Life Was Never Worse, But Never Better (1/2)

[exolliarmus]

►username: anonymous
►prompt #: 68
►title: Life was never worse, but never better
►pairings: Chanyeol/Chen
►rating: PG-13
►word count: 31,951
►warnings: Mentions of death, slight torture, language, pre-series timeline, age gap (but both side legal) (typos ;_;)
►summary: After eight years of being a great auror, teaching a novice should have been Chanyeol's masterpiece. Should have, because Jongdae has a thing for fucking things up.
►author's notes: Please keep in mind that although I'm a huge fan of Harry Potter, I am nowhere near the perfect knowledge of the universe.
To my recipient, I fell in love with your prompt right away, and I really tried my best to offer you everything you wanted, and maybe a little more. It was so much fun for me to build this plotline, and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for your great prompt~
I'd like to think A, for her incredible support. This fic wouldn't be half as good without her, trust me. She'd probably say that I did all the work myself, but don't believe her. Her advice made me reach a whole new level, she's amazing. I also want to thank my soulmate, because she's my soulmate and holding my hand through everything I do is kind of her job, and damn, she does it so well.



“Hyung?”

Chanyeol sighs, a sigh so long it empties his lungs and leaves him breathless, white spots lighting up the edges of his vision. In the silence of the forest, his sigh sounds like an avalanche, and he knows he's not being very cautious there, but staying in control is hard when Kim Jongdae is following you around. And Kim Jongdae is following Chanyeol around.

“Hyung?” Jongdae says again, his voice still as bright as usual, and Chanyeol usually doesn't mind it –well not that much—but they're supposed to be hunting down some of Voldemort's minions, and Jongdae's voice, his presence—Jongdae's everything feels terribly out of place.

“I told you to call me Chanyeol already,” Chanyeol snaps back. He doesn't turn around though. He's afraid he'll end up jinxing Jongdae if he meets his probably smiling eyes. “I react faster to my name.”

“But you're so old,” Jongdae teases. “So you're hyung, and I'm Jongdae-yah.”

“Jongdae,” Chanyeol almost screams as he stops short in his tracks.

He hears Jongdae chuckle, and he sees red. He turns on his heels to glare at his partner, making sure to display his most ferocious look and feeling like a dragon out for a kill because of it, but Jongdae doesn't look the slightest bit afraid. Curious, at best. (And if Chanyeol is being honest, more like he's having too much fun.)

Jongdae raises a questionning eyebrow at him, and Chanyeol tries not to think about that prank curse he learned in Hogwarts' corridors that would completely shave Jongdae's eyebrows, because he's sick of seeing them go up on Jongdae's forehead and disappear behind the stupid tight curls Jongdae's sporting. It's not his self-control that stops him though, but the thought that it would only take Jongdae two minutes to grow them back, and Chanyeol isn't sure he can handle the disappointment.

He breathes in, a long inhalation, almost too much air for his lungs, because he wants to exhale another long and annoyed sigh, so maybe Jongdae will finally get how annoying he is.

“Jongdae,” he says again, trying to keep his voice calm and under control. “Call me Chanyeol, that's it. Tell yourself it's a direct order if it helps you, I don't care, just call me Chanyeol.” He's about to spin around but stops dead in his tracks. “And I'm only twenty nine. I'm not old.” He narrows his eyes at Jongdae's wider smile, and pretends he doesn't hear the ”eight years older than me is old” for the sake of his mental health. “And also, please shut up, we're on a mission, remember?”

Jongdae nods. “Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. How long are we supposed to walk through that forest?”

“I don't know. Until we find them.”

“I can make that happen sooner,” Jongdae singsongs, and Chanyeol's mind screams red alert.

“How?” he cautiously asks, because he's had enough of Jongdae's so-called shortcuts, but honestly, he'll take anything to leave that forest.

Jongdae doesn't answer. He raises his hand in the air, and Chanyeol watches in slow motion Jongdae's eyebrows slightly frown like they always do when Jongdae casts a spell. He knows it's a bad idea even before the tip of Jongdae's wand goes green, but only measures Jongdae's stupidity when green sparks spurt out of the latter's wand. Chanyeol grabs his wrist, pulling it violently down, but it's too late because not even a second after, he hears snaps all around them. The Death Eaters. They're apparating.

Chanyeol tackles Jondgae to the ground just as the first spell slices the air. He feels it grazing his hair, and a strong smell of burning fills his nose.

He hopes Jondgae survives that fight, because Chanyeol really, really wants to kill him with his own hands.






“I can't believe you—COME BACK HERE!”

Jongdae chuckles as he ducks and successfully avoids Chanyeol's hand. Chanyeol's legs are much longer, but in the meeting room where he can't really run, they're not helpful, and Jongdae, who's smaller and more agile, has the advantage. Chanyeol huffs out of anger as Jongdae quickly takes refuge on the other side of the long table with quick and almost dancing little steps.

“Junmyeon!” Chanyeol protests, glaring at his boss who's sitting on one of the chairs -and being totally unhelpful- but Junmyeon doesn't even look up from the papers in his hands. Chanyeol chasing after Jondgae isn't exactly a rare thing to see— which actually tells a lot about Jongdae, because he's been working in their office for a little over two months only.

“Why are you so angry though?” Jongdae grins at him from the other side of the table. “We caught them, didn't we?”

Chanyeol glares at him. “It was stupid. And dangerous.”

“Oh please,” Jongdae snorts. “We're so much stronger than them. It was a piece of cake.” His eyes scan Chanyeol's face, and Chanyeol hates how they suddenly light up. “Is it because they burnt your hair?”

Chanyeol groans. He grabs Junmyeon's water bottle and throws it at Jongdae who dodges it by plunging under the table.

“It's totally because they burnt your hair!” Jongdae exclaims from his hiding spot. “But you made it grow back, it's okay now!”

Chanyeol draws his wand, and aims at Jongdae's stupid poodle hair that sticks out.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon finally intervenes, his voice, although calm at first, stops Chanyeol dead in his tracks with the underlying threat hidden in the strong intonations.

Jongdae peeks above the table, his fingers clenched on the edge of the table for balance. He nods with a knowing look.

“Yes hyung, calm down.”

Chanyeol feels his nostrils flare, and this time Junmyeon isn't fast enough to stop him. He raises his hand, flicking his wrist middair, and throws the first spell that crosses his mind, the tip of his wand already directed at Jongdae's curls.

“Calvario!”

Chanyeol is fast, probably one of the fastest aurors in their office, but Jongdae is even quicker to react. He plunges under the table, and probably hits his head doing so because the table shakes against Chanyeol's thigh, and Jongdae's moan joins the sound of his spell crashing against the wall.

“Chanyeol, lower your wand. Immediately.”

Chanyeol glares at Junmyeon, but obliges right away. Junmyeon's fits of anger are even worse when they happen in the morning, and it's not even nine am. Chanyeol's usually the best at dodging his boss' random shots, but lately, Junmyeon's yells have been directed only at him, which makes his diversion talents way harder to put into practice. And the very cause of the mess that his life has become is now carefully emerging from under the table.

“Seriously hyung?” Jongdae whines. “A bald curse?”

Chanyeol bites his inner cheek to force himself to keep his mouth shut. He's already crossed the line, and Junmyeon's eyes are heavy on him. He really needs to work on his self-control, but he's never met someone like Jongdae, someone able to throw him off the edge so easily. Chanyeol used to be the best, the most efficient. He was admired, respected and even a tad bit dreaded, but then Jongdae barged into his life, and now people pat him on the shoulder, joke with him and come talk to him all the time. He used to be magnificent, but Jongdae, with his explosive good mood, his tendency to befriend everyone and his talent to make Chanyeol snap, has made him the idiot of the office.

“Jongdae, please, can you leave us for a few minutes?”

Jongdae nods, flashing Junmyeon a big smile, and Chanyeol's blood boils in his veins. The younger male doesn't even look worried or guilty. He could have had them both killed, but he's just going to step out of the room and have a great day, while Chanyeol will have to face Junmyeon's cold remonstrances. He really hates how Jongdae's presence has that power to bend the limits of other people's existence just so Jongdae can fit, and how it's making him lose his composure.

Junmyeon waits until Jongdae has closed the door behind him to turn back his face towards Chanyeol, but the ferocious flash Chanyeol was expecting in his boss' eyes isn't there. Instead, he reads what looks like weariness and despondency. His own frustration and anger fade immediately as he deflates. Junmyeon isn't only his boss, he's been his friend for years now, and Chanyeol knows how heavy the current times are on his friend's shoulder. Those are dark, dark times.

“You know we need to be discreet with magic here,” Junmyeon reminds him. He nods towards the chair across from him. “Sit down, please.”

Chanyeol obliges, straightening up against the back of the chair so his legs would fit under the table. Junmyeon's eyes are liquid blue today –they were emerald green the day before-- and they'll probably switch to another color the day after. Junmyeon hasn't been asked to direct their secret office only because he's a metamorphmagus, but coming ino the building as a beautiful woman in her forties, and going out as an old Scottish man surely helped him. Chanyeol has seen him fight off seven Death Eathers on his own though, so he'll never make the mistake to think that Junmyeon's strength only lies in his hair, golden and middle parted today, and dark brown and shorter the day before.

“Jongdae's right, you know,” Junmyeon starts. “You did catch the Death Eathers.”

“One of them escaped,” Chanyeol reminds his boss, but Junmyeon merely shrugs.

“You got three of them. It's impressive.”

“You're under his spell too,” Chanyeol pouts. He can't believe he'll be thirty in less than a year, and he's pouting. Kim Jongdae is a life ruiner.

Junmyeon raises his thick eyebrow at him, and Chanyeol crosses his arms on his chest.

“You're all under his spell,” he groans. He nods at the frameless glass walls behind Junmyeon, making the latter look over his shoulder only to find a smiling Jongdae, face scrunched up as he chuckles with Boah, one of the best aurors of the office. Junmyeon sighs and turns back to face Chanyeol.

“Even Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol continues. “I saw them laugh together the other day, can you imagine that? But none of you knows what it's like to work with him, he's a—he's a fucking psychopath, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon's expression turns into one of amusement, and Chanyeol is starting to feel like he's making a fool of himself, but if he has to act nuts to kick Jongdae out of his life, then so be it.

“You were the one who chose him, Chanyeol.”

“I know,” Chanyeol sighs. “He got Outstanding in all his N.E.W.Ts, and the best grades for his Auror training exams. His record sounded so promising.”

