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

[exolliarmus]

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





Something hits him, three days later, when he comes back to the headquarters, and witnesses Kyungsoo grumbling against Junmyeon's new policy of stopping solo missions and sending two aurors instead of one for a while. Chanyeol has looked at the whole thing from all angles, gathering hints and pieces of the puzzle while doing so. He's kept replaying everything that happened after the Trelawney disaster in his head, pointing here and there signs that Jongdae wasn't really Jongdae: the big number of failed missions, the unexpected Death Eaters attacks, and Jongdae wanting to go to the Order's headquarters for whatever reasons. The day Jondgae dragged him into the closet and begged him to take him back, he wasn't bending under the weight of his visits to Azkaban, it was the curse talking, it was the possibility of him failing his mission despite being literally forced not to. It was the Imperius pressuring him, and nothing else. Chanyeol has kept replaying every little scene, every moment spent with Jongdae, and he thought that he finally had the whole puzzle figured out. It's only when he catches sight of Kyungsoo glaring at a still smiling Jongin following him that he realises he was wrong. There's still a missing piece.

Kyungsoo has always disliked being teamed up.

Chanyeol darts out of his office like a canonball, not paying attention to Jongin's shocked gasp as he plows into Kyungsoo. The latter yelps when their bodies crash, but Chanyeol doesn't slow down. His fingers glose around the first thing they catch, and he ends up grabbing Kyungsoo's nape to drag him towards the closet. He practically throws Kyungsoo inside, following him and closing the door right after them. The last thing he sees is Jongin's dumbfounded face before he turns around to the darkness and Kyungsoo hissing like a snake about to plunge its fangs deep in Chanyeol's carotid.

“Lumos,” Chanyeol whispers, and the tip of his wand lights up the room, pourring pale blue light on their faces.

Part of him feels like he's profaning the closet by sharing it with Kyungsoo, but he has to remind himself that he never really went there with Jongdae. Chanyeol knows it wasn't him, but he's not ready to let go of everything he felt last time he found himself there. He was cornered againt the back wall, just like Kyungsoo currently is, and the only things he could think of were the shadows gracing Jongdae's face, and just how beautiful he was with nothing more than a few inches between them. Chanyeol still hasn't seen the younger auror, and it feels like trying to breath under water.

“Are you going to tell me what you want or should I curse it out of you?” Kyungsoo asks, blank face and voice nothing more than merely bored. Chanyeol's vision flashes red.

“You knew,” he snaps. Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at him. “You hate having a partner,” Chanyeol goes on. “You would have never asked for Jongdae to be permanently teamed up with you. You knew he was under the Imperius curse.”

Kyungsoo doesn't falter, nor does he try to deny. He just holds Chanyeol's gaze, as cold and strong as usual, but it's enough of a confession for Chanyeol. He can't believe he missed this, can't believe it didn't start a warning bell in his mind, but he knows he's the only one to blame. Things turn even harder to put into perspective than what he first thought when Jongdae is involved.

“I wasn't sure,” Kyungsoo finally says. “But I had doubts. I was ninety eight percent sure.”

Chanyeol clenches his fists, forcing his mind to flash him memories of Kyungsoo fighting. The only reason he's not pushing the other auror against the wall right now is because Kyungsoo doesn't need a wand to cast a spell. He can't win this fight, but the thing is, trying to convince himself that punching Kyungsoo two or three times before he ends up petrified or worse isn't worth it gets harder with every second passing by. Kyungsoo doesn't even look guilty, or scared, or like he regrets what happened.

“He was under the Imperius curse,” Chanyeol tries to keep his voice calm and controlled. It doesn't work. “And you did nothing.”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “He was safe. They wouldn't have killed him, they needed him. And I wanted the ones who cursed him. The only way was to use Jongdae.”

Chanyeol slowly breathes in, then exhales through his nose. He's known Kyungsoo for years, and he knows how the latter works. Jongdae wasn't really far from the truth when he called him the Grim Curse. The war has turned Kyungsoo into a merciless wizard, bordering on cruelty and sometimes even sadism, but Chanyeol supposes having your whole family killed by Voldemort's servants can do that to a man. Maybe Kyungsoo's plan could have worked, he's a great auror after all. Chanyeol refuses to believe Kyungsoo would have willingly sacrificed Jongdae for the sake of catching Voldemort's inner circle's Death Eaters, even though the truth is standing right there, tall and shamless, in Kyungsoo's eyes.

“How did you know?” Chanyeol finally asks him.

“I had doubts already, but when Bellatrix Lestrange attacked us the first time, it became crystal clear. She knew we'd be there, and Jongdae really didn't fight well even though he's an excellent auror. There had been so many failed missions around him already, it was reckless from the Death Eaters. They were so sure we'd get fooled.” Kyungsoo snickers, a sharp and short sound that almost scares Chanyeol. “They're always so sure they're better than us,” he goes on. “Cursing a muggle-born instead of killing him must have been so hard for them.”

“You're talking about Jongdae,” Chanyeol hisses. “Don't talk about Jongdae like that.”

“My mom was a muggle,” Kyungsoo shrugs. “And I'm better than them, smarter and stronger.” He pauses. “Jongdae is better than them.”

Of course Jongdae is better than them, Chanyeol thinks. Jongdae is better than everyone in that office, better than him and better than Kyungsoo. That's exactly why Kyungsoo shouldn't have used him like that, and why Chanyeol should have seen it. He should have realised Jongdae wasn't completely the same, he should have--

“You don't need me for self-loathing,” Kyungsoo jerks him out of his throughts. “I'll go back to work if you don't mind.”

He snatches Chanyeol's wand and draws a quick but precise curve in the air with it, whispering a sharp nox before putting it back between Chanyeol's fingers. The light goes off, plunging them both in the darkness for less than a second as Kyungsoo walks past him, his body, although smaller and thinner, shoving Chanyeol against the wall as if he was a giant. When Kyungsoo finally opens the door, light invades the closet, making it look smaller than what it felt in the darkness.

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol calls out, and Kyungsoo stops, obviously annoyed.

“What?” he snaps back.

“Why didn't I see it?” Chanyeol finally asks, his voice lower than before. For a short second, he thinks he sees something passing through Kyungsoo's eyes, the ghost of a memory, something even darker than the black of his irises. His features soften, barely just enough for his brows to finally unknot, but it's still a major change on Kyungsoo's face. Chanyeol notices for the first time in eight years how round Kyungsoo's cheeks are.

“Because,” Kyungsoo tells him with what look like the shadow of a smile, a broken one. “You don't really see him like an auror, so you didn't see the differences.”

He leaves Chanyeol like that, the end of his sentence still hanging in the air, and the closet's door opened wide. Chanyeol has never felt so out of the world, so indifferent to the comings and goings in the office, and sad, so sad that he wonders for a moment if some Dementors are not currently attacking them. His wand is hanging loosely between his fingers as he tries, just in case, to find a memory happy enough for a patronus. Jongdae flashes through his mind, in shades of grey, with his laugh fading away in London's night sky and his legs dangling off the edge of Chanyeol's balcony. If Dementors really are attacking them, Chanyeol won't be of any help. Missing Jongdae is like drowning and trying to find oxygen in burning lungfuls of water, and Chanyeol's vision is already getting hazy, dark spots invading his eyesight where there should be colors and faces.

“Chanyeol!”

Chanyeol looks around, drawing his attention to Junmyeon, the latter walking straight to him. His boss' eyebrows slightly furrow when he takes in Chanyeol still standing in the closet, but he doesn't ask. His hair is faded orange today, and it surprisingly fits him.

“They broke the curse,” Junmyeon says when he finally reaches Chanyeol. “You're coming with me to St Mungo. Now.”






Jongdae's room is on the fourth floor, and as the Healer-in-charge leads them there, talking about the numerous procedures they had to go through to bring back Jongdae, Chanyeol watches the patients they walk by. Fourth floor is for the Spell Damages, and with the war still raging on outside the hospital, it's the busiest service of St Mungo. Most of the people brought here are almost dead, their robes still smelling like smoke and the tip of their wands still warm from the duels they had to engage to save their lives. Chanyeol heard the Healer-in-charge say Jongdae was okay, he remembers the wave of relief and the lungful of air he was finally able to breathe in, but it's so easy to forget it all as they walk amongst wizards and witches dying, crying, suffering. Junmyeon glances at him, and they exchange a heavy look. Neither of them likes that place very much.

The Healer-in-charge leads them through a double door protected by many defensive spells. St Mungo's head witch has always turned down the Ministry's propositions to send Aurors to protect the hospital, saying that gloomy wizards ready to snap at anyone walking around wouldn't help the patients. Defensive spells and a severe security system, as well as strict guidelines are the only things protecting St Mungo and his patients. Chanyeol has never considered the place safe, and the sooner Jongdae will be out of here, the better.

The Healer-in-charge finally stops before a private room. He has salt and pepper hair, and thick arched eyebrows that give him a constant surprised look, but his voice is certain and professional when he speaks. Chanyeol has made his research already, and Howard Pollingtonious has become Healer-in-charge with the only help of his talent, which is a good thing for both him and Jongdae.

“I know you probably want to interrogate him,” Pollingtonious says. “But I suggest you to go easy on him. It was a complicated curse to break, and it lasted for quite some time. He'll need time to recover.”

The healer's words are obviously meant for Junmyeon, if his piercing blue eyes glued to the latter are of any indication, but Junmyeon doesn't take offend, opting for a short nod instead. Pollingtonious then turns his eyes towards Chanyeol with furrowed eyebrows and disapproval written all over his face. He's probably mistaking Chanyeol's incessant looks at the door for haste to question Jongdae, but Chanyeol couldn't care less. He glares at the healer and goes back to narrowing his eyes at the door, in the hope to see Jongdae through it. Junmyeon discreetly elbows him, but Chanyeol pretends he doesn't feel the sting of pain in his side.

