#44: One Step, Enough

[exolliarmus]

►username: anonymous
►prompt #: 44
►title: one step, enough
►pairings: Chanyeol/Kyungsoo
►rating: PG-13
►word count: 13.5k
►summary: It’s the fifth consecutive year Chanyeol opts to stay behind for the holidays, and Kyungsoo is kind of – maybe – not really his dirty little secret.
►author's notes: sorry I couldn’t live up to the possibilities your prompt could have brought, OP ;~; hope you still enjoy!





It's raining outside.

Chanyeol stares balefully at the window, huddled under his comforter and looking as miserable as an owl forced to carry mail in the middle of a snowstorm. He's swaddled in a bunch of borrowed sweaters and sneezing and coughing at turns, getting sick all over everyone else's clothes. There's a hint of green and silver under Junmyeon's bright yellow scarf that stands out suspiciously, a sign that would make their Head Boy cry foul if he sees it; Baekhyun hasn't commented on it yet, at least, but he looks like he really wants to know.

Whatever. It's not like Chanyeol lives to serve as their source of entertainment, especially not when the dickheads he calls friends are doing nothing to soothe his inner turmoil.

"Stop glaring at the rain," Jongdae pipes up, sounding bored even as he goes through the latest Arithmancy homework that has everyone in their year crying over textbooks and running on zero sleep. As a Ravenclaw, he isn't really supposed to be shacked up in Chanyeol and Baekhyun's dorm room, but their dorm mates have learned early on that it's better to turn a blind eye than to get hexed for snitching. "It's not gonna stop just because you want it to, you know."

"It's a reflection of my soul," Chanyeol snipes, scrunching his nose up. "This is me, crying inside while my friends are abandoning me for the holidays."

"No one is leaving until tomorrow," says Baekhyun, rolling his eyes. He grunts as he yanks his chest drawer closer, peering inside to check for anything rotting or dead to bring home to his brother. "Get over yourself, drama queen."

"Poor, sick me," Chanyeol broods, "friendless and alone."

Baekhyun throws a sock at him, and Chanyeol yelps, scooting back until his head hits the wall. Jongdae cackles and turns a page.

"You could always go home," says Jongdae. "That way, Yura-noona would fawn over you and fatten you up with porridge."

"Don't wanna," Chanyeol grumbles. He closes his eyes and flings an arm over his face. "I'm gonna get too out of shape if I go back."

"Right, because disillusionment charms don't exist," says Baekhyun. "And don't even get started about your Muggle paranoia about getting caught by the school, as if that's stopped you before."

Jongdae and Baekhyun share a significant look over Chanyeol's head, the same one they've been giving each other since Chanyeol rejected their suggestion to spend the holidays with them. "I still don't get why you don't just go back with us for a few weeks," says Jongdae. "Baekhyun has a huge backyard, we could be playing quidditch every day."

"We'd never go back," says Chanyeol. "Baekbeom-hyung would just keep me locked up in there forever."

For a pureblood, Baekhyun's brother has a strange fascination for Muggles that never fails to serve as a family shame to their parents, who, while otherwise perfectly nice and amiable, are less receptive of the non-magical aspect of the world. They're getting better, or so Baekhyun claims, but still not enough to convince Chanyeol to overstay his welcome.

"Hey," says Baekhyun, cuffing the back of Chanyeol's head, the action a sharp contrast to his soft smile, "the offer still stands, you know."

"I know," says Chanyeol, returning the grin with an unconvincing pout. Illness does him no favors in improving his penchant for dramatics, but at least his friends are inherently too soft-hearted even as prone as they are to merciless mockery. "Now, if you were really my bros, you'd steal some food for me from the kitchens."

"You're only nice to us when you want something," Baekhyun complains.

"User-friendly," says Jongdae, nodding even as he stands up, "like a damn Apple product."

"A what?" Baekhyun asks.

Chanyeol and Jongdae sigh, aggrieved. "Never mind," says Jongdae. "Just help me distract some house elves while I go find some soup."





Chanyeol sleeps through Baekhyun and Jongdae's farewells, too wrung out and in the last dredges of his cold to be bothered to wake up. They've left him with a bowl of congee and presents with self-detonating bombs warning him not to open before Christmas OR ELSE, like the little shits they are. The parchment stuck under Jongdae's parcel is a note from Junmyeon promising to send his gift by Christmas Eve.

Chanyeol eats the congee and fiddles with the boxes before he shoves them under his bed. Theoretically, he could figure out its contents if he puts his mind to it, but he wouldn't put it past Jongdae to charm his present into clawing out his eyes if he does. (He's tried before, in third year; he doesn't want to relive the experience all over again.) Instead, he wraps himself up in as many coats as he can steal from his dorm mates' closets, and stalks out of the Gryffindor wing and into the halls.

The thing is, Chanyeol could always go home. His mother has been waiting for years for him to show up for the holidays, what with his choice of boarding school not being conducive to Skype calls or even just texts. His sister has taken to using owls despite being continually weirded out by the magical aspect of her brother's life. He knows they miss him almost as much as he's missed them the first month, which is saying a lot considering how much time he's spent faking not-crying in his dorm room and wanting to go home every day until he met his friends. It's just.

It's just that he doesn't want a repeat of first year, the one and only time he'd gone home for the break, and had to live with lying to his closest friends and neighbors about what he's actually been doing with his life the moment he hit eleven and got the acceptance letter in the mail. He couldn't look at Jino for days when he'd asked, wounded, about why he wasn't replying to any of his calls, texts, or emails; Chanyeol's never been a good enough liar to make up for the strain. Summer vacation, he thinks, is enough heartache for a year, so why add Christmas misery to the list of his woes?