He slightly shakes his head, mostly for himself. He did question the current Head of the Auror Office about Jongdae, and got nothing but praises. Even Rufus Scrimgeour, one of the most influential aurors in the Ministry, although not known for his enthusiastic personality, almost got excited when Chanyeol contacted him. Chanyeol wanted the best of the best, and Jongdae seemed to match with his requirement, but things turned out a bit different from what he was expecting.

“He is promising,” Junmyeon corrects him. “You haven't failed a mission since you've been teamed up. His methods may be different, but they're obviously working. Honestly, he looks very talented to me.”

“He's a wacky flaky wacko,” Chanyeol snaps back.

Junmyeon snorts, but Chanyeol doesn't let go of his eyes, determined to show his boss how serious he is. Being an auror is already dangerous enough like that, with He-Who-Must-Not-Been-Named and his followers out to kill each one of Chanyeol's peers, he doesn't need someone like Jongdae, restless and imprudent, to get under his feet. He hasn't found out yet if it's self-conceit, or just sheer stupidity, but whatever Jongdae is trying to fulfill by running around and waving his wand at every Death Eather, Chanyeol won't be a part of it. If he keeps acting like that, Jongdae is going to get himself killed before completing his first year as an auror. Chanyeol has eight long years at his credit, eight years of war, eight years of fear and ruthless fights, and he hasn't survived because of different methods. The current times aren't suitable for experimentations.

Ironically, Chanyeol's eight years as an auror are the very first reason why he looked for an assistant, an auror he could train in the first place. Eight years, for a war that has been raging on for nine years already, is a a long time. The aurors he knows that have survived as long as him, or even longer, are so rare he could count them with his ten fingers. People are dying, everyday, and most of them aren't dark wizards and Voldemort's supporters. Chanyeol has enough faith to believe that the world can get back on its feet, that all the blood and the fear can be washed away, but he's not naive enough to think he'll be there to witness it. Twenty nine years old for an auror in the current world, when friends have daggers hidden in their sleeves, daggers the exact same size as the space between your ribs, is like standing with one feet in your grave already. Chanyeol has a legacy, and he wants to make sure people will still fight as hard as he does when he'll be cold and frozen, the remaining green light of the Avada Kedavra curse shining low in his eyes.

“Look, I'm not sure what you want me to say,” Junmyeon finally says. He looks so tired, Chanyeol notices, so pale. “But I can't fire Jongdae, or whatever you have in mind. He completed his training with honors, and he needs a mentor, at least until he can fight on his own. We can't send him back Chanyeol. We're at war.”

Junmyeon says the last few words like he would exhale a toxic lungful of air, dusty and with ashes whirling around the atoms of oxygen, but in all honesty, they all sound like they're running out of breath when they say them. Chanyeol still remembers the first few months of the Great Wizarding War, how people were so convinced it wouln't last and victory was near, except that nobody had planned Voldemort's cruelty, and now they're ten years later. Still fighting. Still at war.

“Take the day off, okay? You deserve it, anyway.”

Junmyeon's tone isn't harsh, but it's conclusive, final. Chanyeol knows better than to argue, but he still sighs just to make Junmyeon realise that all the days off in the world won't make him change his mind about Jongdae. He understands that all Junmyeon sees are the results, the Death Eaters now unable to cause any harm, but if it's a lesson his boss needs to learn, Chanyeol just hopes his life won't serve as a triggering factor.

He leaves the meeting room after bowing down to Junmyeon, and the closer he gets to the elevator, the more thrilled he actually feels about his day off. Almost twenty four hours without seeing Jongdae. Maybe he'll pop his last bottle of mead to celebrate, who knows?

But Chanyeol's good mood leaves him as fast as it filled him when he catches sight of Jongdae, just before the elevator's doors shut on him. The auror-in-training is sitting on Minseok's desk, sharing what looks like a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans' box with the older auror. He's chewing on his candy with a face somewhere between disgust and mirth, his eyebrows furrowed and the corners of his mouth curling on a smile too hard to restrain. His voice, loud and abrupt, fills up the elevator even as it starts moving down, and Chanyeol closes his eyes and breathes deep, pretending he doesn't see Jongdae's matching laughing face painted all over his eyelids.

They're at war, but Jongdae acts like he didn't get the memo, and maybe that's what annoys Chanyeol the most.






A few hours later, someone knocks on his door, and Chanyeol opens it to find a smiling Jongdae on his doormat, a bootle of sherry in his left hand, and his right fingers clenched around a firewhisky bottle. Jongdae may be restless, but he knows better than to barge into Chanyeol's apartment without any offering; and Chanyeol should know better but Jongdae looks so tempting, with his smile almost shy and his pleading eyes, that for a short second, Chanyeol forgets the stupid bouncy curls and Jongdae's tendency to be a pain in the ass. It's just a short second, but it's more than enough for him to step aside, and for Jongdae to come in. The next minute, Jongdae has already taken over the kitchen, pourred them some drinks and is now grumbling at Chanyeol's empty cupboards. He acts as if he's home, and Chanyeol would like to say that it's because he comes in three or four times a week, but Jongdae was already acting as if he owned the place the first time he showed up on Chanyeol's doormat.

They cook together, Jongdae chopping the vegetables, and Chanyeol adding the ingredients to the soup, and cooking the meat. When Jongdae's body goes right to the fridge –because ”I want more mushrooms, do you have some more?-- Chanyeol's body instinctively goes left, hips swaying just enough to avoid the bump. Jongdae lays the table, Chanyeol pours them another drink, and they eat together. Chanyeol in silence, Jongdae with his voice merging in with the cutlery's clinking, his eyebrows matching each one of his words, and his eye smile leaving his face only when he hums in delight. Chanyeol is usually the observant type, he never misses a hint or something that could lead him to dark wizards, but when it comes to Jongdae's habit of sharing his evenings with him, he pretends he doesn't see anything, doesn't notice how they look like they're so used to each other. He found out on the very first day that Jongdae's voice was the perfect sound to block every disturbing and unwelcome thoughts, anyway. So Jongdae speaks, and Chanyeol eats, listens.

And when the silence finally finds them, they're sitting on Chanyeol's balcony, both of Jongdae's bottles lying empty in the kitchen, and Chanyeol's last bottle of mead partly in the glasses they're holding. It's a dark night, London's lights have blocked the stars, but the air is warm and the distant city sounds are just loud enough for the night not to be scary and heavy. The firewhisky left a strong taste on the tip of Chanyeol's tongue, and an even stronger print in his mind that makes him see dragon's fire in the highlights of Jongdae's hair.

“Do you think we'll defeat You-Know-Who one day?” Chanyeol asks, licking his lips for the sweet taste of honey left by the mead.

“Of course,” Jongdae nods, like he really thinks what he's saying. “He's at the peak of his power. What more could he do now?”

Chanyeol snorts. He wouldn't defy He-who-Must-Not-Been-Named with ideas of what more and challenges like that, but it does sound so much like Jongdae to laugh at limits.

“I don't know,” Chanyeol mocks him. The mead is leaving a trail of fire in his throat, and it's good, so good. “Kill Dumbledore?”

It's Jongdae's turn to laugh at him. His shoulders shake when he does, but his parted lips only let out tiny breathy sounds that die out in the night before they can turn into full peals of laughter.

“I think he would have killed him already, if he had been able to.”

“Maybe he will be, soon. Dumbledore's getting old.”

Jongdae looks at him, his eyes so serious and so dark clashing with the veil of haziness left by all the alcohol he's gulped down.

“But Dumbledore has been old for like a century or two,” he croaks. “I would honestly be more worried if he suddenly became young.”

Chanyeol chuckles. It doesn't make any sense, Jongdae doesn't make any sense, but the holes in his words are made up by everything else that does, like the taste of honey, strong in the mead, or how confident Jongdae looks even as he nods repeatedly at Chanyeol. Like that, with London's night life happening so close, and so far at the same time, and Chanyeol's fir wand forgotten in his pocket, Chanyeol feels safe, out of reach. He casts a few glances at Jongdae, wondering if the younger male feels the same way, and he ends up stealing one too many glances, wondering one second too long. He doesn't know much about Jongdae, only that he's a muggle-born and that he was a Ravenclaw back at Hogwarts. But now, with the night casting shadows on Jongdae's chiseled face, tracing lines that disapear with sunlight at the edges of his cheekbones, Chanyeol wonders about everything else.

Jongdae's eyes are always in motion, almost fleeting, until they find an anchor, and this time, the dark pupils find it in Chanyeol's eyes. They settle on Chanyeol's face, Jongdae's gaze way too strong for someone who drunk that much, and Jongdae's eyebrows twitch ever so slightly before they finally furrow.

“He's making mistakes already,” Jongdae says. Chanyeol internally sighs, relieved that Jongdae read doubt in his eyes instead of the curiosity he's genuinely feeling. “The Ministry's Aurors are fighting off the Giants at our borders. It's been weeks since the werewolves made a break through our defenses. You-Know-Who's going to crash and burn, and we'll both be there to witness it.”

Chanyeol snorts. “I surely will. But keep acting like you did yesterday, and you won't.”

Jongdae merely shrugs, a feline smile perched on his lips. It hits both Chanyeol's pupils and his mind, shooting pure annoyance through his veins and something else he's not quite ready to name yet. He grumbles at the way Jongdae is watching him, eyes strong and sparkling with entertainment, and shoves him to make it stop. Jongdae is so tiny, muscles just taut where Chanyeol's are more built, so the shove has him losing his balance, and he reels sideways.

“Hyung,” Jongdae deadpans, rubbing his arm. “Are you really sure no one in your family is a giant?”

Chanyeol narrows his eyes at Jongdae, and just as usual, his reactions, so fast to come, are like fuel for the mischief he can read all over Jongdae's eyes. He knows it, and he mentally slaps himself, but knowing the lesson by heart doesn't stop him from making the same mistake the following time. Jongdae is like a disease with too many symptoms.

“Or maybe a troll?” Jongdae keeps teasing him. “That would explain the ears.”

Chanyeol shoves Jongdae again, this time feeling absolutely not guilt when Jongdae falls on the side and hits his elbow against the floor.

“If you insist on calling me hyung, you might as well show me the respect that comes with it,” he groans. “Plus, I wouldn't even open my mouth if I were you. No auror with self-respect would style their hair like that.”

“That's the thing,” Jongdae winks at him, still rubbing his elbow. “I don't look like an auror.”

And it's so unexpected, abrupt and kind of really smart, that Chanyeol finds himself at a loss for words. He ignores Jongdae while he finishes his drink and pours himself another one, and it's only when he gulps down the last swallow of it that he speaks to Jongdae again, interrupting the younger male on purpose. He switches to English to leave behind Korean honorifics, hoping to annoy Jongdae who's been blabbering non-stop, probably not even noticing Chanyeol's silence, but it turns out that Jongdae's hyung sounds almost cute when he says it with his English accent.