“I'm afraid two visitors at the same time will be too much for him,” Pollingtonious says, obviously dying to throw Chanyeol out of the hospital.

It's a rivalry old as the hills, mediwizards against aurors, and Chanyeol is usually the first one to remind mediwizards that without the aurors, they would have even more patients, so they can quit the act and stop accusing aurors of doing more harm than good. Today's not the day though, so he just look away from the door, frowning at the Healer-in-charge.

“I think it'll be better if you go inside one after the other,” the latter goes on.

“That's actually an excellent idea!” Chanyeol exclaims, fake enthusiasm taking over his face. He saw the opportunity and he took it. He's always been one of the fastest aurors in the office after all. He pats the healer on his shoulder. “I'll go first then. Thank you, Healer Pollingtonious.”

Junmyeon watches him, aghast, as Chanyeol walks to the door. He feels a sting of guilt when anger that Junmyeon is too polite to let explode in the hallway fills his boss' eyes, but Chanyeol is quick to mentally shrug it off. Junmyeon will probably tear him off a strip later, but for now, he gets to see Jongdae. He gets to see Jongdae first.

He flashes one last smile at the Healer and Junmyeon, both glaring at him, and opens the door, heart beating erratically in his chest. Pollingtonious said that Jongdae was back at his usual self, but what if he was wrong? He's never seen Jongdae's usual self after all, so what if he made a mistake? How could a simple mediwizard know that Jongdae sometimes stamps his feet when he laughs, or that he always scrunches up his face when he drinks firewhisky, but licks his lips after a sip of butterbeer? No matter how talented Howard Pollingtonious is, there's no way for him to know who Jongdae is, and who he isn't, and consequently absolutely no way for him to be so sure of his diagnostic. What if Chanyeol enters the room and finds someone who looks like Jongdae in the bed, but who isn't really Jongdae...?

Chanyeol stops dead in his tracks, mouth agape as the door closes without a sound behind him.

“Your hair,” he says dumbly. “You have straight hair.”

Jongdae chuckles, sitting in his bed, with his hands holding the blankets up to his stomach, and long and soft straight locks of hair falling over his eyes. The only things left from the tight curls are the golden brown highlights now catching the light all over Jongdae's face, but it goes so well with the wrinkles maping the corners of Jongdae's eyes, or the feline curl of his lips. Chanyeol's heart falters when Jongdae beams at him for the second time in less than thirty seconds.

“Hi hyung,” Jongdae says. “Do you like it?”

Chanyeol stares at Jongdae's face long enough for Jongdae, yet hardly weirded out, to frown and look at him with confusion.

“Do you...,” Jongdae hesitates. “Should I call you Chanyeol instead?”

Chanyeol furiously shakes his head. “God, no,” he says with a weak chuckle. “Please, don't.”

Jongdae flashes him a little smile before motionning him to come closer, which Chanyeol immediately does. He sits on the chair that was waiting for him next to Jongdae's bed, and lets his eyes inevitably come back to Jongdae's face as he feels his chest swell with something he was really starting to miss lately.

“I did it myself,” Jongdae tells him as he runs his fingers through his hair. Chanyeol watches, mesmerized, as the velvety locks fall back on Jongdae's forehead. “I invented the two charms, one to curl the hair and the other one to straighten it when I was at Hogwarts. I thought it was time for me to look like an auror.”

“Well,” Chanyeol comments. “You did have your first encounter with one of the Unforgivable Curses. You're one of us now.”

Jongdae makes a face, as he lets go of his hair.

“Yeah,” he says, fidgeting with the hem of the blanket. “Sorry about that.”

“Don't be,” Chanyeol says, unable to repress the smile he feels tugging at his lips. Jongdae's eyes narrow at him, and Chanyeol lets out a low chuckle. “I'm sorry, it's just... It's the first time you actually apologize about fucking things up.”

Jongdae snorts. “I never fucked up anything before,” he retorts. “You were always rumbling like a gnome trying to find its way back to the gnome hole, but our missions were always a success.”

Chanyeol bites his lower lip, unable to fight off the bubbly feeling in his stomach as Jongdae pouts and crosses his arms on his chest. It was terrible to live in a world where Kim Jongdae wasn't really Kim Jongdae, so terrible that it left Chanyeol gasping for air and staring at a closet as if it was a temple, but it's surprisingly easy to forget it all. It turns out that Howard Pollingtonious was right, Jongdae is back at being his usual self. He's back at taking so much space that nothing else matters.

“It's not my fault you're a fuddy-duddy and you can't keep up with my methods,” Jongdae pouts. He glares at Chanyeol when the latter starts laughing, and quickly adds. “Besides, I think you owe me some apologies too!”

“What?” Chanyeol's voice cracks around another peal of laughter. “What for?!”

“Because I was keeping our first kiss for the right moment, but you had to waste it on me not even being me.”

Chanyeol's erruption of mirth turns into a coughing fit as he chokes on his own saliva. Jongdae watches him with the shadow of a smile on his thin lips, and a sparkle of mischief in his eyes to finally stick out his chest when Chanyeol tears up, a hand over his mouth.

“Okay, okay, don't die on me,” Jongdae chuckles as he shifts on the bed and reaches out to wrap his fingers around Chanyeol's wrist. “You don't really have to apologize, you know. What you did probably saved your life.”

Chanyeol looks up, blinking away the haziness left by the salty tears now running down his cheeks, and when their eyes meet, Jongdae's fingers tighten around his wrist.

“You know, I don't remember much, but you're in everything I remember,” Jongdae adds, voice lower, softer. He lets go of Chanyeol's wrist and wipes away one of the tears with his thumb. “I remember the closet, kind of.”

Chanyeol watches him, mouth agape, while flashes of Jongdae's dark eyes invade his mind. He remembers the shadows, like long fingers cupping Jongdae's face, and the eyebags weighing down on his eyes, but he also remembers that little something lurking under the surface of Jongdae's irises. He remembers thinking that it wasn't meant to remain hidden, that it was more, but he let go of the thought when Jongdae burried his head in the crook of his neck. That something, well, it was Jongdae.

Chanyeol breathes out, the sound shaky and weak, because he can't stand the oxygen in his lungs right now. It feels like lead solidifying his every cell, and he can't allow himself to freeze right now, not when urgency is raining on him. He pulls Jongdae's hand away from his cheek but keeps it in his own, and his whole body follows the lead. Jongdae scoots over on the bed, leaving just enough space for Chanyeol's body to fit. They've learned so quickly how much space the other needs to exist, and they've spent so many evenings in Chanyeol's appartement cooking together to perfect that knowledge, that the lack of space Jongdae leaves for Chanyeol's long legs is more meaningful than it should be. Jongdae has invaded Chanyeol's personal space so many times, but it's the very first time Chanyeol intrudes on Jongdae's, and that too, is more meaningful than it should be.

Jongdae lets Chanyeol tangle their legs together while he wraps his arms around the older auror. It's a weird position considering that Chanyeol is almost two heads taller than Jongdae, but Jongdae has always had the upper hand after all. Chanyeol smiles as he buries his nose in Jongdae's hair, the latter's hands pressing on his back.

“I was expecting my first visitor to be Junmyeon,” Jongdae murmurs, a few minutes later.

“So did he,” Chanyeol answers, with a slight smirk that he hides in Jongdae's hair.

Jongdae snorts. He mumbles something that Chanyeol doesn't catch, something that sounds like 'so infatuated', but he lets it go, thinking that if he can't deny it without blushing like a teenager girl, he might as well pretend he didn't hear it.

“I know what he's going to ask me,” Jongdae sighs. “But I don't remember. I don't remember who cursed me.”

“It's okay,” Chanyeol shrugs. Jongdae's body, wrapped all around him, follows the motion, and it presses him tighter against Chanyeol. He knows there are absolutely no reason, he knows he's an auror in the middle of the most dangerous war that ever happened in the Wizarding world, and that people are fighting and dying everyday, but he still smiles, with that bubbly feeling filling up his chest again. He feels so happy.

“It's okay,” he repeats as he curls his hand on Jongdae's nape.

He's grinning now, and luckily for him, Jongdae takes way too much space to let the guilt settle in.







The fourth floor, being the busiest floor of St Mungo, never sleeps. Hurt wizards and witches come in waves, and mediwizards scream for help every two seconds. Jongdae fidgets in his bed, throwing glances at the door, and fingers itching to grab his wand. He's been there for a week already, and he only has a couple of days left, but Chanyeol knows Jongdae is losing it, slowly but surely. Whenever he visits, when Junmyeon doesn't send him here or there, he takes Jongdae out of his room, where Jongdae won't have to witness collateral damages of a war he's supposed to be a part of. Most of the time, they end up on the fifth floor, eating a piece of cake in the tearoom, or strolling through the hospital shop. Jongdae's complexion doesn't look as greyish when he's surrounded with healthy and noisy people.

Today is no exception. Chanyeol barely came back from a mission on the borders of Scotland, but he still rushed to the hospital. He'd rather be tired and moody than have Jongdae spending his whole days all alone in that tiny room.

“I think I remember something,” Jongdae says in a thinking voice, his fingers playing with one of his scones.

His skills in hair charms are probably vaster than what he first implied, because he chopped off his hair after Chanyeol's last visit, and his locks, shorter but still as velvety and soft looking, frame his face in a better way now. His eyebrows are back in sight, and right now they're deeply furrowed.

