim smile.

“It would’ve been preferred,” the Prefect agrees solemnly. “But no. He predicted a war instead.”

The captain’s eyes widened, a throaty chuckle considered answer enough. When the other boy didn’t laugh back, though, Chan got worried.

“Good one, Seungmin, yeah?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Oh, come on, man!” He tried again, this time more desperately. “It’s the twenty-first century. Wars are a thing of the past.”

The Ravenclaw nodded at that. He would’ve even agreed in the morning, before everything. But now—now was no time for doubt. For hesitation.

“I don’t suppose it will be a war with Giants and bloodshed, Chan. They’re infiltrating the Ministry. Once they take over, they’ll fight us with laws and regulations. I imagine the Death Eater clan will be freed, and their kids made pawns for their interests.”

It was too much, all at once. Chan had a plan, a premeditated life. National, then international. Captain of the Gryffindor team for now, then a Warrior. Holding the Cup, every single time, blood rushing through his veins, adrenaline getting him higher on his broomstick, crowds cheering, his team proud, proud, proud—

You. Next to him.

Not this. Certainly. For fuck’s sake.

“What are you fucking saying, Kim?” He rasped, too shocked to make sense of anything. Surely this was a mistake, a miscalculation, an error.

Chan had dreams, ambitions. He could leave this country right now and not have to deal with any of it. It would set him back—a whole fucking lot—to not graduate, to not bring one last cup to his House, but trials for the Wollogong Warriors started in six months, and if he trained consistently enough, perhaps he could—

But who was he kidding? Because of who he was, he’d have to stay. Fight. Protect. Changbin getting left behind, the Gryffindors, his team, you—he couldn’t afford that. He would never let it happen. Because it’s him, Bang Chan the King, the butterbeer pong extraordinaire, Hogwarts’ most valuable athlete, the one that would make it big, the guy everyone trusted, respected, counted on.

“Danger,” a familiar Ravenclaw voice behind him replied. “This means we’re in danger.”

tags. @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @streetlight-s, @koorminii, @j-0ne25, @hellishmoons, @lix-ables, @americanokisses, @danyxthirstae01, @she-wintersoldat, @fa3body, @seungschacco, @heeseung-lover686, @heetr, @arieslost, @skz317cb97, @moasworld, @hebii666, @rindomo, @imsuchasimp00, @woozarts, @taeriffic, @chanlovesme.

NO REPOSTING/STEALING. hwan-g™️

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