The Jongdae disease.






When Chanyeol enters Junmyeon's office, Jongdae following in his wake, Junmyeon's back is turned, and his face is hidden, but from the tension Chanyeol can see piercing through Junmyeon's shirt, he expects his boss' eyes to be filled with gravity. He doesn't give it much thought though, because his attention is immediately drawn to the ghostly shape floating at Junmyeon's face level. It's a bird, a phoenix actually, and it casts a pale blue light on the walls, its aura shining low even though the room is flooded by the sunlight. Jongdae gasps behind him, and Chanyeol can't blame him. They don't see it often here, actually, they never saw it, but a phoenix as a patronus isn't a common thing, so whose patronus it is is quite clear. Chanyeol stops dead in his tracks, and grabs Jongdae by the hips to refrain him from walking further into the room. Jongdae's leg, which was already thrown forwards, dangles middair for a short second, before landing too abruptly on the floor, the rest of Jongdae's body caught in Chanyeol's tight grip. The younger auror staggers, his shoulder crashing against Chanyeol's chest, and the latter helps him regain his balance with a disapproving clink of the tongue against the roof of his mouth. He doesn't pay attention to Jongdae's shrug and the scrunched up face he throws at him, eyes glued to the phoenix.

Dumbledore's patronus visiting their office can't be good news.

After all, there's a reason why their headquarters are situated in a muggle tower, lost between two floors full of muggle business men, protected by almost as many spells as Hogwarts. It's the very same reason that explains why, although they're definitely working with the Order of the Phoenix, they have very few contacts with them, and why they're not with the remaining aurors in the Ministry. Voldemort tends to see the world like a crystal ball he can hold in his palm and crush with his thin and pale fingers, and in a way, for someone like him who wants to have every wizard down on their knees before him, it's a sad way to envision all the possibilities. The tip of his wand is like the sword of Damocles over the Ministry's aurors, and members of the Order, whose identities have been long revealed to Voldemort's Death Eaters, but people like Chanyeol, or Junmyeon, can slip through the net almost easily. Some of them were Hogwarts students –Chanyeol was, a proud and daring Gryffindor-- but others, even more invisible to the Dark Lord's dark scarlet eyes, grew up in Korea, China, or any other country far enough for Voldemort to consider them as options instead of needs. Kyungsoo is one of them, the magic he controls a little bit different because it comes from flicks of his wrists instead of the tip of his wand, usually forgotten in his back pocket. Magic is different in Seoul's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it is everywhere around the world, but luckily for them, Voldemort doesn't understand differences, nor does he actually pay attention to them.

But they're still here, they're fighting, some of them with their wands, other with methodic curls of their fingers, and Dumbledore's phoenix barging into their boss' office, risking to blow up their cover can only mean one thing--

“We're in deep shit,” Jongdae whispers, and for once, Chanyeol can only agree.

Junmyeon glances over his shoulder. His hair is dark red today, slight curls hanging low on his forehead and hiding his furrowed eyebrows. Chanyeol catches honey colored eyes before Junmyeon turns back to the phoenix again, and whispers some hurried words to the immaterial bird. The patronus nods –Chanyeol has met Fawkes only once but his ghostly imitation has the same sparkle of cleverness in its eyes-- and then flies out of the window, almost invisible in the light sunlight. Chanyeol and Jongdae exchange looks, and Chanyeol reads in Jongdae's eyes the same questions taking over his own thoughts. What is happening?

“Good morning to you two,” Junmyeon salutes them, turning on his heels to face them. His fingers curls around a pile of paper that he readjusts against the surface of his desk before putting them back on it. “I have a mission for you.”

“Dumbledore has a mission for us,” Jongdae corrects him.

Junmyeon's eyes settle on Jongdae's face, strong and pressurizing, but Jongdae doesn't flinch. He looks at Junmyeon with the same curiosity teetering on actual impatience, and Chanyeol has to elbow him to make him lower his eyes. Two months in the office should have been enough for Jongdae to learn to fear Junmyeon's bad mood in the mornings, but it apparently didn't hit him yet.

“He wants you two to protect a woman today,” Junmyeon continues.

He has freckles spreading on the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones today, and he looks shorter, skinnier. All the changes make him look younger, almost carefree, far from the experienced auror he is, despite the suit he's wearing. Chanyeol remembers a fight he had with Jongdae –well it was a fight for him, but probably more a source of hilarity for Jongdae—because Jongdae kept saying that Junmyeon was actually eighty years old and that Chanyeol had no proof of their boss' real age. Chanyeol met Junmyeon eight years ago, and Junmyeon doesn't seem to have aged a bit, but Chanyeol never really gave it a thought until Jongdae barged in his life, and pressed his fingers on every little thing Chanyeol had never payed attention to. He now finds himself scanning Junmyeon's face, hunting down the slightest wrinkle, instead of listening to Junmyeon's briefing until his eyes finally meet Junmyeon's, and he straightens so abruptly he hears his back crack. His boss is watching him like he knows what Chanyeol was thinking about, and it has him fidgeting on his feet, clumsy apologies waiting to be spilled out behind his closed lips.

Jongdae elbows him with a disapproving clink of the tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Would you pay attention please, hyung?”

Chanyeol breathes in slowly, trying to control the bitting remark he feels burning in his mouth like poison. Jongdae's snarky tone is already making his blood boil, but if Junmyeon's vein thumping on his temple is any indication, better to keep his mouth shut.

Jongdae nods towards Junmyeon, gesturing him to keep going, and to Chanyeol's dismay, a flash of amusement crosses Junmyeon's somber gaze.

“Her name is Sybill Patricia Trelawney. She recently moved in Hogwarts, but she will be in Diagon Alley today, and Dumbledore wants us to keep an eye on her.”

“Trelawney?” Chanyeol frowns. “I read about her. She'll be the new professor of Divination in September, right?”

Junmyeon nods, and Jongdae irks.

“Erk,” he says when both Junmyeon and Chanyeol raise their eyebrows at him. “Divination. Erk.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Chanyeol sighs.

“Anyway,” Junmyeon's voice stops Chanyeol before he can go further. “He wants you to watch over her, but discreetly. People must not think that she has an escort of any kind. Just make sure she goes back to Hogwarts safe and sound at the end of the day.”

“Why does he want us to follow her? Is she someone important?” Jongdae questions.

Junmyeon merely shrugs at that, and Chanyeol, even though he was totally expecting it, feels a little bit disappointed. It's common knowledge that Dumbledore doesn't really share his ulterior motives, and just as frequent for Junmyeon to conveniently forget to tell them the little he knows. Chanyeol has learned to live with it, and years of experience have taught him that the fewer people know something, the lower the risk to have all your secrets spilled out anyway, so he just goes with it. But Jongdae, with his arms crossed on his chest, obviously doesn't share his opinions. He's pouting, the usually upturned corners of his lips falling low on his chin and his eyes flashing a pleading look directed straight at Junmyeon. Chanyeol feels a pang of annoyance at the sight, and instead of shaking Jongdae and screaming in his ear to act his age like he wants so bad, he clenches his fists and looks away. Not for long though, because his eyes seem to go back to Jongdae's face every two seconds, and it has him bitting back a groan everytime, each time harder to swallow. Jongdae's curls are tighter today, and his eyebrows are doing things normal eyebrows can't possibly do, and it's all just so infuriating, but also so hypnotizing.

“Go,” Junmyeon orders, his voice a little unsure.

Chanyeol happily notices that Junmyeon looks as flustered as he feels because of Jongdae, but he stops rejoicing as soon as he remembers that Junmyeon won't have to spend the whole day alone with Jongdae. He will. Two months ago, he would have fought against it, maybe even thrown a fit, found a lot of reasons why Jongdae shouldn't come, and Junmyeon would have wiped them all away with a flick of the hand, but two months later, he just sighs and grabs Jongdae's elbow before disapparating.

He wonders if Jongdae is some sort of mystical creature that feeds his never-ending good mood with other people's will to fight. That would explain a lot, like how he managed to suck Chanyeol's energy dry.






“Mrs. Trelawney!”

Chanyeol swears under his mouth as Jongdae literally slides between his clenched fingers. One second, he's holding the younger's shirt, and trying not to think about Jongdae's jutting hipbone grazing his knuckles from time to time, and the following second, he watches, mortified, Jongdae running to catch Sybill Trelawney down the street. Park Chanyeol, experienced auror, with some of the fastest reflexes among his peers, just stands there, taken aback as Jongdae stops Professor Trelawney and starts a conversation. Park Chanyeol, proud and strong auror, looks right and left, completely lost, as if the answer was written on one of the passersby's face. He finally reacts one or two heartbeats too late and curses, out loud this time, before rushing forwards.

He has a bad feeling. It's been lurking since the morning, almost shy and hesitant, weak enough for Chanyeol to dismiss it, but it finally crashed against him when Jongdae slipped out of his grip. It was so easy for him, just a sway of the hips and a sudden acceleration, and he was out of Chanyeol's reach. Way too easy actually, almost like it was bound to happen, as if Jongdae was some curls of smoke that Chanyeol was trying to hold back in his hands, and Chanyeol has a very very bad feeling. So now he's running after Jongdae, not knowing exactly why he's so afraid, but using the fast and erratic beating of his heart to feed his muscles pure adrenaline instead of wanting to slow it down. He navigates through people, ignores the groans and mumbles he receives, and focuses on trying to reason with himself that there's absolutely no reason to feel this scared. Jongdae is right there, a few steps ahead, and he's just conversating, and probably charming Sybill Trelawney. He's so close that Chanyeol catches the unique pitch of Jongdae's voice amongst all the noises echoing through Diagon Alley.

“Don't tell me you're Cassandra Trelawney's great great granddaughter?” Jongdae exclaims, almond shapped eyes turning rounder with the surprise he's faking.

Chanyeol is so close that he can read Jongdae's mimickings, and see how exaggerated they are, how mocking Jongdae is being with the poor woman. He reaches out, fingers only a few inches from Jongdae's shoulder, but someone bumps into him, knocks the air out of him, and a pile of heavy books rains on his feet. He moans in pain as the young wizard pours out excuses after excuses, and Jongdae --”It's such a shame that I'm not in Hogwarts anymore, it would have been such an honor to have you as my professor”-- disappears around the corner.