“You know you're supposed to go easy on your memory,” Chanyeol scowls him, but Jondgae merely shrugs at that.

“I am going easy,” Jongdae retorts.

Chanyeol sighs, and when he's sure Jongdae has caught just how much Chanyeol disapproves, he reaches out and takes Jongdae's scone, grumbling while he spreads cherry jam on it. To be perfectly honest, spending time with Jongdae in a crowded place isn't just for the sake Jongdae's mental health. Chanyeol has made so many mistakes since Jongdae barged into his life, and the biggest of them could have cost their defeat, and Jongdae's life. He was a good auror before that, before Jongdae's peals of laughter, and he needs to go back to that. Having Jongdae's curse out of the way is a victory, but it's a small one, and as long as people will keep dying, Chanyeol needs to keep fighting. Jongdae filling up his vision, pushing everything else away where Chanyeol can't see, where it doesn't matter, doesn't help. Chanyeol needs a little distance between them, he needs it to make Jongdae smaller. So instead of hugging him in his bed, he brings him to the tearoom. Instead of reaching out, taking his hand and kissing his fingers, he spreads cherry jams on his scones.

“So, what do you remember?”

Jongdae makes a face while he thinks, and Chanyeol jumps on the occasion to shove the now covered with jam scone in his mouth.

“Hyung,” Jongdae whines, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick the jam on the corner of his mouth. He bites in his scone and puts the other half in Chanyeol's mouth before the latter can protest.

“I'm not sure,” he goes on, unaware of Chanyeol's faint blush spreading on his cheeks. “But I think it may have been a sort of initiation ritual for the wizard who cursed me, you know?”

Chanyeol frowns, gulping down a long sip of tea to help him swallow the scone. It leaves a trail of fire down his throat, but he ignores it, intrigued.

“Like a mission to test a new recruit's motivation?”

Jongdae nods. “I think so.” He leans over the table and takes Chanyeol's cup of tea to blow on the brownish beverage.

“Careful old man, you're gonna burn yourself.”

Chanyeol snorts, but doesn't even try to glare at Jongdae. If he looks up right now, he'll find himself starring at a grinning Jongdae, and Chanyeol will fall into the trap and retort. A little distance, he reminds himself, to make Jongdae smaller. So he takes another scone and furiously spreads some orange marmalade on it.

“What makes you so sure?” he asks, diligently covering the edges of the scone.

“I don't know, it's just a feeling but I'm pretty sure it was a test,” Jongdae answers. He sighs, frustrated. “I can't put my finger on it, but I know it was important.”

Chanyeol glances at Jongdae through his bangs. He puts the knife back on the table, and hands the scone to Jongdae.

“Did you dream about it?”

Jongdae shakes his head, eyeing the scone Chanyeol is holding in front of his mouth.

“Hyung,” he whines. “I don't like orange marmalade.”

“I don't care, the old man wants you to eat it,” Chanyeol snaps back, and Jongdae chuckles. His lips part just enough for Chanyeol to shove the entire scone in his mouth. He tries not to look too pleased with himself as he sips his tea while Jongdae coughs, crumbs raining all over the table.

“Do you think it's linked to that dream you're having?” Chanyeol questions him.

“The one with the man turning into a rat?” Chanyeol nods. “I don't see how it could be linked to be honest, but I have a feeling it is.”

Chanyeol nods for the second time, frowning. Jongdae has been having the same dream since the first night, where a man he's never seen before -a short man with wattery eyes- turns himself into a rat, animagus style, and Chanyeol doesn't think it's a coincidence. Not only because Jongdae's memory is damaged, thus having some of his memories manifesting themselves in a different way, but also because Jongdae is an aurore well trained who graduated with the best grades. If he caught some details, they'll come back eventually, most likely through his dreams.

The only flaw is that they both don't know what the rat-man means.

“Let me recap what we have so far,” Jongdae says, mindlessly licking the tip of the butter knife.

Chanyeol clicks his tongue of the roof of his mouth, and takes the knife, putting the cherry jam spoon in Jongdae's hand instead.

“Now you can recap,” he grumbles, glaring at Jongdae's wide grin.

Jongdae flashes him another eye smile, one of those that send sparkles of electricity in Chanyeol's lower stomach, and that have his heart speeding in his chest. He takes in a long lungful of air as he lowers his eyes. He can't pretend he doesn't notice the way he feels right now, because it's crawling in the lining of his skin, shining in the corner of his vision. No matter how crowded the tearoom is, Jongdae empties it with a single glance. It's not being small, it's everything but being small, and when Jongdae smiles at Chanyeol like that, he turns Chanyeol into something bigger as well. They end up being so much more together, and Chanyeol can't handle it. He's never been able to handle Jongdae.

“Recap,” Chanyeol mumbles, stirring his cup of tea, still refusing to meet Jongdae's eyes.

“Okay, so,” Jongdae starts, as if nothing happened. “They were more than one. Probably because it was an initiation ritual and the more trustable Death Eaters needed to make sure the dirty job was done. Then there's--”

There's a loud gasp behind their backs, followed by the sound of dishes shattering on the floor. They both turn around on their seats to find a mediwitch with a tray now empty in her hands, and what was supposed to be her snack splattered at her feet. She blushes when she meets their eyes, and bites her lower lip, her teeth looking even whiter on her red lipstick.

“I'm sorry,” she stutters, embarrassed.

“It's okay,” Jongdae singsongs as he leans down and swipes his wand at the mess the mediwizard made.

The cup of tea pieces itself together again, and the tea goes back to peacefully steaming inside. The piece of treacle tart crawls back on the tiny plate which flies away, back to the tray still in the mediwitch's hands. She smiles as the napkin, the last thing still on the ground, whirls around in the air and folds itself on the tray in a complex origami of the shape of a bunny.

“Thanks,” she giggles as the bunny jumps around her tray.

“You're welcome,” Jongdae winks at her, and she blushes again.

She eyes him for a short second, and finally hurries to one of the empty tables at the other end of the room. Jongdae turns back towards Chanyeol who quickly looks away, suddenly very immersed in the surface of his tea. He knows better than anyone how Jongdae stumbles around carelessly, bursting other's people's bubbles and making them feel like it's the best thing that could have happened to them, but he ended up forgetting it's who Jongdae is, and not just who he is with Chanyeol. The reminder burns everywhere where healing spells can't reach.

“I don't think I have all the pieces yet,” Jongdae goes on, back to being as serious as he can. “And it definitely looks like a freaking huge puzzle. But I think I should tell the Order. Maybe they have the remaining pieces.”

“You'll have to wait for that,” Chanyeol grumbles. “We still can't contact them.”

Jongdae nods as he takes the last scone on the plate between them. He cuts it in two, obivously lost in his thoughts, and Chanyeol uses his silence -pretty rare when it comes to Jongdae- to try and clean his own. Instead of thinking about the way Jongdae smiled at that mediwitch, he choses to think about the Order. Junmyeon and Dumbledore decided it was safer to cut all ties the week before, just long enough for both sides to make sure no one else was under the Imperius curse. Junmyeon has tested everyone in the office and threw at them dozens of new rules, but for now, they have no idea how the Order's doing.

His thoughts, now in a dead-end, crumble down without him noticing, and the next thing he knows, he's glancing at the mediwitch on the other side of the room. He catches her eyes coming back to Jongdae, and when she notices him, she quickly straightens up. She's too far for Chanyeol to see, but she's probably blushing, the color spreading on her cheeks matching with her lipstick. Chanyeol glares at her.

“Or I don't know,” Jongdae sighs. “I've already made a fool of myself. I think I should wait to find out what that stupid dream means.”

Chanyeol turns his head, and finds the last scone, diligently covered with cherry jam, in front of him. When he looks up, Jongdae is looking at him with his eyes reduced to slits, and his lips spread on a closed smile so sweet and warm that the bubbles are back in Chanyeol's stomach.

This totally doesn't help him make Jondgae smaller.







The Animagus Registry is an incredibly short list, with so little names that they don't even take the whole page. Those six or seven wizards and witches don't leave room for any mistake either, and Chanyeol finds himself glaring at the piece of parchment again. Jongdae gave him the idea three days ago, when he informed Chanyeol that he checked the Registry just in case there would indeed be an Animagus with a rat as their animal form. Upon hearing Jongdae couldn't find anything, Chanyeol decided to take a look at it himself. He's been reading the list for the past three days now, but seven names don't leave room for any mistakes. There isn't a single one rat Animagus, or a mouse one. Not even a shrew. It just validates Jongdae's decision to wait and find out what his dream means before telling the Order, or anyone, but Chanyeol... Chanyeol can't have that.

He hasn't talked to Kyungsoo since their last conversation, because he's still too angry to even look at the one-year younger auror, but the Ministry attack happened almost two weeks ago, and Chanyeol isn't nowhere near catching the wizard who cursed Jongdae. He's starting to grow impatient, and not only because he needs to prove Kyungsoo how wrong he was, that Jongdae's life isn't just a risk he can choose to take. It's starting to get under his skin, because everytime Chanyeol enters Jongdae's room in St Mungo, he's reminded of all the memories Jongdae has been deprived, the days of his life he'll never get back and how easily it would have been for the culprit to kill Jongdae. In all honesty, it's driving him crazy, and that stupid list, with its seven or six names, really doesn't help. That dream has to mean something, because if it's just a dysfunction of Jongdae's memory after the trauma it went through, like Pollingtonious suggested, then it means they have squat.