“I'm so sorry,” the teenager says, his eyes widening when Chanyeol straightens up and reveals to be almost three heads taller than him. “I wasn't--”

Chanyeol doesn't hear the end of the boy's sentence over the explosion that suddenly shakes all the shops around them. The blast is followed by a tinkling sound, like hundreds of glass pieces falling to the ground, and a heavy black smoke is already curling towards the sky above their heads. Chanyeol's left ear is whistling because of the proximity, but he doesn't flinch nor does he hesitate. He grabs the kid, shoves him away, and grabs his wand, knuckles turning white on the fir wood as he runs to the corner of the street. There are no screams despite the agitation all around him, people are way too used to attacks like that to be afraid anymore. They're just running to safe places to find shelter, disapparating with loud snaps, and all in all, it makes Chanyeol's run so much easier.

He barges into one of the Diagon Alley's perpendicular dead-ends, expecting to see it completely destroyed and both Jongdae and Trelawney's bodies lying dead on the ground, but the sight welcoming him is slightly different. The corner shop, higher than it's large, has partially crumbled down, thick ropes of black smoke escaping from the broken windows, and the ashes left by the destructive spells are still whirling around in thin air, following the currents left by the Death Eaters' sudden disapparitions. Trelawney is indeed lying on the ground, but Chanyeol wastes no time rushing to her side. Her closed eyelids are already fluttering, and her hand is crawling to her chest so that her ringed-fingers can clench on her poor heart, as if it would stop the liquid fear from dilating her veins.

But Jongdae is nowhere to be seen.

“Jongdae?!” Chanyeol screams as he spins around, his wand seeking for a target. “Jongdae, can you hear me?”

Why would Death Eaters take his assistant away? What does Jongdae represent for them? Jongdae is a nobody, he's just—he's just his assistant, so he's probably still here, somewhere. If he doesn't answer though, if he's not walking towards Chanyeol yet, it can only mean one thing, and Chanyeol, Chanyeol isn't ready for that.

“JONG--”

“I'm here!”

Chanyeol turns on his heels to find a stunned Jongdae stepping out of the shop's rubble, the dirt all over his face making his cheekbones stand out even more. Chanyeol lowers his hand and rushes to the younger male, barely slowing down when he reaches him, and the crash between their two bodies has Jongdae threatening to fall. Chanyeol wraps his arms around the younger's waist to stabilise him, and Jongdae looks up at him with confused, wide eyes. He looks so much younger like this, with his hair sticking out and a few rocks stuck in the mess that are his curls, and Chanyeol's grip tightens when he notices Jongdae is holding the wrong end of his wand.

“You're not hurt,” he whispers. “You're okay.”

The proximity between them displays Jongdae's face in a strange way, with way much more details than Chanyeol's has never seen. Jongdae has a weird pimple at the beginning part of his left eyebrow, but the more Chanyeol looks at it, the more he thinks it might be a mole. So it makes, what twelve, forteen moles on Jongdae's face? That's a lot of moles for only a face, especially because Jongdae has more of them, on his arms, and of course the collarbone one and--

“You can let me go,” Jongdae says with a little smile, and it takes Chanyeol a few blinks to fully understands his words. “You said it yourself, I'm okay.”

“Uh yeah, sure,” Chanyeol splutters as he steps back so abruptly his shoulder hits Jongdae's jawline. “Sorry.”

Jongdae chuckles, lips taking the shape of what might be a smirk for a half a second, and adjusts his posture to lose the dazed look in favor of a more cocky one. He throws his wand, and it spins in the air before Jongdae catches it, fingers curling around the right end this time.

“You should have seen me,” he brags.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Chanyeol erupts. He aims at Jongdae's wand. “Accio!”

The look of surprise taking over Jongdae's stupid smirk is almost enough to calm Chanyeol down, but just in case, he still throws Jongdae's wand at the latter, making sure it hits a sensitive area, like Jongdae's collarbone. Jongdae gasps in pain and furiously rubs the spot, pouting at Chanyeol with betrayed eyes.

“Pick up your wand, you dumbass,” Chanyeol barks. “You should know better, never be unarmed, especially right after an attack.”

“But you threw it!” Jongdae protests. “At me!”

“IT WAS TO MAKE UP FOR YOUR LACK OF WOUNDS, IDIOT!”

Jongdae glares at him as he leans down to pick up his wand, but Chanyeol doesn't let it trick him into feeling guilty. His heart is still aching in his chest from the fear he felt, and he's pretty sure it beat so hard it cracked a few of his ribs. He's used to the tension, the suspense and more things than he can control taking their tolls on him, but the sudden rush of adrenaline with that something more he can't name, won't name, was unexpected, different. He's never been so angry, furious to the extent that seeing Jongdae tiptoeing hesitantly towards Sybill Trelawney with several cautious glances thrown at Chanyeol doesn't even please him.

“So,” Jongdae starts, his voice lower than Chanyeol has never heard it. “What are we going to do now?”

“We're going to take her back to Hogwarts. You're going to apologise to her, and Dumbledore, and then, I'll go talk to Junmyeon and have you fired.”

Jongdae's eyebrows furrow, but for once –thank god— he remains silent. Chanyeol keeps his eyes glued to Trelawney, now sitting up with her large eyes threatening to pop out any second, because looking at Jongdae would finish him, and throw him over the edge. He slides his arm under Trelawney's to get her back on her feet, and his mind disconnects while she blabbers at them, obviously still confused about what just happened. He's one of the best aurors in the office, and he's never messed up a mission this bad, but it's not only Jongdae's fault. He's different around the younger auror, Jongdae has that effect on him. He shouldn't have frozen earlier, he should have run to Jongdae right away, but instead he stood there, and he missed the feeling of Jongdae's warmth between his fingers a second or two too long.

Until now, he's never had the right arguments with Junmyeon, but Chanyeol thinks he might just have found them. He can't work with Jongdae anymore.

Jongdae steps closer, almost shyly, with his head lowered. The curls on his forehead don't make bangs long enough to hide his face, so Chanyeol easily catches Jongdae's under lip being abused by his pointy teeth. His eyes also notice the red patch spreading on Jongdae's chest, sticking out of his shirt's collar, right where Chanyeol threw his wand.

“It's okay, Professor, we're taking you home,” Jongdae finally says. He's purposely avoiding Chanyeol's eyes, focusing on Trelawney for now. His voice is low, but smooth and still warm. It clashes with the dirt on his face and the scratches on his arms, but it's so convincing that Trelawney immediately loosens between Chanyeol's hands. Somehow, Chanyeol himself ends up staring at Jongdae when the latters shuts up, eyes watching Jongdae's lips in the hope that they would part, and let him hear Jongdae's voice again.

Jongdae probably feels Chanyeol's gaze, or maybe it's the lack of movement that has him looking up, but when their eyes meet, Chanyeol is suddenly reminded of the fear and the anger. He looks away.

“To Hogsmeade,” he snaps between gritted teeth.

He tries not to feel guilty about the pleading look he catches in Jongdae's eyes just before he disapparates with Trelawney.







Junmyeon's hair is of a strange shade of brown, the tip of his hair shinning with golden highlights while his roots match the darkness of his thick eyebrows, and Chanyeol finds himself distracted by the sun rays caught in his boss' bangs everytime Junmyeon swipes them away. He's taller, almost reaching Chanyeol's height, and his body is more built, taut. He looks more mature with the plain dark green shirt so close to his skin that it follows effortlessly the slightest roll of Junmyeon's chest muscles, and the round glasses he has perched on his thin nose gives him that Professor aura Junmyeon always carries around somehow, no matter his appearence. He's talking, his voice as serious as the look in his eyes, hazel colored, but Chanyeol doesn't really pay attention, too caught up in his usual hunt for wrinkles around Junmyeon's natural pink lips. He hasn't talked to Jongdae for a whole week, but Jongdae's voice is still loud and clear in his mind—oh please look at him he's definitely older than thirty, my bet is eighty years old!.

He's been working solo all week, except for a few missions, too delicate to be handled by a single auror, but Kyungsoo was his partner for those. He's a clever auror, merciless and smart, and together, they've done a great job, like they always do, without any drama or stupid mistakes. Chanyeol knows he should feel relieved, proud of their work, but he mostly feels... bored. Kyungsoo is a very quiet person, and his humor is sometimes hard to swallow, bordering on spitefulness. He has plain, short dark hair styled up, and a strong gaze, solid and piercing. All in all, he's everything Jongdae isn't. Actually, it's more like he's not everything Jongdae is.

Jongdae has been working with Kim Jongin the whole week, and Chanyeol has caught sight of him in the office only two times since he yelled at Junmyeon that he didn't want to work with the auror-in-training anymore. The two times, though, Jongin was happily walking through the office, his usual warm smile perched on his lips while a carefree-looking Jongdae followed him, curls bouncing on his forehead. The idea that Jongdae might be happier working with Jongin than he was with him reveals to be more disturbing that Kyungsoo's cold smile when he unleashes a devastating incendio spell on a dark wizard.

“Chanyeol?” Junmyeon asks. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Uh?” Chanyeol blinks, Junmyeon's narrowed eyes filling his vision. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Junmyeon watches him for a while, eyebrows knitted together, probably judging the amount of lying in Chanyeol's last words. The latter mentally shakes himself, fighting off Jongdae's presence in his thoughts as hard as he can. His mind has turned into a battlefield, it's been one for close to two months now, and he would have thought that Jongdae leaving his sight would have meant him finally taking the intruder down in his head, but Chanyeol couldn't have been more wrong. Jongdae still stands tall, strong and unbeattable in his thoughts, even stronger than the burning taste of mead that Chanyeol has learned to drink all alone throughout the last week.

“Okay,” Junmyeon finally gives in. “I was saying that--”

Jongdae and Jongin choose that precise moment to enter the office, of course, and not expecting their boss to be so close to the door, Jongin bumps into Junmyeon. He grabs Junmyeon's elbow to keep himself from falling and chuckles, voice melodious around the excuses he's throwing at Junmyeon (and that Junmyeon is almost drinking). But Chanyeol's eyes are fixated on Jongdae's face, and Jongdae's eyes are meeting Chanyeol's middair. It's the first time Chanyeol sees him that close in a week, and his first want is to find Jongdae's mole in his eyebrow, and wonders for way too much time if it's really a mole, or just a pimple that never goes away. The first thing he actually notices thought, is the black taking over Jongdae's face. It spreads on his cheekbones, like dark wings merging with the curve of his eyes, and looks so settled down, like it will never leave. The white surrounding Jongdae's eyebags is pale, ready to be taken over, and so fragile it looks like the skin would tear apart with the slightlest brush.

Jongdae lowers his eyes, and the sudden emptiness filling Chanyeol's almost hurts.

“So,” Jongin chirps. “The two of you talking like that... I suppose there's another mission for you, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol doesn't look away from Jongdae, only nodding, but Jongin doesn't even notice, too busy looking at Junmyeon, and Junmyeon is too eager to answer to Jongin's enquiries to realise Chanyeol's silence.