Chanyeol grumbles, throwing the parchment on his desk. Maybe he's missing something, maybe he's not looking at it at the right angle. He closes his eyes and leans down, until his forehead hits the surface of his desk, and stay there, motionless. He tries not to think about Jongdae and what he could be doing right now, which, of course, reveals to be a lost cause. Jongdae is probably driving the mediziwards taking care of him crazy, his smile and numerous cameos of his pouts being the only reasons why none of them has snapped at him yet. Just the mere idea of Jongdae arguing with the old Pollingtonious -you have to let me go I'm okay there's no side effects give me back my freedom!- manages to loosen the tension in Chanyeol's shoulders.

He breathes in, slowly and multiple times. He needs to draw up a new plan, because he's been in a dead-end for too long now, and it obviously won't lead him anywhere. And he needs to stop thinking about visiting Jongdae every two seconds, that would probably help.

“Park!”

Chanyeol straightens on his chair so fast his neck cracks. His eyes narrow at Kyungsoo standing in front of his desk, but the bitter words get stuck on the back of his throat when he notices Kyungsoo's wand in the latter's hand.

“St Mungo is being attacked,” Kyungsoo tells him. “We need to go, now.”

Before Chanyeol can say anything, Kyungsoo grabs him by the shoulder, and colors turn into powerful winds with a snap, while the air in Chanyeol's lungs solidify, threatening to make them burst. He's always hated disapparating under someone's else control, the sensations already nasty enough like that, but the familiar pull in his stomach now mixed to the rise of a panic attack in his chest bring him to a whole new level of sickness. Kyungsoo's digits dig deeper into the flesh of his shoulder, and Chanyeol finally closes his eyes, the kaleidoscope of colors blinding him through his eyelids. They land abruptly—well, Chanyeol does. He loses his balance, his body still sitting at the memory of his desk, and falls backwards. Kyungsoo merely throws him a look, his round eyes already scanning the room.

His own wand ready to spurt lightnings, Chanyeol looks around, still on the floor. They're in the fourth floor's lobby, and the place is a mess.

“Get up,” Kyungsoo grumbles, but he doesn't even let Chanyeol a chance to get back on his feet by himself. He grabs him by the shoulder again, and pulls him up with a strong grip. Chanyeol is two heads taller than him, but Kyungsoo manhandles him so easily it's disturbing. He tightens his fingers around Chanyeol's shirt and pulls him closer, just in time to avoid a collision with a running wizard.

“Two of you?!,” a very infuriated Pollingtonious barks, stopping before them. “Our hospital is being attacked, and only two of you are sent?!”

Chanyeol glares at Kyungsoo as he shakes him off, before facing Pollingtonious. He's usually sent on more discreet missions, when Death Eaters lurk in the dark more than when they barge into other people's daily life, but he's still seen that scene a billion times already. St Mungo is supposed to be a safe place, that's what he can read on everyone's face, except that it's not, and they're learning it the hard way. Someone bumps into him, but they're gone before Chanyeol looks over his shoulder. They're all running around, like mice trying to escape from a hungry cat, and it would be pathetic, even laughable, if Chanyeol's legs weren't itching with the same need to dash off.

“What happened?” he asks the Healer-in-charge.

“We're being attacked by a bunch of Death Eathers, that's what is happening!” Pollingtonious snaps back at him. The old man's veins are so swollen Chanyeol can see them thumping along with his heartbeat on his temples. “They just apparated here and they went through the doors,” he gestures towards the double doors leading the protected wing of the fourth floor. “We have some patients that can't move, you know! How only two of you could--”

“When was it?” Kyungsoo cuts him, sharp and looking so not affected by Pollingtonious' anger that the latter starts huffing and puffing, fingers clenched on his wand. “How long has it been since they apparated?” Kyungsoo repeats, urging.

He clashes violently against the panicked background, so solid and consistent, so much that people avoid him without even thinking about it when they keep bumping into Chanyeol. Some of them are getting closer, glancing then staring at Kyungsoo, irremediably attracted by the control radiating from Kyungsoo. Pollingtonious seems immune though, because Kyungsoo's calm only makes him flare his nostrils even more.

“Five minutes?” he ventures.

Chanyeol grabs Kyungsoo's elbow, and the latter looks back at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Five minutes,” Chanyeol repeats, and Kyungsoo nods.

“I overheard Mungo Bonham's painting telling Junmyeon about the attack,” Kyungsoo explains. “You know him, he would never send anyone without a semblance of tactics. They'll be there soon.”

Chanyeol nods, his body moving without his consent as he risks a step back. Kyungsoo's eyes narrow at him.

“They're still here so you'll have to be careful,” he reminds Chanyeol

That's all he needs. He turns on his heels and darts towards the double door, elbowing his way through the mass of people. Pollingtonious' screams follow him, high pitched and reaching a whole new level of anger, but they lose a bit of their panache in the sea of people opening before Chanyeol.

“What are you doing?! You're all alone and you don't even know where--”

Chanyeol runs through the double door, and it swallows the end of the Healer-in-charge's sentence, the protection spell guarding it being soundproof as well. If he wasn't so dead scared right now, pins and needles of icy fear piercing his skin at every strides of his long legs, he'd be snorting at those spells supposed to protect the patients. They obviously didn't do much against the Death Eaters, and they probably barely slowed them at all. Which means that, in the five minutes they've been there already, they have most surely reached Jongdae's room, who represents the only reason why a bunch of Death Eaters would take the risk to raid St Mungo.

Kyungsoo's right, Junmyeon's team will be there in less than five minutes, but it takes less than one to curse someone, and they both know it. Most of the time, Kyungsoo is difficult to decode, but Chanyeol has been working with him for years now, and there are things he's learned at Kyungsoo's expense. Once again, the most important one being that Kyungsoo hates working in pair, he hates having to slow down and be careful, but he still took Chanyeol with him. It's obviously not in the name of their friendship, since Chanyeol hasn't spoken to him in days. This Kyungsoo, the stiff Kyungsoo clenching his jaws and snapping at him, will be the closest thing to an apologetic Kyungsoo Chanyeol will get, but it's more than enough.

Chanyeol barges into Jongdae's corridor and, carried away by his own speed, he crashes against the wall. His brain barely registers the pain as he regains his balance by using the wall as a support, still running towards Jongdae's room. He enters it with his wand raised high, and a litany of the most aggressive spells ready to go past his lips.

Jongdae's bed is empty. His blankets are dangling off the edge of his bed, as if someone has jumped out of it with their legs still tangled in the sheets. Irregular burn marks are painting the walls, next to Chanyeol's head, and next to the bed, and the air tingles on the back of Chanyeol's tongue, heavy with the aftermath of strong and powerful spells. The most obvious sign that a fight happened here though, is the body lying on the floor, next to the bed.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol mumbles as he crouches down next to the corpse.

It's the blushing and giggling nurse from the other day. Her beautiful hair, so blond it's almost white, is spread out under her head, like a pillow. She wears the same lipstick –crimson red over white teeth- and she looks at the ceiling as if it caught her off guard and affronted her at the same time, the coldness in her blue eyes the only thing left of what was probably a deep glare. The pieces click together with a loud snap in Chanyeol's head when his eyes settle on the Dark Mark on her arm.

“Jongdae,” he whispers, glancing at the sheets hanging off the bed. Memories of Jongdae plunging under the meeting room's table and dodging Chanyeol's charms flash through his mind, and a tiny smile pulls up at the corner of his lips. Jongdae probably heard the commotion, and he was quick to react.

Chanyeol glances back at the nurse, at her carefully painted nails and the wand still in her hand. She probably didn't have the time to cast a spell of any sort. She lead the other Death Eaters in Jongdae's room, expecting an easy kill, but Jongdae was prepared.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol repeats as he leaves the nurse behind, and runs out of the room.

She heard that Jongdae was trying to remember who cursed him, and they obviously don't want Jongdae to win over the confusion left by the Imperius curse.

The protective spells surrounding this wing of the fourth floor keep people from apparating and disapparating, which is both a good and a bad thing right now. It means that Jongdae is close, but also that he's unable to magically flee from his asaillants. St Mungo is huge though, only a condemned department store on the outside, but a building large enough to welcome and treat the whole wizarding population of Britain on the inside, and there are too many intersections. At the fifth one, Chanyeol slides with a squeaking of his sole and finally comes to a halt, erratic breathing burning his lungs, and legs both begging him to keep running and about to give in. He eyes his two options -right or left- and bites hard on his lower lip, fingers tightening around his wand so much that his knuckles turn white.

“Okay,” he exhales, eyes going back and forth from the left corridor to the right one. He feels his veins swell with the adrenaline his neurous system has kept producing for the past ten minutes, and the ticking in his mind is still as loud, sharper with every second passing by. Jongdae has been alone with very determined Death Eaters for at least thirteen minutes now.

“Okay,” he repeats before pressing the tip of his wand on his vocal chords. He breathes in as much air as he can, and lets the seven letters explode in both his mind and the corridor.

“JONGDAE!”

His voice echoes through the wing, thunders in the walls, and probably attracts every Death Eater in the hospital, but Chanyeol couldn't care less. He needs a sign, anything, and if it has to come in the form of a black-robed wizard coming out from the left -or right- corridor, he'll gladly take it.

Suddenly, he hears it. It's a faint sound, a distant voice, but Chanyeol would recognize it in a blink of an eyes. Oddly enough, as he rushes through the left corridor, eagerly following the shadow of Jongdae's last intonations, he finds himself thinking about the closet, and how low and tired Jongdae's voice had been at that moment. He's running faster than he's ever run, white spots filling his vision and his breath long lost. His mind is growing stronger though, as Chanyeol musters the cold determination one needs to cast an Unforgivable curse. He's never done it, even since Bartemius Crouch's edict allowed aurors to employ them against their enemies, but he knows how they work. He'll kill whoever he'll find with Jongdae.