“Yeah, and it's coming from the Order,” Junmyeon answers –is he really bragging about that?? “But he'll need a partner for that one, and I can't send Kyungsoo, he's already busy with a werewolf attack in Ireland.”

“Ouch, nasty,” Jongin grimaces, and that's when Chanyeol zones out of the conversation.

Jongdae is glancing at him, and Chanyeol really doesn't want to, but he can't help but read the hope glimmering in the younger's black eyes. He can't let Jongdae walk through the limits he's built himself, limits that were more than needed, especially after Chanyeol has spent so much time complaining over Jongdae's tendency to stamp on other people's resolve. It's easier to remember how annoying and unprofessional Jongdae is when the latter isn't looking at him with eyes about to get devoured by his eyebags though. Chanyeol's heart misses a beat, or two. He wants to reach so bad, he wants to wrap his arms around Jongdae's waist again and make sure he's as solid as he was one week earlier, as warm and alive, and that's exactly what does it. With memories of Jongdae's hipbone grazing Chanyeol's knuckles, the auror remembers how easily Jongdae slipped away from his hold, like water mocking his closed fingers, and how lost, how tiny it made him feel. He doesn't want to face that again, never.

This time, Chanyeol is the one looking away.

“Yeah, whatever,” he croaks almost harshly, and both Junmyeon and Jongin look at him, surprised. “I'm gonna get ready, Junmyeon. Just call me when you found me a partner.”

Chanyeol has never run from a fight, he has always raised his wand, no matter how low the chances for him to win were, and it's one of the thing he's the proudest of. Now that he's trying to reason himself by repeating that he's not actually fleeing this time either, he understands he'll never be able to brag about his courage to his peers anymore. You don't have to be running to act like a coward, and Chanyeol's slow strides are more than enough to make him feel weaker and more sickenning that he never has.






Junmyeon tells him, one hour later, that he'll be the one joining him on this mission, because everyone else is busy. Behind his round glasses, Junmyeon's eyes glimmer with a paradox his leader doesn't know what to do about. Finally leaving the office and going back on the field obviously pleases him a lot, but he looks worried at the same time, preoccupied. He's been leading that office for nine years, since the very beginning, he worked so hard to get it there, and he doesn't want to risk to lose it, and have all that hard work go to waste. Chanyeol understands, but he doesn't say a thing about it. He has his own battles to fight, after all. He can't wait to go on mission, every cells of his body longing for the rush of adrenaline that comes with danger, so he can finally feel at peace, at least for a few minutes. He'll take everything he can.

He's navigating through the desks in the main room, aiming for the bathroom in the absence of better things to do, when someone suddenly grabs him by the elbow. He catches light brown curls on the edge of his vision before a body crashes against his, more bones than skin, and sends him woobling on the side, straight into a closet. Jongdae pushes him further inside and closes the door behind him. It's dark for a short second, dark until--

“Lumos.”

Jongdae's voice, barely louder than a whisper comes with hot breath grazing Chanyeol's Adam's Apple, and the tip of his wand lighting up. Chanyeol looks down, and his eyes collide with Jongdae's, already glued on him.

“What the hell,” Chanyeol splutters, but Jongdae doesn't answer.

He puts his wand on the shelf, the low light now reaching only the sides of their faces. Darkness engulfs Jongdae's left side of his face, strong and overwhelming. His right eyebag stands out proudly in the light, like it's mocking Chanyeol.

“You have to take me,” Jongdae begs him. “For that mission. Please. Take me with you.”

Chanyeol tries to act as if they aren't locked in a closet, as if the space between their bodies isn't reduced to just a few inches, and as if Jongdae's voice doesn't break his heart.

“Jongdae,” he sighs. “We tried this. We just don't work well together.”

Jongdae rolls his eyes at him, a brief but actually really pleasing flash of what Chanyeol is used to when it comes to the younger auror.

“We're amazing together,” he retorts. “I promise I'll obey to your every word. I'll be the best assistant ever, just... Take me.” He licks his lips, hesitant, and his eyes focus on the darkness over Chanyeol's shoulder. “I don't want to work with Jongin anymore, please...”

And that's when Chanyeol understands. His hand reaches instinctively, nesting against Jongdae's hipbone as he struggles to swallow down his worry to a quieter level because all he really wants right now is to take Jongdae in his arms, stroke his hair and tell him he's safe now.

Jongin is an auror like every other, but he has a particularity that has a certain type of mission fall between his hands more often than not. He's usually the one Junmyeon calls on to escort the caught Death Eaters to Azkaban, even more now that Harold Minchum, the current Minister of Magic, placed even more Dementors in the wizard prison. Jongin remains strong around the vil creatures, he doesn't falter, and his eyes never leave the Death Eaters. Only a few people can achieve that kind of exploit, and Jongin, with his puppy-like demeanour, is one of them. Jongdae though, judging from the fear taking over his eyes little by little, is like Chanyeol, like most of them who can't handle being near to the Dementors too often. How many trips did they do to the prison this week? Fifteen? More, less? Chanyeol wonders what images they throw in Jongdae's mind, and what memories they take away from him. He knows he shouldn't, because he never wondered for any of his coworkers, but Jongdae being a little more than his colleagues isn't new.

Jongdae is still imploring him with teary eyes, and it's all it takes for Chanyeol to reconsider his decision. The alternative is way scarier than the feeling of finally holding Jongdae, having him to lose him the following second, and Chanyeol is too weak, anyway. So he gives in.

“Okay,” he breathes out.

Jongdae tenses, and the air around them stiffens with him. Chanyeol can feel Jongdae's abdomen muscles harden under his shirt, as if Jongdae was expecting a hard blow, and all Chanyeol wishes is to take it all away. He slides his fingers under Jongdae's shirt, slowly, almost shyly, and rests his palm on Jongdae's lower stomach. Most of his fingers are on Jongdae's belt, but the others are spread out on Jongdae's skin, for the very first time. It's warm, soft. Jongdae's breathing speeds up ever so slightly, and it happens right under Chanyeol's palm. His own lungs empty themselves in a barely muffled gasp that has Jongdae curling his fingers around Chanyeol's sleeves.

“Okay,” Chanyeol repeats. “I'm taking you with me.”

Jongdae closes his eyes, his lashes casting long and tormented shadows on his cheeks, too dark to be erased by the faint light coming from his wand, and he breathes out, obivously relieved. The tension leaves his muscles, his posture, but Chanyeol is there to keep him standing on his two feet. He slowly wraps his arms around Jongdae's waist, sliding them under Jongdae's shirt, and locks his hands in the small of Jongdae's back. When Chanyeol pulls Jongdae into his embrace, Jongdae comes easily, body already curved so it can fit against Chanyeol's, and it's like cooking with Jongdae all over again.

There's something lurking under the black surface of Jongdae's pupils, but it doesn't look like it's meant to remain hidden. Jongdae is the one burying it when Chanyeol wants to focus on it though, because he quickly burrows his head in Chanyeol's neck.

“Thank you,” Jongdae murmurs, voice muffled against Chanyeol's skin.

“You're welcome.”

Jongdae's wand goes off at some point, but neither of them move. Even in pitch black darkness, it's still the best hug Chanyeol has ever had.







Chanyeol has never liked places that are so shady they never question the presence of hooded visitors, and Hog's Head, with its acrid smell lingering in the air and its bad habit to be the meeting place of suspicious wizards, is probably the worst of them all. The huge glasses of firewhisky would help a little if the beverage wasn't way too strong for him, and the place doesn't even sell butterbeer. He and Jongdae aren't here to unwind after a tiring week anyway, they're here to catch Lucius Malfoy red-handed. After months, actually more like years, of hunting him down, the Ministry's aurors may have found something against what might be one of the most powerful Death Eaters. Malfoy's influence made the whole hunt harder, and more delicate, and he's a clever man, cold and bitting like a snake. If Jongdae and Chanyeol catch him at Hog's Head today like they intend to, he'll be more of a dead duck. So for once, Chanyeol tries not to mind that somewhat sense of fashion which allows both he and Jongdae to remain hidden hunder heavy hoods, long cloaks even concealing their silhouettes as they wait.

Chanyeol loses himself in his thoughts, already thinking about what they'll accomplish if they do catch Lucius Malfoy. The latter, because of his rank in the Ministry, is probably a member of Voldemort's innermost circle, and if they manage to get to him, he'll probably have some very interesting things to say. The idea has him so excited, blood turning into adrenaline in his veins, that he gulps down his entire glass of firewhisky without flinching or even minding the dirt on the glass. Is it possible that Jongdae was right all this time? That Voldemort is standing on the edge, and they're about to push him straight into the abyss? Is it really possible that the war may be over soon...?

“Hey,” Jongdae whispers. “Look.”

Chanyeol breaks out of his reverie, shaking himself to regain his focus. He glances at the front door, at the two silhouettes who just came in, black-robed and faces hidden in the shadows of large hoods. One of them scan the room with a slight gesture of the head, but they don't stop on Chanyeol and Jongdae's table. The gesture, though, has the dark cloak switching ever so slightly, just enough actually, for Chanyeol to catch sight of a strand of white hair. His fingers clench on his wand, and the adrenaline starts to burn in his muscles. He bites on his lips, eyes glued to the new customers, so focused on the silhouettes, that he fails to see the flick of Jongdae's wrist under the table, the tip of the latter's wand directed at the innkeeper holding a tray near them.

The innkeeper immediately trips, and reaches out instinctively to regain his balance. His thick fingers close on Chanyeol's cloak, and when he finally falls forward, the cloak follows him before Chanyeol can do anything. He jumps up, knowing that without his cover, he has less than two seconds to make a move on the Death Eaters, but when he spins around, his ankle hits the innkeeper's leg. The unexpected blow makes him lose his balance. From the corner of his vision, he sees Jongdae raising his wand, and he hears his voice, loud and strong, slice the air.

“Stupefy!”

But it's too late. Chanyeol heard the disapparition's snaps even before he touched the floor.






“I'm sorry Chanyeol,” Jongdae whispers.

It's so far from the loud outbursts of cheerful and encouraging words Chanyeol was expecting, but it's still Jongdae's voice, and even if they're sitting in the meeting room, which is the largest room in the office, it still fills its every corner. It crashes against the walls, against Chanyeol. He wants to keep it in his hand, press it against his chest, and bask in it, so he waits, but Jongdae remains quiet.

“Why would you be,” Chanyeol ends up mumbling. “It wasn't your fault. The innkeeper tripped. He tripped and Malfoy left.”