He barges into an umpteenth corridor, now following more than just the memory of Jongdae's voice, since crashing and sizzling sounds are echoing all around him. They're both urging, signs that the fight is still in full swing, and relieving, because they prove Jongdae is still standing his ground. It feels like the noise is getting closer with every corridor Chanyeol runs through, and farther away because there's always a new corridor.. Jongdae feels more out of reach than ever, but now's not the time for him to slip out of Chanyeol's hands again.

Chanyeol is half panting, half sobbing, panic swelling in his chest at a dangerous pace, when someone bursts out of a door a few meters ahead of him. Chanyeol sees his eyes widening through the silver mask he wears, and the absence of wand in his hand. The Death Eater rushes to the end of the corridor, but Chanyeol is already aiming at him.

He unleashes the anger, the fear and the numerous pictures of Jongdae laughing and smiling invading his mind, and raises his wand, the articulation in his wrist prickling at the old and dangerous magic he's about to employ. The Death Eater shields himself with his arms probably realising that he won't make it to the corner, but it won't make any difference, and Chanyeol almost rejoices at this, the shadow of the killing curse already bitter in his mind.

“Avada kedavra!”

The green spurting out of the tip of Chanyeol's wand is of a pale shade of viridian, shaky and elusive, far from the deep emerald he's seen countless of times. He knows it's not going to do much even before it hits the black-robed wizard in the middle of his back. The latter falls forward with a yelp, with probably nothing more than a nosebleed, and it angers Chanyeol even more. He doesn't care about rightful anger, or nerve, or dark magic, he just wants that wizard dead. So when the latter stumbles back on his feet and dashes off, almost plunging behind the corner to flee, Chanyeol follows with clenched jaws. The Death Eather is unarmed, and he can't disapparate. Chanyeol is a fast runner.

He musters his strength, tries to focus on the right shade of green this time, and convinces his mind he really wants this as he launches himself behind the Death Eater.

But then he hears it. Someone groans in the room, followed by a thud and another pained moan.

Chanyeol blinks, surprised, and glances at the room the Death Eater came from, only realising now that the spell sounds have stopped, because he obviously had the last of Jongdae's asaillants right before him. He glances at the end of the corridor, still trying to catch his breath. He has one of Voldemort's minions desarmed and powerless only a few steps ahead, and even though Chanyeol doubts Voldemort would have sent someone from his inner circle of followers in the trap that is St Mungo, the Death Eater could still have some pretty useful informations to confess once he'll be motivated, with the threat of a Dementor's kiss for example.

On the other hand, Jongdae is in the room, and from the sounds Chanyeol catches, he's still alive, but probably hurt and bleeding, and...

Chanyeol deflates. He's never been much of an auror near Jondgae, anyway.

Without another glance at the corridor, he turns on his heels and closes the distance between him and the room. The distant steps he can hear resonating in the silence around him tell him the Death Eater is running for his life, and Chanyeol lets him. He hurries into the room and grimaces at the mess inside.

There's not a single piece of furniture that hasn't blown up, and the marks on the walls, probably still warm, infect the oxygen and leave a burning taste on the back of Chanyeol's tongue. Some sections of the walls have fallen to the ground, projeting flowers made of plaster on the ground, and the ceiling is striated with friable cracks. The window is now glassless, and the noise of the muggle street comes in muffled and barely louder than a whisper because of the concealment spells hiding the hospital. Chanyeol stumbles over a slat, and avoids the fall by stuggering deeper into the room, furiously waving his arms to regain his balance. He gasps when a piece of wall raises itself, grumbling and panting, and the surprise has him falling once and for all, straight onto the piece of plaster.

“Ouch!”

Chanyeol's eyes widen. He gets back up on his knees and hastens to pull away the piece of wall. Another pair of hands come to help him, and Chanyeol catches them as soon as soon as he can. Right there, lying down between his thights and half of his face covered with a thin layer of plaster, tiny particles of white dust caught in his lashes and eyebrows, and the other half sticky with blood and perspiration, is Jongdae.

Chanyeol bites his lower lip as he takes in the scratches and burn marks all over Jongdae's face with his heart thumping painfully loud in his chest.

“Jongdae,” he breathes, pulling his hand out of Jongdae's fingers to bring it to the latter's face. He hovers the sharp line of his cheekbone, and frowns when Jongdae flashes him a grin, making the cut on his cheek bleed a little more.

“You think I'm in a bad state?” Jongdae chirps. He wiggles his eyebrows at Chanyeol. “Then you should see them.”

Chanyeol stares, bewildered. Jongdae's bangs are dripping blood straight onto Jongdae's forehead, but that idiot still looks infuriatingly smug. Chanyeol lets go of his hands and straightens, his knees still bracketing Jongdae's small waist.

“You—I can't believe you, are you fucking for real, I just--,” Chanyeol snaps.

He groans and leans down, pressing his lips against Jongdae's growing grin, in the hope that it would swipe away the pleased look plastered on Jongdae's face. He quickly forgets to pull away and check if it did when Jongdae kisses him back though, and soon enough, Chanyeol is sliding his right hand along Jongdae's neckline. His fingers stroke fondly Jongdae's jawline before stopping on his chin and tilting his head backwards for a better access to his lips. Jongdae breathes out through his nose at the gesture and raises a hand to curl his fingers on Chanyeol's nape as he parts his lips with a soft whine. Chanyeol's lips are barely moving, his nerve endings already on fire just at the simple peck, but the attraction is too strong, and he finds himself darting his tongue out curiously. Jongdae puts his free hand over Chanyeol's on his face and links their fingers, his thumb stroking softly Chanyeol's wrist.

Chanyeol has to pull away for air before they get a chance to really deepen the kiss, his heart thumping against his ribcage, but he refuses to let go. He grabs Jongdae by the shoulders and pulls him up against his chest, wrapping him into a tight embrace. Jongdae is so small against him, his body so delicate that Chanyeol's palm covers the back of his head, and it has his whole body shrinking, pressing itself harder against Jongdae and trying to fill the slighest space left between them. Jongdae locks his arms on the small of Chanyeol's back, his whole face pressed against Chanyeol's chest.

Chanyeol hears the rumpus of footsteps getting closer, but when they stop at the door behind him, he doesn't pull away, instead holding Jongdae tighter against him.

“Don't stay there,” he groans disapprovingly and commanding. “They're probably gone already but at least try to catch them.”

Someone sighs, and the footsteps break the silence again, this time getting more distant with every second passing by. From the speed, Chanyeol guesses that Jongin is the one who sighed, but he can't really be sure. All he knows is that it wasn't Kyungsoo, otherwise he would have been grabbed by the scruff of the neck and thrown back into the pursuit of Death Eaters already. Junmyeon and the others are probably surrounding the protected wing, trying to intercept the Death Eaters. They were attacking one person, a whole group of Death Eaters against a single man, a patient in a hospital on top of that, and it doesn't take a genius to know that they were cowards. And cowards flee the second they lose their advantages.

Chanyeol slightly turns his head to kiss Jongdae's temple softly. Kyungsoo may have saved Jongdae's life. Everything could have been so different if Chanyeol had arrived only two minutes later, but Chanyeol doesn't want to dwell on that. Jongdae is solid and strong against him, all curves and delicate lines, and for once, he's not slipping away. Chanyeol kisses the end of his eyebrow again, and Jongdae hums in pleasure.

“You should kiss me again,” he tells him, his voice muffled against Chanyeol's chest. “On the lips.”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol mumbles, but he kisses Jongdae's closed eyelid anyway.







Chanyeol feels a rush of bubbly and light sensations swell in his chest, and he grumbles, glaring over his shoulder at Junmyeon's patronus, a graceful and mischievous-looking white ermine that keeps hoping around the circle of aurors. Everytime it gets closer, Chanyeol is flooded by the most random moments he shared with Jongdae, from the meetings in St Mungo's tea room to the late night debriefings with Junmyeon. In all honesty, Chanyeol has finally given in to Jongdae and stopped lying to himself about his feelings, so he would gladly bask in the bright light of these memories, but now's just not the time. Jongdae is a few steps ahead, sitting on a stool with his blood still running down his face while Soojung is examinating him, and he'd rather focus on that Jondgae, the real one, instead of running after Junmyeon's patronus. Soojung is a great auror, but what makes her better than most of them is how talented she is with healing spells. Jongdae is way safer here, in the security of their office and between Soojung's hands, than in that hospital with stupid and useless protective spells.

“Chanyeol” Junmyeon scowls him. “Stop trying to kick my patronus.”

Chanyeol grumbles under his breath, but lets Junmyeon's ermine slide between his ankles as he draws back his attention on Jongdae, the latter eyeing Soojung while she examines the long cut along his hairline. Chanyeol leans down over her shoulder, and makes a face at the wound, gripping her arm tighly. Soojung closes her eyes.

“Junmyeon,” she says, thunder threatening to explode in the fake peacefulness of her voice. “Tell him to stand back before I stab him in the eye with my wand.”

Jongin chuckles in his back, and Chanyeol turns around to glare at him.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon sighs. “Let Soojung work, would you?”

“Hyung,” Jongdae intervenes. “I'm okay, so just... please. You're embarrassing,” he whines.

“I feel like I'm the only one realising what just happened?” Chanyeol snaps. “He got attacked in fucking St Mungo! A bunch of Death Eaters tried to kill him, and they almost did!”