From the corner of his vision, Chanyeol makes out Jongdae biting his lip. Silence and Jongdae usually don't sit well, but Jongdae waits minutes before he talks, and it leaves Chanyeol confused, more lost than he already feels. When they broke the news to Junmyeon, the latter's usually proud and strong line of shoulders fell down, and his posture has been nothing but heavy curves since then, and Chanyeol has waited ever since for Jongdae's voice to come up with something that would cheer him up. He'd ask Jongdae to say something, but he's never had to ask before, and it's exactly why he really needs Jongdae to talk right now.

Plus, Chanyeol doesn't feel like looking Jongdae in the eyes, not after what happened in the inn. After all those times he yelled at Jongdae, he's the one faceplanting like an idiot and screwing things up.

“It wasn't your fault either,” Jongdae tries again, but it's short, and it feels forced. It slices the silence instead of erasing it, and now the total absence of sounds is bleeding on them.

“It was Malfoy under that cloak,” Chanyeol snaps. “I'm betting my life on this. It was him. He's too smart to make the same mistake twice, but if we don't catch him red-handed, if we just find proofs and arrest him, he'll throw the Imperius curse excuse at us.”

Chanyeol finally blinks the dryness in his eyes away, and turns his head to face Jongdae. The latter has tensed at the mention of the Unforgivable curse, but he barely reacts when their eyes meet.

“Do you understand what this means, Jongdae? Because of me, months and months of investigating went to waste. The Ministry's aurors worked hard, and I screwed everything up.”

Jondgae just stays there, motionless, and kind of detached. His eyes, so dark, travel from Chanyeol's right eye to his left, and the tension lies, barely noticeable but still there, in his jaws. The office's lights are off, but Jongdae almost glows in the pale blue light coming from London through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Chanyeol wonders how bad it is for him to be wanting to drag Jongdae in the closet and stay there with him while other wizards fight the war. It's probably every shade of wrong, because Jongdae is looking at him like he's disappointed, like he's ashamed. The closet is probably hundred of miles away from his thoughts, right now.

“Look, do you want to.. I don't know, we could go to the Order's headquarters so you can explain what happened. Maybe it'll help you with the guilt,” Jongdae tries, almost shrugs.

“No,” Chanyeol looks away. “Junmyeon has probably told them everything already. It's okay.”

“Oh,” Jongdae says. “Okay.” He pauses. “I'll be going home now.”

Chanyeol hollowly nods. He wasn't expecting Jongdae to stay there with him all night long anyway, especially if all he's going to do is stare at his wand on the desk and think about that white strand of hair again and again. It doesn't mean that Jongdae standing up so easily, almost quickly, doesn't sting, and the warm palm the younger auror puts on his shoulder, the tip of his fingers grazing Chanyeol's collarbone, doesn't really help.

“You should go home as well,” Jongdae tells him.

Chanyeol nods a second time, and the slight gesture has his collarbone pressing against Jongdae's fingers, but the touch is fleeting, too short, because Jongdae's hand breaks away almost immediately.

“Good night Chanyeol” Jongdae hastens to add, but the smile on his face doesn't really match with how fast he's stepping back.

Jongdae leaves, and Chanyeol genuinely wonders if he's sadder about the mess he's made with Malfoy, or about Jongdae calling him Chanyeol.








“So, are you planning on hiding away for a long time?”

Chanyeol starts, heart jumping up in his chest at the unexpected voice. He quickly turns around in his chair, bulging eyes trying to look disapproving but flashing no more than a breathless surprise at Junmyeon.

“Hey!” he protests. His voice comes out a little strained, like he's running out of breath. It's not surprising when his boss just scared the living daylights out of him. “What the hell?”

He has nothing more to throw at Junmyeon, no harsh words and not even a glare, because his heart is beating way too fast to allow more than the minimum dose of oxygen to reach his brain, and Chanyeol can't think with his blood still thumping loudly in his veins. He glares another time at Junmyeon, and draws back his attention on the papers spread out on the table before him.

Junmyeon's eyes are pitch black today, and it's so unusual that they stand out in the middle of his face, almost surreal. The biggest change is probably in the heaviness they carry around though, heaviness that Chanyeol can feel weighing down on his back and neck while he reads the same line over three times.

“Do you really think I'm that stupid, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol glances at his watch, as discreetly as he can, praying that it's past noon and that Junmyeon isn't as tense as he is in the morning. He's spent the past few days in the meeting room, reading Lucius Malfoy's record over and over again in the hope that he would find something worth the disparition of his sleep schedule. Something that would, more importantly, make up for his mistake. Therefore, days and nights leave the same dryness on his tongue, like the pages he keeps turning, and counting the hours has become optional, useless actually. His watch greets him with a flashy red nine am, and Chanyeol mentally curses.

“You know the Auror Department is still working on that case, you really don't have to--”

“I know,” Chanyeol interrupts him. “But without me, that case would be solved. The least I can do is help them clean my mess.”

Junmyeon sighs, and for a short second, Chanyeol thinks he's in the clear. It's a fleeting second though, because Junmyeon's counter attack comes before the silence can settle down.

“You weren't working on Lucius' case, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol groans as he leans down until his forehead hits the wooden table. Junmyeon's right, he wasn't, and no matter how long he's been sitting in the meeting room –two days, five—he knows he hasn't spent more than half of it cramming Malfoy's record. It's the office's fault, because it's hidden in a Muggle business tower, and those kind of buildings tower over the city with proud sunlight reflections on hundred of glasses. A contemporary architect designed it, and they thought it'd be a great idea to make their buyer spend a lot more money by putting frameless glass walls everywhere, just to fit the outside look of the building. From where he's sitting, Chanyeol has the best view over the whole office. And Jongdae's every move.

Since Chanyeol locked himself in the meeting room days ago, Jongdae has been working here and there. From what Chanyeol has seen, Jongdae has been doing great, mostly working with Kyungsoo and even catching a few dark wizards on his own. None of them as important as Malfoy though, but it's still some of Voldemort's minions out of the game, in the end. Chanyeol can only work when Jongdae is on mission, not only because his voice, too loud and strong to be stopped by plain windows, doesn't clash against Chanyeol eardrums, but also because losing himself in the hundred of pages makes it easier for Chanyeol to swallow down his worry. A few days ago, Kyungsoo and Jongdae came back in the office after an impromptu meeting with no less than Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange. The reason why, and mostly how, Lestrange knew about Kyungsoo and Jongdae's mission in time to put together a trap is still unknown to this day, but they all know that Bellatrix only comes out to kill or accomplish Voldemort's most important missions, which can't be a good sign. At least, the memory of Jongdae's curls glued to his forehead by the blood running down his temple gave Chanyeol a pretty good reason to follow with his eyes Jongdae's every move in the office. Even if it means watching him eat sweets with Minseok for an hour, or laugh like an idiot with Jongin. (Especially if it means that.)

Jongdae is just being is usual self, bright and overwhelming, and Chanyeol... Well, Chanyeol is just being Chanyeol, in the end. Of course, Junmyeon wouldn't miss that. Of course.

“Are you going to ask me to change Jongdae's assignation again?”

“Wait what? No!” Chanyeol retorts, on the defensive. But Junmyeon's black eyes don't flinch, and Chanyeol reconsiders. “No,” he says again, his voice more controlled.

He can't really say he hasn't thought about it though, because that would be a lie. He knows the multiple times he barged into Junmyeon's office to complain about Jongdae, or to ask him to pair the auror-in-training with someone else should have been what held him back, but it isn't. It's how wobbly Jongdae makes him, when Chanyeol really needs to be solid and constant. He can't let the younger auror get under his skin like that, he can't spend his missions watching Jongdae from the corner of his eyes in fear that he might end up getting hurt. When Jongdae came back from Lestrange's ambush, it took Chanyeol hours to swallow down the bile burning the back of his throat, and it was a single cut along Jongdae's hairline, nothing more. He has learned his lesson, he knows he's less of an auror when Jongdae is around, so asking Junmyeon to place Jongdae under someone else's wing is the best decision to make.

“Great,” Junmyeon says. “Because Kyungsoo asked me to pair him with Jongdae for good.”

“Really?” Chanyeol asks, surprised.

His eyes leave Junmyeon's face on their own to search for Jongdae through the glass walls. He finds him conversating with Sooyoung, wrinkles maping the corners of his eyes as she bursts out laughing. The only time Chanyeol met Bellatrix Lestrange, he ended up in St Mungo for two weeks, so Jongdae is obviously doing better than he was, but a part of him wants to grab the younger male and beg him to be more careful. He knows how Jongdae works, how he steps over limits without even a second-thought, and Chanyeol also knows he's not strong enough to actually make Jongdae change. He's pretty sure no one can, not even Kyungsoo. He spots the latter a few steps behind Jongdae, leaning against the wall, and dark eyes following Jongdae's every gesture, and a stong of jealousy takes him by surprise. He tries to shake it off, telling himself that if Kyungsoo can't protect Jongdae, no one, not even Chanyeol himself, can, but it doesn't help. He can't bring himself to admit they'd make a great team.

“I won't ask,” Junmyeon finally says again, his voice softer, more like a friend than a boss. “But I need you to be at your best, because I have a mission for you.”

Chanyeol frowns. He would pull out the Malfoy record excuse, but something in Junmyeon's black eyes tell him not to.

“I need you, and Kyungsoo, in the Ministry tonight. There's gonna be a secret meeting with the Minister, and the Order needs some backup, just in case.”

Pictures of the Ministry flash through Chanyeol's mind, its long corridors and dark corners, along with how vast it is, how easy it would be for a bunch of Death Eathers to hide. He's worked with the Order before, and it never ended up well, but Chanyeol has been fighting this war for too long to simply refuse. Voldemort taking down the Minister when they're finally gaining ground again would be the worst thing that could happen.

He nods, short but determined.

“Okay,” Junmyeon beams at him, obviously relieved. “I'll tell you the details when I'll have them. Thank you, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol slightly nods again, then pretending to look down at his papers, his silence forcing Junmyeon to finally leave the meeting room, but Lucius Malfoy couldn't be farther away from his thoughts. It'll be a delicate mission, and Jongdae won't be there even though Kyungsoo will. It's been ages since adrenaline hasn't rushed into Chanyeol's veins without the aftertaste of fear and the distracting need to keep Jongdae in his field of vision, and Chanyeol is more than ready to be an auror again. His wand has been inactive for too long, and he finds himself almost looking forward to the night. Almost, because it's an important mission, the type of mission Bellatrix Lestrange likes to jeopardize, and Chanyeol hasn't enjoyed his stay in St Mungo to the point of wanting to go back so soon.

“Still ruining your eyes over useless words, I see.”

Chanyeol blinks up, grumbling when his eyes settle on Jongdae's smiling face. He doesn't waste any time in wondering how Jongdae slipped into the room and sat across from him without Chanyeol noticing him. More than the perfect grades in Stealth and Tracking he remembers from Jongdae's record, he's been around the younger male way more than enough to know how easily Jongdae slips into other people's bubbles, without poping them.

“Leave me alone, Jongdae,” he grumbles, but he doesn't make the slightest gesture to actually chase the younger away.

It's obvious in the way Jongdae's eyes narrow into smiling slits that he noticed it as well. It's a two-way curse, because if Chanyeol knows how overwhelming and invasive Jongdae can be, the latter definitely how Chanyeol works as well.

“You know, if you don't go back on the field pretty soon, you'll become old and useless. I'm already better than you,” Jongdae singsons.

“You wish,” Chanyeol snorts. “Kyungsoo's a good auror, but he's no me.”

Jongdae shrugs. “He's not old and useless. And he actually fights. He's not you, I have to agree, but no matter how much I liked being trained by you, I'd rather go with Grim Curse than waste my time reading.”

Chanyeol's skin is already starting to prickle with annoyance, but he still tries to shield himself from the way Jongdae's words are raining on him. He has always been too much to be taken in one-go, so Chanyeol tries to take a few seconds to consider everything, from Jongdae confessing he liked working with him, to his despicable habit of calling Chanyeol old. It'd be easier if Jongdae wasn't watching him with a provocative grin, though.

“First of all,” Chanyeol finally snaps. “Kyungsoo is like only one year younger than me, okay? And believe me, if he hears you calling him like that, you'll deeply regret it.”

“But isn't it perfect for him?” Jongdae cackles. “He's like the Grim omen. You see him, you die.”

Chanyeol motions him to shut up with knitted eyebrows, and he raises his voice in hope that it would cover Jongdae's stupid snickering.

“And you'll be glad to know I'm going on a mission in the Ministry tonight,” he throws at Jongdae, enjoying the surprise he sees all over the younger male's face probably a little too much. “So not that useless, uh? The Order asked me to protect their secret meeting with the Minister” he brags. “You still have a long way to become better than me, Kim Jongdae.”

“Pff,” Jongdae snorts. “I'll get there faster than you did.”

“I guess we'll see.”

Jongdae nods, his lips pressed into a tight smile and his eyes defying. Chanyeol looks down to Malfoy's record, eyes settling down on words he's not even reading and refusing to let go in the hope that it will force Jongdae out, like it did with Junmyeon, but Jongdae doesn't move.

“So the Ministry, uh?” Jongdae asks. “Tonight?”

Chanyeol hums in agreement, reading Lucius Malfoy's name over and over.

“Okay. Okay, I'll let you work then. Good luck, Chanyeol.”

There's some shuffling, followed by faint footfalls that Chanyeol only hears because he was paying attention, and the door closing on Jongdae brings back silence in the room. Chanyeol sighs, refusing to admit that the lingering sting in his heart is him missing Jongdae already, and leans down to press his forehead against the table again. He's not trying to prove anything, mostly trying to fix the mess he's made, but he can't wait until he finally catches Malfoy so he can uses it as an argument against Jongdae. He'll have to prepare a speech so he will be able to brag about it without stuttering at the sight of Jongdae's mocking eye smile, but it'll be worth it.

With a renewed determination, Chanyeol straightens up and starts reading Malfoy's file from the very first page again, but not without thinking about 'Grim Curse' and chuckling a bit before. Jongdae's right, it does fit Kyungsoo.






Chanyeol stops in front of the elevators, and considers taking one of them and go a level lower to inspect the Department of Mysteries, but the thought sends a shudder down his spine. He only worked three years in the Ministry, and it was for his auror training, but he still remembers every corner, and the Department of Mysteries is the scariest of all. He really can't see why Death Eaters would willingly hide in the long and dark corridors, and if they were stupid enough to enter one of the rooms, Chanyeol's surely not going to follow them. If the gloomy faces of the Unspeakables are of any indication, whatever's lurking inside the Department of Mysteries will probably kill every intruder, anyway. Chanyeol isn't unknown to fear, but it's a totally different one that is seizing him right now. Not knowing what could be the threat is like having a wand that doesn't work, and in the end, it takes Chanyeol less than a minute to reject the idea of entering the Department of Mysteries. If there are Death Eaters inside, they'll come out to attack the Minister sooner or later, anyway. Chanyeol will be there to catch them.

He spins around, allowing himself a little sigh in the dead silence of the Ministry, his own heart thumping liquid relief through his whole body as he walks away from the elevator. The meeting isn't happening in the Minister's office, that would make the job easier for possible Death Eaters wanting to attack Harold Minchum, but in a random room in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. A tiny room crowded out with members of the Order, aurors and important people, so Chanyeol is much better patroling around. Kyungsoo is probably still standing in front of the door, his wand lost in one his robes' pockets, but his fingers ready to snap.

Walking through the Ministry in the middle of the night, when the hallways look larger than they are because of the lack of people, is definitely not going to make it on Chanyeol's list of favorite things. He misses the interdepartmental memos to be honest, and the constant chattering of people. At night, with only the sound of his steps to fill his ears, and the reflection of the light coming from the tip of his wand against the walls to catch his eyes, the Ministry doesn't look like a place where people still fight for the good things. Chanyeol would have loved the meeting to happen somewhere else, but decisions are not his to make. He's just there to make sure the Ministry will remain a place where people can still fight for what's right.

“Hey, Chanyeol,” a voice breaks the silence behind his back.

Chanyeol spins around, the Disarming Spell exploding in his mind as he raises his wand, feeling the energy catch between his fingers already. The intruder is as quick to react, and as good at unspoken magic, because Chanyeol faces one of the most powerful Shield Charm he's ever seen. It's so strong actually that it knocks him off his balance, sending him against the nearest wall. He only knows one person able to do that.

“What the fuck Jongdae?!” he snaps, straightening and rubbing his aching shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Jongdae shrugs. “You told me. The Ministry, tonight.”

“No,” Chanyeol immediately retorts. No he's never asked Jongdae to come. The auror-in-training can't stay, not only because of the possible threat, but because Chanyeol needs to be the best tonight, and he can't with Jongdae around. “No, no”, he furiously shakes his head. “You go back home right fucking now.”

Jongdae shrugs for the second time, looking way too nonchalant for where they are. Chanyeol rediscovers the dark shadows casted by the Lumos spell on Jongdae's face, but the feeling couldn't be more different than when they were in the closet. There's no game of black and white that makes Jongdae look like a ghostly apparition, something as difficult to hold back as smoke, only sharp angles made even sharper by pointy shadows. It's drowning Jongdae's eyes in black, spreading on his temples like a Venetian mask, and giving him a dangerous look. Even his smirk looks sharper, almost predatory.

Something twists in Chanyeol's guts.

“Jong--”

Something crashes in the distance, and in the total silence of the Ministry, it's impossible to miss the screams and the explosions. Chanyeol even catches Unforgivable spells, each one of them thrown with a laughing voice, a feminine voice he's almost sure he recognizes.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol mumbles, mind already focused on the small room. He feels the familiar pull in his stomach, as if there was a rope tied to his guts and someone was pulling on it, and knows the next second he'll apparate upstairs. He'll deal with Jongdae later. This time, the mission will have to come first.

But something's wrong, and it happens way too fast for Chanyeol to be able to react. First, it's like he's being hit by a truck, so violently it pins him to the ground, and then the pain explodes. Needles paint white over his eyelids and a spasm, that starts like a shudder in his heart, runs through his limbs, making him release his wand. The back of his head hits the floor, and the scream stuck in the back of his throat turns into a mess of gurgling. The world is upside down, Chanyeol can't see or hear, and he doesn't have the brain capacity to even realise he doesn't understand what's going on at all. He just suffers, and suffers, over and over again.

And then the pain is gone, as fast as it came. Chanyeol takes a sharp intake of air, expecting the pain to come back at the slightest gesture, but it's gone, really gone, and what's left of it is the uncontrollable shaking and the sweat Chanyeol feels gathering on his forehead.

He reaches out for his wand as fast as he can, but just as his fingers brush the wood, he hears a loud Expelliarmus! slice the air, and he watches, petrified, his wand fly away.

Jongdae walks past him, obviously aiming for Chanyeol's wand, but Chanyeol grabs the younger male's ankle and pulls as hard as he can, toppling Jongdae. The latter lands with a loud oumph, and Chanyeol quickly gets on his hands and knees, blocking Jongdae's right wrist under his knee as he stretches his arm to catch his wand. Jongdae groans in pain, unable to move his hand, and stops struggling like a mad man only to throw himself the best he can at Chanyeol's arm, just when the latter finally closes his fingers on his wand. Jongdae bites him, teeth plunging violently in Chanyeol's flesh, and taken aback by the sudden wave of pain, Chanyeol moves away. He realises his mistake a heartbeat too late when Jongdae, with dark and cold eyes, aims his wand at him. Chanyeol raises his, throwing the first spell he thinks about.

“Everte sta--”

Jongdae's voice, louder and more abrupt, interrupts him.

“Diffindo!”

The air turns sharper against Chanyeol's cheek, biting and cold, and the following second, he's crouching down, pressing his palm against his throat as a long cut, starting from his cheekbone and ending on his collarbone, bleeds through his fingers.

“Fuck Jongdae,” he groans in pain, biting his lips.

He hears Jongdae's footsteps getting closer but refuses to look up. It's all too much, the pain, his blood dripping on the floor, and Jongdae, mostly Jongdae, pressing the tip of his wand against Chanyeol's temple. It doesn't make sense, he can't even imagine a world where it would, but the pressure against his temple is real and strong, dangerous. His fingers are still clenched on his own wand, but Chanyeol can't bring himself to raise it, because the world has blown up into tiny pieces, and everything seems too fragile now. He's afraid that moving, even slightly, will make everything crumble down. Above their heads, the battle is still going strong. Chanyeol hopes Kyungsoo is doing better than he is.

Jongdae breathes in, ever so slightly, but Chanyeol hears it like thunder, and he braces himself for what's coming.

“Crucio,” Jongdae murmurs.

Chanyeol never hears Jongdae breathe out. He falls backwards, limbs shaking and heart swelling in his chest, about to explode. The pain is everywhere, strong and all-consuming, and it feels like tiny but burning needles are piercing through each one of his pores. He thinks he hears someone screaming in the distance, but it's barely noticeable over the sound of his bones clashing and cracking. His head is about to burst out with pain, and he's now jerking and twitching so violently that bruises he doesn't even feel, bloom everywhere on his skin.