“Happened to me no later than this morning,” Kyungsoo says with a blank voice. “And I didn't make a big deal out of it.”

This time, Kyungsoo is the one glaring at Jongin when the latter starts chuckling again, but it's way more efficiant than Chanyeol, since Jongin straightens and gulps down, bitting his inner cheek.

“The point is,” Kyungsoo continues, narrowing his eyes at Jongin whose lips twitch around the smile he's so desperate to let out. Kyungsoo finally gives in and turns around, strong eyes piercing Chanyeol and holding him in place. “It's our job. His job. It will happen again.”

Chanyeol clenches his fists, ready to protest, but Jongdae cuts him short by grabbing one of his hands out of the blue. Chanyeol quickly forgets the words he wanted to throw at Kyungsoo, and stares at Jongdae's fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Thank you for your intervention, Kyungsoo,” Jongdae sighs, rolling his eyes.

He winces when Soojung presses the tip of her wand against the cut on his forehead and scrunches his nose as the edges of the wound slowly get closer, magic sewing new cells where there was nothing the instant before. Chanyeol rotates his wrist between Jongdae's fingers, and closes his own around the latter's bony wrist. His chest swells when he catches Jongdae's pulse with his fingertips, and he looks away, his heart slightly speeding up. It's the first physical contact they share since the kiss earlier in St Mungo, and it's a very chaste one, but it's a stronger one, somehow. There's no destruction around them, no death threats anymore, there's just Chanyeol and Jongdae, and if they're holding hands, it just means that they want to. And it's just confusing because it was Jongdae reaching out to him, and not Chanyeol. Now that he has Jongdae's hand though, he's not going to let go.

“So what?” Chanyeol finally ask, sligthly deflating. The tension in his shoulders loosens up, and he glances down at Jongdae who's already watching him with a tiny smile. Chanyeol sighs and looks at Junmyeon. “What are we going to do?”

Junmyeon merely shrugs.

“What is there to do? It's not like we can go full vendetta on You-Know-Who.” He pauses and frowns under his new bangs, longer, slightly curled and of a dark shade of plum. “He probably sent the Death Eaters for a reason though...” he trails off, looking at Jongdae.

The latter nods, willingly stretching his free arm so Soojung can take a look at it.

“The nurse. She was a Death Eater, and she heard me saying that I was starting to remember things. I think they do not want me to.”

Junmyeon's eyes go from Chanyeol to Jongdae, insistent and maybe a little angry. He leans closer, his patronus adopting the same position, its tiny nose directed straight at Jongdae.

“And do you?” Junmyeon asks. “Remember, I mean.”

There's a veil of darkness falling over Jongdae's face, like a sudden night eating away daylight, and he shakes his head.

“No. I thought I did. I had some flashbacks, and I even had a recurrent dream, but it stopped. I think it was just some after effects of the curse...”

Junmyeon deflates, and the shadows in Jongdae's eyes grow darker. It kind of takes Chanyeol by surprise, because Jongdae had been pretty positive about his lack of memory until now, and the look of vulnerability in his eyes right now doesn't match the blazing smiles he used to flash Chanyeol. No one is reacting, Chanyeol realises, no one is patting Jongdae on the shoulder and telling him that it's okay, because no one has noticed the slight frown on Jongdae's face or how he's lowering his head. No one, except him, and it makes the hand holding so personal, even secretive although they're not hiding. Chanyeol squeezes Jongdae's hand slightly, and the latter squeezes back. Chanyeol can see the shadow of a smile tugging at Jongdae's lips through the latter's bangs.

Junmyeon sighs, obviously disappointed. He puts one knee on the ground, and his patronus waddles closer. It puts its tiny paws on Junmyeon's knee and raises its head toward its creator.

“You heard everything,” Junmyeon tells the ermine. “You can go tell the Order.”

The patronus turns on its heels and starts galloping, up and up, until it's running through the window, straight into the night. It leaves with the smile that had starting to bloom on Junmyeon's face, and probably with the lingering and sweet taste of happy memories it had given everyone. Chanyeol, though, doesn't feel the difference, his whole body focused on Jongdae's hand in his.

“Okay, I'm done,” Soojung says, putting down her wand. “I've taken care of the cuts and the bleeding. As for the scratches and the bruises...” She trails off and looks at Jongdae, flashing him one of her special winks, one of those that suddenly remind everyone how young she is. “You're a big boy, you'll survive.”

Chanyeol snorts, narrowing his eyes at the scratches on Jongdae's cheek. Soojung glares at him.

“You, on the other hand....”

“Thank you Soojung,” Jongdae chuckles. He glances at Junmyeon. “I'll just go home and sleep for a day or two now,” he jokes. “And I'll be back, ready for a new mission. Is that okay with you?”

Junmyeon nods with a tiny smile. “Take your time.”

“No,” Chanyeol frowns, sending Junmyeon a disapproving and disappointed look. “No, it's not okay. What if they're waiting for him at his place? He needs someone to watch over him. No,” he repeats, determined. He looks at Jongdae. “You're coming with me. I'll take care of you, and I'll be there if someone has the very bad idea to attack you.”

“He fought off six Death Eaters today, Chanyeol,” Jongin teases him. “I'm pretty sure he doesn't –”

“Okay,” Jongdae beams. “Okay.”

Jongin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and this time, Kyungsoo is the one chuckling at his expression of confusion while Chanyeol helps Jongdae back on his feet. The following second, they're gone with a snap, and Jongin is left frowning in the middle of the room.

“Six Death Eaters,” he muses. “Six!”

Soojung sighs, playfully shoving him.

“You're a fucking lost cause,” she grumbles.






“You know, Soojung's really talented, and she made a great job treating me” Jongdae says with an underlying teasing tone when Chanyeol hands him his third piece of chocolate, but he still diligently takes it. “She left the scratches and bruises because they don't really hurt, so I'm not sure what justifies the fact that I almost ate a whole bar of chocolate.”

Chanyeol finds it hard to glare at Jongdae and hope the latter would finally choke on his questions, like he used too. Things were already slowly turning into something else, but since the kiss earlier, they're now standing million miles away to where they were before, and Chanyeol is in complete darkness. He knows Jongdae is feeling it too, how different things are, because his hand has been resting on the couch next to him, palm facing the ceiling, since Chanyeol sat him there with a thick blanket. He regularly spreads his fingers, when he knows Chanyeol will catch the gesture, but he doesn't say anything about it. Chanyeol keeps avoiding Jongdae's eyes, no matter how clumsy and awkward it makes him look considering that he's sitting on the coffee table just before Jongdae, because he's still not sure how to react. Until then, they've been playing that weird game of push and pull where Jongdae was both the hunter and the prey, and it feels odd to have him reaching out so simply now.

“It's for the emotional scars,” Chanyeol mumbles, his eyes settling everywhere but on Jongdae's face.

“My mental's doing just fine,” Jongdae chuckles. “You do remember I've been trained to fight and arrest dark wizards, right?”

The words spill into Chanyeol's mouth before he can stop them. “You killed the nurse,” he says.

He winces internally when he realises how blunth his voice has sounded, and risks a glance at Jongdae. The latter has lost his grin in favor of a smaller one, a weaker one.

“I did,” Jongdae nods, his face apparently devoid of regrets.

That, right now, is exactly what turns Chanyeol, an almost thirty year old seasoned auror, into a blushing and confused man. It took him so long to understand how Jongdae works, but even now that he thinks he's finally getting it, Jongdae still catches him off guard everytime he opens his mouth. He navigates so easily between feelings and emotions, so intense and just so fast that Chanyeol struggles to follow him. He's made of layers, as hypnotizing as a kaleidoscope, but as prompt to give people nasty headaches.

“Don't you...” Chanyeol hesitates under Jongdae's strong gaze. He remembers his own curse, the pale green light and the anger, bitting and poisonous, taking over his whole body. Now that he's sitting in the calm of his appartment, a healthy Jongdae, aside from a few scratches, right before him, Chanyeol can't really fathom how he got to the point of casting the Avada Kedavra. In all honesty, it kind of scares him and confuses him, but Jongdae has been so... calm about it, and Chanyeol wants to know how.

“I don't know,” he continues. “How did you...?”

Jongdae shrugs. He bites on the corner of the large piece of chocolate Chanyeol gave him, and sighs.

“I heard them in the corridor,” he finally explains. “They weren't exactly being discreet. They killed a mediwizard just down the hallway, and it gave me the time I needed. I hid behind my bed, and I waited. When I saw the nurse, I understood why they were here for—certainly not for cursing me again. And there was six of them, so I just... I just did it.”

Chanyeol frowns, not noticing how he leaned in to eagerly drink each one of Jongdae's words.

“Just like that?” he asks. “You just casted the curse, and it worked?”

Jongdae nods, holding Chanyeol's gaze as the latter eyes him cautiously. He knows Kyungsoo regularly uses the Unforgivable Curses, just like he knows Jongin has always refused to. He wonders what would happen if Jongin tried to cast the Avada Kedavra, if he would be more like him, or more like Jongdae.

“I tried to employ it,” Chanyeol finally blurts out. “But it didn't work. The Death Eater just fell.”

Jongdae wordlessly watches him for a few seconds. Then he breaks his piece of chocolate in two and hands Chanyeol the other half, still silent. Chanyeol bites a huge chank, for emotional scars, and savors the sweet taste as well as the warmth spreading in his body when he swallows.

“Do you think I'm a bad person...?” Jongdae finally asks in a whisper voice.