When Jongdae lowers his wand, Chanyeol curls up on the ground, shaking and sobbing. His throat is hoarse, dry, and it's only then that he realises he was probably the one howling in pain just now. The cut, still bleeding, feels like a bug sting next to the Cruciatus curse, but Chanyeol refuses to let it go. His fingers graze his shirt, lightly, just enough to feel the blood soaking it. He doesn't want to drown in the pain and get lost, and the blood, the cut, will help him find his way out. Because Jongdae is probably not done yet.

“Chanyeol,” thunders Jongdae's voice. “Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol stubbornly shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes.

“Chanyeol! Look at me!”

Chanyeol shakes his head, clenching his fists on the ground. He probably released his wand under the Cruciatus curse, but he won't open his eyes to look for it, because it would give Jongdae satisfaction.

“Go to hell,” he snaps back through gritted teeth.

“Hyung!” Jongdae then screams with a fast flick of the wrist that has Chanyeol's body flying backwards.

He lands up against the wall, the air knocked out of him. Jongdae wins again though, because Chanyeol's eyes are now wide open, bulging as he struggles to breathe in. He catches sight of his wand from the corner of his vision, but knowing Jongdae's fast reflexes, he'll never get to it in time. The latter is walking to him, anyway, and Chanyeol tries to control the wave of panic he feels rising in his chest at the idea of being hit by the Cruciatus curse again. He could beg, but Jongdae is probably too far gone to be moved by Chanyeol's tears. Jongdae's betrayal hurts, it hurts in a deeper way than all the curses Jongdae could ever cast on him. It's not abrupt to come and sudden to withdraw like the pain induced by the Cruciatus curse, it goes past the roots of his own being, and it's so well settled that Chanyeol knows he'll have it curling in his guts like a purring cat for months, years.

Jongdae kneels down before him, and Chanyeol has no other choice than to meet his empty eyes. They couldn't be more different than what he remembers of Jongdae, now devoid of any sparkle, any hint of mischief and self-confidence. They just watch Chanyeol as if someone had turned off the light behind them, and no light means no shadow. There's nothing.

“Jongdae,” Chanyeol murmurs, a cold shudder curling down his spine. Jongdae doesn't blink, doesn't react. “Jongdae,” he says again. “Jongdae, are you under the Imperius curse?”

Jongdae looks down at him, but his mouth remains a tight line, and his eyes pitch black. He raises his wand, slowly, and something tells Chanyeol that the pain will be way shorter this time. Actually, more than pain, he expects a peak of greeen light, and then nothing. His heart turns into liquid metal in his chest, but he can't let go of Jongdae's eyes. He needs to know if he's wasting his last sparkle of hope on Jongdae when all he really should be doing is fearing his upcoming death, and if Jongdae is still the boy who took the auror out of him, after eight long years of being nothing more than a wand and a spell ready to be casted.

Chanyeol cups Jongdae's face, his arms shooting abruptly up in the air, and he misses the look of surprise flying through Jongdae's eyes as he leans in and presses their lips. He's always thought Jongdae's lips would taste like sugar, or candy cotton, that it would match with his curly hair, but reality turns out very different. He feels like he's living again their fight on Jongdae's lips. The salted taste of perspiration above Jongdae's upper lip going with both the fear and hope throbbing through Chanyeol's body. Jongdae's lips are slightly chapped, but Chanyeol doesn't mind, not as much as he minds how glued they feel, like a wall he's trying to break through. He curls his fingers on Jongdae's nape, and nibbles incessantly at the corner of Jongdae's lip. He breathes through his nose, because he can't allow the lack of oxygen to force him to break apart. He can't give up on Jongdae, he will never give up on him.

Everything unravels when Jongdae's lips finally part ever so slightly, and his hand settles on Chanyeol's face, delicate fingers spreading on his cheek. Chanyeol almost pulls away to scream with triumph -because, although he can't get Jongdae back if he's on Voldemort's side, he can get him back from the Imperius curse- but Jongdae's tongue drags him closer into the kiss, and Chanyeol is way too happy to oblige. Maybe he can destabilize Jongdae enough for him to catch his wand and knock off the younger auror. Then, he'll just have to drag him to St Mungo. So he deepens the kiss, hugs Jongdae closer, and pretends he doesn't know Jongdae is once again blowing up his priorities, the most important one being staying alive.

Jongdae finally breaks the kiss with a soft pressure of his palm against Chanyeol's chest, and the latter pulls away, panting and still licking what's left of Jongdae on his own lips. He looks for Jongdae's eyes, and finds them filled with so many things. Jongdae's eyebrows twitch, and his breathing speeds up even more. He's fighting the curse, but no matter how good Jongdae is at Occlumency, it's a tough fight none of them can be sure he'll win.

Chanyeol presses the younger male against his chest.

“I'm here,” he whispers into Jongdae's hair. His voice clashes against the silence. When did the fight stop upstairs? He refuses to think about Kyungsoo for now. Jongdae is shaking in his arms. “It's okay, Jongdae, you can do it, I'm here.” He instinctively switches to Korean and adds. “Jongdae-yah, you need to fight it, you need to come back to me...”

Everything happens almost at the same time. First, the hurried footfalls echoing through the corridors. Then Jongdae's shaking stopping abruptly, and finally, the pressure of his wand against Chanyeol's carotid. He closes his eyes, and everything goes pitch dark.





There's too much light, but now that Chanyeol is awake, that his conscience has started stirring his senses, the urge to fight off the bright luminosity and open his eyes wide is way stronger than the soft burn of the sunlight on his retinas. He manages to croak a weak groan, and frowns at his voice that rasps the back of his throat like sandpape. He keeps grumbling, low and impatient, as he furiously tries to blink away the haziness. He catches faint pink and pale blue between his eyelids, and it forces a smile out of him.

“Pretty sure the pink hair doesn't suit our discretion policy,” he mumbles.

“You need to get up to date, Chanyeol. Our discretion policy kind of died a couple of days ago,” Junmyeon answers, and although Chanyeol's eyes are still closed, his eyelids painted with reddish orange because of the light, he knows his boss is smiling.

“I'm sure you're very sad about being able to put the rainbow colors in your hair now,” Chanyeol snorts. “Metamorphmagi don't really like discretion.”

“You're right,” Junmyeon agrees with a playful tone. “We don't.”

The fire burning the back of Chanyeol's eyelids has now turned into a mellow orange, spreading warmth all over his face. He lets go of the smile tugging at his lips, and finally opens his eyes, pupils immediately settling on Junmyeon's face.

“What happened?” Chanyeol asks, unwillingly.

Junmyeon lets out a long sigh, even though his posture remains noble and straight, both his hands crossed on his lap. He gives a smile at Chanyeol, the smile of a man who spent years of his life building something he's just seen crumbling down at his feet.

“We got attacked by Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband and her brother-in-law. Kyungsoo and the Order managed to beat them back. No one got badly hurt. Kyungsoo found you and Jongdae, and neutralised both of you just in time. You were brought to St Mungo, and you got treated for the after effects of his spell.” Chanyeol snorts. Kyungsoo's spells are indeed quite... neutralizing. “Jongdae is in another wing. He was under the Imperius Curse when he attacked you.”

Chanyeol watches Junmyeon, silent, as he's hit by a wave of relief. It's so strong that it could echo the crucio pain in intensity, standing like its opposite, healing right where the curse attacks. He knows he should brace himself because there's more to come, Junmyeon is sitting like his legs are dangling off the edge of the world and he's considering letting himself fall forward. But Chanyeol finds it too hard. Jongdae was under the Imperius Curse, he never betrayed them—him.

“They're struggling to break the curse, because it's a powerful one. Not knowing who cursed him doesn't really help either, but I managed to talk to Jongdae yesterday, and he told me the last thing he remembers perfectly is talking to Sybill Trelawney.”

Chanyeol freezes, taken aback. “Trelawney?” he gasps. “But that would mean..”

“Yes,” Junmyeon interrupts him. “That long.”

Chanyeol curses under his breath, replaying the scene in his head. He remembers the young wizard bumping into him, and Jongdae disappearing behind the corner. He lost sight of Jongdae less than three minutes, but even one short minute is enough to curse someone. He should have guessed something, the attack wasn't even an attack. The Death Eaters were there, and then the next second back to their poisonous smoke shape. They just blew up a shop and probably waited for them to be near Trelawney so it could look like they were aiming at her, but they weren't. They were there for Jongdae.

Chanyeol shifts on his bed to sit up, and throws a determined look at Junmyeon.

“How is he? When do I get to see him?”

Junmyeon narrows his eyes at him. “Chanyeol,” he thunders.

Chanyeol holds his gaze. “He was under my protection,” he simpers, his lips pouting around the syllables, a trick that he learned from the master of pouts, Kim Jongdae himself.

Against all odds, Junmyeon's serious face falters, and his boss cracks a tiny smile.

“Working those two months with Jongdae has changed you a lot,” he sighs, before straightening up and throwing Chanyeol a more serious look. “But I hope you do realise,” he continues, “that it means our cover's busted. They know who we are, and our affiliation with the Order.”

Chanyeol nods. They've spent so much time working in the shadows, it was only a matter of time before the Death Eaters found out. In all honesty, Chanyeol would have thought it'd happen sooner. It's been nine years already since Junmyeon's office was created. Nine years mean a lot of successful missions.

“It's okay,” Chanyeol says, attempting to soothe the dark look on Junmyeon's face with a tiny smile. “We'll keep fighting. We're official members of the Order now, aren't we?”

Junmyeon nods, lowering his eyes. Chanyeol catches his boss' fingers twitching on his lap, and finally witnesses, taken aback, as Junmyeon reaches and takes his hand. He's usually very professional to the point that Chanyeol has always struggled picturing him inside an appartment, doing simple things just like cooking or reading, because he's always seen Junmyeon plotting, thinking. The last events obviously cracked whatever shell he was hiding under though, but Chanyeol isn't that worried. The shade of pink gracing Junmyeon's hair is way too beautiful, and it screams freedom way too loudly for the shadows currently darkening Junmyeon's face to last. He squeezes Junmyeon's hand between his fingers.

“You should rest,” Junmyeon finally says. He pulls his hand away and stands up. “I need you to be back as fast as you can, so do whatever the nurses ask, okay?”

Chanyeol nods.

“Junmyeon?” he asks just when his boss reaches his bedroom's door. Junmyeon looks around. “You didn't answer. When will I get to see Jongdae?”

Junmyeon sighs, but he looks like he was kind of expecting it.

“I don't know Chanyeol. When they'll be sure the curse has been broken.”

And it's the most unsatisfying answer Chanyeol has ever heard.





part 2

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