It's a new layer, Chanyeol realises, a new color in the intricate mix of things that Jongdae is, and just like everything else he is, it hits Chanyeol at full speed, knocking the air out of him. Jongdae's hand has left the couch and is now curling on the white blanket he's maintaining on his shoulders, and his eyes, usually so strong and intense, are now hooded with fragility and fear. He looks so delicate and tiny under that blanket, the bones of his wrists jutting out, and he's never looked any younger than that before. Just a twenty one year old boy, Chanyeol has to remind himself. It's usually so easy to forget, but now...

He reaches out and takes Jongdae's hand in his, untangling his curled fingers to slide his between them, stroking along his palm as he does so.

“You're not,” he assures him with a strong voice. “You're a powerful wizard, and you did what you had to do to survive.” Chanyeol pauses, eyes catching the fluttering of Jongdae's long lashes under his bangs. “I'm glad you did,” he finally whispers. “I'm glad you're okay.”

Jongdae looks up, the intensity back in his eyes.

“I'm glad you found me,” he says. “They heard you, that's what made them run away... Hyung, without you... I was so scared.”

Chanyeol tightens his fingers around Jongdae's wrist. “Don't go back,” he begs him. “Stay there, just... don't go back.”

Jongdae's face breaks into a tiny smile, and it's enough for Chanyeol to understand that it's over, the confessions, the fragility. He can't find it in himself to regret what he said though, although he knows Jongdae would never quit. In a way, they're both similar when it comes to their jobs. They know the risks, but they just gladly take them, and there are times Chanyeol even thinks they're here for the risks. He knows it was a stupid and very selfish request, because the Death Eaters are after all of them and not just Jongdae, but he also knows that Jongdae got the most important. As why Chanyeol asked him that.

Jongdae softly tugs on Chanyeol's hand, pulling him closer until Chanyeol has no other choice than to sit down on the couch next to him. Jongdae immediately curls up against him, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He considers his last piece of chocolate and looks up at Chanyeol. He delicately presses his thumb against the corner of Chanyeol's mouth, forcing him to part his lips, and puts the chocolat between them, smiling when Chanyeol wraps his tongue around it to take it deeper into his mouth.

“For emotional scars,” Jongdae tells him with a fond smile. His thumb lingers on Chanyeol's lower lip, but he finally breaks away, and goes back to curling up against him.

Chanyeol wraps his arms around him as he lies down on the couch, Jongdae against his torse. He watches him fall asleep, how the black of his eyes turns almost greyish as Jongdae's gaze becomes hooded with sleep, and keeps listening to his slow breathing even long after Jongdae has closed his eyes. The bubbly feeling is back in his chest, swelling and warm, but this time, it's acompanied with something not so nice. Chanyeol tries to distract himself from the fear with how pretty and mesmerizing Jongdae is, and how much he wants to kiss every mole on his face. He doesn't sleep well that night.








Chanyeol's eyes follow the ballet of pink memos flying from Jongin's office to Kyungsoo's, finding a little relief in the tiny wings flapping. It's almost hypnotizing, from the little fluttering sounds to the grumbles he can hear in Kyungsoo office everytime a new paper bird flies through his door. When Junmyeon allowed solo's missions again a few weeks ago, Kyungsoo was more than happy to ditch Jongin and his incessant and too cheerful chatting. Jongin had obviously grown quite fond of the grumpy auror though, because he's spent every minute of his free time during those past few weeks bothering Kyungsoo and making sure the latter wouldn't forget about him. It's a miracle honestly, how Kyungsoo hasn't snapped at Jongin yet—because stupefying Jonging and leaving him lying motionless in the office for the night hardly counts as payback when it comes to Kyungsoo. Especially since Jongin resumed with greater intensity once Chanyeol casted the counterspell on him the day after (and he had filled his empty stomach with chinese take-outs).

In all honesty, Chanyeol couldn't care less about Kyungsoo's struggles right now, but the latter's annoyance offers a nice distraction to the mess of dark thoughts thundering in his mind. Since Kyungsoo came to take him to St Mungo two months ago, they're back on being in good terms, whatever it means when it comes to Kyungsoo's ideas of friendship, but Chanyeol couldn't be farther away from friendly advices right now. He checks his watch for the third time in apparently less than two minutes, and his determination to remain calm breaks in two.

He gets up, pushing his chair away so violently it almost falls overs, and walks straight to Junmyeon's office with half a mind to scream his frustration at the latter. He has to dodge a blazing memo gushing out of Kyungsoo's office, straight into Jongin's but the faint smell of burnt hair and Jongin's protests don't slow him down.

He told Junmyeon when the latter gave Jongdae his first solo mission, he told him it was too soon. Jongdae shouldn't even be in Great Britain anymore anyway. Junmyeon proposed him to leave for France and work over there, since Jongdae's name is obviously scribbled on Voldemort's list, but Jongdae turned down the offer with a carefree shrug. In Chanyeol's opinion, Junmyeon didn't insist much when he should have, because Jongdae is young and determined, and he has a really bad tendency to think that his ability to cross the limits and come back safe and sound means that all the limits can—should be crossed. He's worked twice harder since he came back from St Mungo two months ago, and his results have been admirable, so, of course, Junmyeon would want to keep him in his team. But Junmyeon was too prompt to forget that Chanyeol has always been there to make sure Jongdae didn't get himself killed. Well, he was always there, because Junmyeon has given Jongdae his first solo mission, and now Jongdae is ten minutes late.

He walks into the main room, and glances through the window walls of the meeting room to check if Junmyeon is there. He keeps grumbling under his breath about how it was stupid and careless, and if Junmyeon felt like he had to prove something to the Order, he could have gone with anyone else than Jongdae. Irene hasn't been sent on a mission in a week, even though she's one of the best, but Junmyeon had to send Jongdae.

Chanyeol turns back, now aiming for Irene's office, thinking that if she ignores where Junmyeon is, she will at least indulge him and badmouth their boss with him. Knowing Irene, one week in the office drove her crazy, and she'll probably be the most aggressive of the two, forcing Chanyeol to hold her back. He's pretty sure she'll find him a way to make Junmyeon at least confess where he's sent Jongdae though, so that Chanyeol can go and bring Jongdae back.

“Psssssst, hyung! Psssssst pssssssst!”

Chanyeol stops dead in his tracks, eyebrows furrowing, and turns his head right and left, before widening his eyes.

“Jongdae?” he stutters, bewildered.

Jongdae's laughing face flashes him a fake scowl from behing the slightly opened door of the closet, and he presses his index finger on his mouth to shush him.

“Come here,” Jongdae mouths him, and after a wink full of mischief, he steps deeper into the closet.

Confused, Chanyeol checks right and left if someone caught their exchange, but it's been a busy day, and almost everyone is outside. Eyebrows knitted together, he walks to the closet, and pushes the door, still lost and confused. The pale blue light of a Lumos charm spilling out of Jongdae's wand greets him inside, along with Jongdae's dark eyes silently asking him to close the door behind him, which Chanyeol does, puzzled.

“What are you doing here?” he says as aggressively as he can, considering that he's whispering. He has no idea why he's not screaming at Jongdae though, but the closet looks so small and secretive.

“I was so worried,” he goes on, bitting. “Did everything go well? Have you seen Junmyeon yet? What about your debrief? Have you debriefed the mission?”

Jongdae sighs with a knowing smile as he steps closer to Chanyeol, and the sudden proximity, mixed with the shadows erasing the walls and the reminders of an outside world, has Chanyeol stuttering and finally shutting up. Jongdae is looking at him with an all-knowing smirk as he draws closer. He's so small that he has to tilt his head backwards to maintain the eye contact between them, but Chanyeol is the one who feels tiny and even shrinking when their chests press together. Jongdae takes one of his hand and puts it on his hipbone before wrapping his arms around Chanyeol's waist.

“I wanted to tell you first,” he finally says.

His eyes are shining brigther than the magic light coming from his wand, and the shadows are back on his face, this time more delicate and light on Jongdae's skin. They seem to be pourring from his lashes everytime Jongdae blinks, and they gather at the feline corner of his lips when he smiles. Chanyeol unconsciously spreads his fingers on the younger's hipbone. His index finger catches on the hem of Jongdae's shirt, and his breath gets stuck in the back of his throat.

“Tell me what?” Chanyeol asks when he finally registers Jongdae's words.

Jongdae beams at him, his eyes reducing to slits and drowning in the shadows spreading on his temples. His eyebrows curve the way only Jongdae's eyebrows can, reminding Chanyeol how distracting they can be. At least, back when Jongdae's hair was curly, some of his tight curls used to fall over his forehead and hide them, but now, Jongdae's hair is short and often styled up. And his eyebrows keep doing things. Chanyeol can't believe his heart is beating faster just at the sight of them.

“That I'm awesome,” Jongdae grins. “I'm amazing.”

Chanyeol frowns, confused.

“You're awesome?” he repeats, puzzled.

Jongdae furiously nods, fingers tightening around Chanyeol's biceps.

“Hell yeah I am,” he chuckles. “That mission was a piece of cake, and I've done one hell of a job. Junmyeon probably already knows how awesome I am since he gave me that mission, but I'll still tell him again, just to make sure. You, though... I think you need a reminder.”

Chanyeol watches Jongdae, how his eyes shine at every word he lets out, so fast that he almost forgets to breathe, and only realises then that Jongdae is high on adrenaline. He should be relieved because Jongdae's first solo mission obviously went well, but it's another feeling that floods him and tugs at his heart. The way Jongdae stays in motion, be it with the slight strokes of his fingers on Chanyeol's arm, or the way he swings on his feet to be able to look straight into Chanyeol's eyes is so entertaining. He's honestly so beautiful, from the smile his lips keep flashing him, to the wrinkles maping the corners of his eyes. They haven't been in the closet since that time, and it's all so different. Jongdae's voice easily fills the closet—his intonations, words and syllables so huge they take all the air away from Chanyeol; and he's making the walls useless because the world has been shrinking to fit only in the curves of his body.

“So I'm reminding you that I'm awesome,” Jongdae continues, face scrunched up with mischief, and Chanyeol's heart swells. “Tonight, I'm going to come at your place with a bottle of firewhisky, and you're going to let me kiss you. And you'll kiss me too because I'm too amazing to be kissed only twice. Especially if one time was to save your life, and the second time because you got scared for mine, like, come on hyung.”

Chanyeol is horrified to feel the embarrassing bite of warmth spreading on his cheeks, and even more horrified to see that Jongdae hasn't missed it, if his huge grin is any indication.

“Jongdae,” he mumbles, flustered. “You're still under the rush of adrenaline.”

“No. Yes. Probably. I don't know. It's not important, hyung!” Jongdae whines.

“What is, then?” Chanyeol grumbles, trying as hard as he can to look annoyed at Jongdae, like he's been since the very first day they met, when in truth he hasn't stopped thinking about Jongdae's lips for the past few weeks.

“I told you,” Jongdae sighs. “I'm awesome, that's what's important. I'll do one hell of job for every mission Junmyeon will give me, and I'll never let anyone curse me again. I'm going to survive this war, and I'm going to do it with you, because I'm awesome enough not to care about your age, or the fact that you have a stick up your ass—”

“Jongdae,” Chanyeol groans.

“Honestly hyung, you really do have a stick up your ass.”

“Jongdae!”

Jongdae chuckles, the sound a strange mix of coarse snorts and aery muffled peals of laughter. It fills the closet, and rings through Chanyeol's ears, waking up the bubbles in his stomach. He closes his eyes with a faint sigh, but there's no escaping Jongdae, because the latter is painted all over his eyelids, in a kaleidoscope of pale colors left there by the faint blue light. The only way to get ride of Jongdae would be to step back and leave the closet, but Chanyeol can't bring himself to do it. He can feel the warm skin of Jongdae's stomach under his fingertips, smell the hint of vanilla radiating from Jongdae's hair, and the best is knowing that when he'll open his eyes, Jongdae will be looking at him, and him only, with those perfectly round and so dark pupils.

So Chanyeol does, he opens his eyes, and Jondgae is watching him with a little smile, beautiful in all the right and wrong ways, and the bubbles in Chanyeol's chest swell, shiny and as large as his heart now.

“Jongdae,” he says again in a whisper. His hand instinctively slides deeper under Jongdae's shirt until his palm is pressed against the latter's lower stomach. Chanyeol feels Jongdae's muscles tightening ever so slightly while he clenches his fingers tighter around Chanyeol's arms.

“But the most important,” Jongdae continues, his voice softer, lower, “is that if you think the adrenaline is speaking, I'm willing to say it all again and again until you're left with zero excuses.”

Chanyeol smiles. “Because you're awesome?”

Jongdae shrugs, faking modesty. The shadows follow the slight tilt of his head and run all over his face to finally escape along his neckline.

“Something like that,” he teases.

Chanyeol sighs, his smile clashing with how annoyed he's trying to look, but he leans down just the same to press his forehead against Jongdae's. The latter gets up on his tip toes, too impatient to let Chanyeol come to him, and breathes out longly and deeply when their forehead finally press together. He brings a hand up to cup Chanyeol's face while the other slides along his nape and curls there, warm and overwhelming. Chanyeol fears he'll break him in two with how small Jondgae's waist is, and how tight he's holding it, but Jongdae still breathes long and slow as if he hadn't breathed for too long as he presses himself even tighter against Chanyeol. He's already standing on his tiptoes, but he keeps stretching himself up, so much that he loses his balance and uses Chanyeol's body for support. The latter grabs Jongdae's thigh to hold him in place, lowering a little more so that Jongdae's feet can go back on the ground. Jongdae mistakes his gesture for the start of a kiss, and he leans in, slightly pursing his lips.

Chanyeol freezes, and Jongdae closes his eyes and pinches his lips together to try and refrain his laughter. Chanyeol chuckles, closes the distance, and kisses Jongdae until the latter's smile has bloomed under his lips.

“You're pretty awesome too,” Jongdae tells him, beaming, as soon as Chanyeol breaks away.

“Even if I have a stick up my ass?”

“Well,” Jongdae shrugs. “You have a pretty great ass, so —”

Chanyeol shuts him up with another kiss, his cheeks warming under the deep blush he feels spreading on his face again, and Jongdae's low chuckles vibrate against his lips. Soon enough though, the noises Jongdae makes become more breathy, and the warmth sticking to Chanyeol's skin doesn't come from Jondgae's teasings anymore, but from the latter's eagerness and impatience. There's something exhilarating stealing Jongdae's words and kissing the air out of him, but even wrapped around Chanyeol and tiptoeing to reach the latter's lips, Jongdae remains Jongdae. He's always had this ability to burst other's people bubbles and bend the limits of their lives to make himself a little room, and he's been taking more and more space into Chanyeol's bubble, so much that Chanyeol can't remember a time when his existence, the space around him, wasn't made of Jongdae.

And, well, it is pretty awesome.








Jongdae's skin appears darker than what it really is under London's artificial lights. The tan he got from the really hot summer is barely starting to fade away, sunburn-induced freckles still popping out on the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones when he stays under the stun for too long, but the skin of his thighs is still pale, milky. In the darkness of their bedroom, they usually stand out, translucent and delicate, but tonight, they look golden and grainy, and Chanyeol can't stop goggling at them. If tonight was like any other night, Chanyeol would already be running his hand down one of them to finally slip his fingers under Jongdae's shorts, but tonight is different. The atmosphere is quieter, solemner. When Chanyeol looks up, he meets Jongdae's eyes heavy on him, both serious and amused at the same time.

“Hyung,” Jongdae scowls him. He scoots closer though, shifting his legs carelessly thrown over Chanyeol's lap when they sat down on the balcony half an hour ago, so his shorts would go up, revealing more of his thighs.

Chanyeol groans. Jongdae has finally ended up calling him Chanyeol or Yeol, but the hyung pops out from time to time, with a whole new palette of intonations, from the teasing tone to the darker innuendo, heavy with lust and irresistible attraction. Tonight being a different night though, Jondgae's hyung comes hushed, almost out of breath, and Chanyeol shifts closer. He rests a palm on Jongdae's thigh, taking the glass of Ogden's Old Firewhisky Jongdae hands him with the other, and keeps his eyes glued to Jondgae's as they clink glasses.

None of them drink the amber coloured drink though, because the night sky suddenly errupts into a shower of shooting stars far above the roofs of London's house. Flashes of golden lights bloom on their pupils as they watch the magic stars fall down and fade into darkness.

“Dedalus Diggle?” Jongdae says, and Chanyeol snorts.

“Probably,” he sighs. “He did it down in Kent as well earlier, I heard they sent an Obliviator, but Diggle probably didn't get more than a warning. Nobody will get into trouble for celebrating today.”

Jongdae nods, lost in his thoughts. He watches the remaining stars whirling around before bursting out into tiny sparkles with his hand clenched around his glass. Any other night would have had Chanyeol slowly leaning in to kiss Jongdae's thinking look away and running his fingers on his face to erase the wrinkles maping it, but tonight... well, tonight is definitely different.

Jongdae turns around, feeling Chanyeol's eyes on him. He flashes him a faint smile and raises his glass.

“To Harry Potter,” he says. “The boy who lived.”

Chanyeol nods, clinks their glasses for the second time.

“To Harry Potter.”

The alchohol, even stronger than a plain glass of Firewhisky, floods Chanyeol's mouth and licks his tongue in burning and heavy waves. He gulps it all down, his eyes wetting under his closed eyelids and makes a face when he swallows the last sip, the fire in his mouth scorching the back of his throat and his trachea. When he opens his eyes, Jongdae is putting away his own glass, as empty as Chanyeol, his eyebrows knitted together as he refrain a shriek of disgust. Chanyeol chuckles softly, and Jongdae looks up.

Last time they drank something that strong and intoxicating, they were sharing the bottle with members of the Order. With James and Lily Potter.

Something darker than the natural color of Jongdae's pupils fall on his eyes for a short minute. He leans in, his hand already cupping Chanyeol's face, and presses their lips, the tip of his tongue lingering on Chanyeol's upper lip. Chanyeol puts down his glass and brings Jongdae closer, his hand now under Jongdae's shorts, and the other curling on his nape.

Jongdae leaves a trail of butterfly kisses down Chanyeol's neck, then finally resting his head on the older male's collarbone with a deep sigh.

“Do you think he's really dead?” he asks, soflty.

Chanyeol hugs him closer.

“No.”

Jongdae lets out a faint chuckle. “It's okay. We'll be there to kick his ass when he'll come back.”

Chanyeol smiles softly as he runs his fingers through Jongdae's hair, his nails slightly scraping Jongdae's scalp. He's hit by a wave of vanilla shampoo, and can't resist the sudden need to lean down and bury his nose in Jongdae's black hair. Jongdae leans into the touch with a pleased sigh, and they huddle together to fight off the fresh air of the Halloween night.

Chanyeol presses his lips against the end of Jongdae's right eyebrow.

“We will,” he promises. He feels Jongdae's eyebrow move under his lips as the latter smiles. “We will,” he repeats as he takes Jongdae by the chin and pulls him closer to kiss him.


 
LEAVE COMMENTS ON LIVEJOURNAL ♥