Junmyeon and Baekhyun don't get it; they're both from pureblood families and have little to conceal to the rest of their social circle, although Junmyeon has a penchant for picking up Muggle technology quickly, far too entranced with the idea of smartphones and shiny things. Jongdae doesn't really understand it either, despite his father being a Muggle; he, at least, has the luxury of growing up in a fairly magic-friendly neighborhood where Hogwarts is a prestigious name and doesn't draw a blank from anyone that asks. For a fair bit of time in their younger years, Chanyeol had resented them for it, even if it hadn't been their fault. It was just a bit easier to feel bad about yourself in comparison to everyone else.

There's only one other person that understands where Chanyeol comes from, in his circle of friends. Statistically speaking, there could be more in their year, but Chanyeol has an admittedly narrow view of the world and an even more limited sense of camaraderie despite his supposed sociability. Besides, being miserable over the holidays is practically a tradition by now -- no amount of residual cheer is going to draw him out of his annual anti-social funk.

He pokes his head into the library and finds Kyungsoo gnawing on a sugar quill as he flips through a magazine, legs propped up on the table and chair tilted so far back Chanyeol's sure he would fall if he barges in on him. So he does exactly that.

"Oh great," says Chanyeol, hands coming up to shake the back of Kyungsoo's chair, "you have food!"

Kyungsoo sighs, aggrieved, even as he tips his chair forward, like he's been expecting this for a while. He rolls up his magazine and swats Chanyeol with it, despite Chanyeol's protests. "You started it," Kyungsoo points out, if only to silence Chanyeol's whining.

"I'm a sick person," Chanyeol defends himself. He lets out a fake sniffle, for good measure. "You should be handling me with care." Chanyeol reaches out to yank a sugar quill from Kyungsoo's pack, but Kyungsoo points a wand at him threateningly. "That's not fair, why can't you feed me for once?"

"Candy isn't food," says Kyungsoo, managing to sound less disparaging than the disapproving frown he gives Chanyeol.

"We're gonna be together for a long time and this is how you treat me," Chanyeol mopes.

Kyungsoo's glare softens, at that; for all his intimidating expressions, he can be grudgingly gentle when he least realizes it. "Not going home either?" Kyungsoo asks.

Kyungsoo is a half-blood, one of the few from his entire house, and it's only his perennially intimidating aura that fends off the more vindictive Slytherins from daring to pick a fight over it. Unlike Jongdae, he'd grown up sheltered from magic by a Muggle father mourning over the absence of his long-dead wife; it's a story that Chanyeol's always chalked up as a potential Korean drama in the making, to Kyungsoo's eternal distaste, and Chanyeol should feel more guilty about it if he weren't so glad for Kyungsoo's presence.

"I was thinking you'd miss me too much," Chanyeol offers, lamely.

Kyungsoo's lips curve up into a smile, faint, but amused. He picks up a stick of candy and presses the tip to Chanyeol's mouth; Chanyeol can taste the sugar on his lip, but the tartness on his tongue is something else that sticks to his throat long after, disappearing only when Kyungsoo finally averts his eyes.

"Speak for yourself," says Kyungsoo. "It'd be nice to have a quiet break for once."

Kyungsoo is trying and failing to keep the grin off of his face, but Chanyeol doesn't call him out on the lie. Instead, he rests his head against Kyungsoo's shoulder and dozes off for the entire afternoon, lulled to sleep by Kyungsoo's humming and the steady fingers threading through his hair.

This, he thinks, is only a fraction of why he doesn't ever go back for the holidays, but it's on the very bottom of his shortlist, no matter what anyone else thinks; Baekhyun could suck it.





Kyungsoo plies him with antibiotics ("I didn't smuggle it from home, if that's what you're implying," Kyungsoo protests, despite Chanyeol's teasing. "That's it, I'm never giving you anything again.") and by day two of the break Chanyeol feels less fuzzy and off-kilter. As an added bonus, there are no rain clouds in the distance, the ground still covered in white from last night's snowfall; Chanyeol and Kyungsoo brave the slush and grime and head out to the field after breakfast.

Against Kyungsoo's better judgment, Chanyeol takes his broom out and goes for a couple of laps around the castle despite the chill. When he alights to the ground, Kyungsoo is patting down the final touches of his snowman, wrapped up in his scarf and Chanyeol's hat. The animated snowman blinks its charcoal eyes blearily at Kyungsoo, regarding Chanyeol warily.

"Hey," says Chanyeol, looking offended at the snowman's apparel, "I was wearing that."

"It's my scarf," says Kyungsoo, and the snowman beams, triumphant. "I can do whatever I want with it."

Chanyeol doesn't point out that it's his snapback, because Kyungsoo looks too pleased with his handiwork. The flush on Kyungsoo's ears and the red of his cheeks, he can mistake for something else, but Chanyeol bites his tongue. As much as Kyungsoo pretends to be above snowball fights and forming angels on the snow, he's still a kid, deep inside, and it makes Chanyeol's chest clench with something like affection.

Chanyeol wonders what Baekhyun would say, if he knew -- inasmuch as Baekhyun and Kyungsoo used to bicker infamously in Potions class when they were younger, Chanyeol knows that they're both a little too fond of each other to keep up the pretense. Still, they're awkward in the ways that people with limited reasons to spend time together are, and Chanyeol doesn't know how to feel anything but conflicted about that.

Chanyeol doesn't know what to feel about a lot of things when it comes to Kyungsoo. It's the curse of being fifteen and hormonal, he supposes; he can't wait to be done with the year, if only to feel better about himself.

"I guess you can," Chanyeol grumbles. He pulls at the gloves on his hand and stuffs it inside the pocket of his jeans, and Kyungsoo watches him, wordlessly. "I'm cold," Chanyeol complains instead, holding out his bare hand.

"You have gloves," says Kyungsoo, exasperated, but he lets Chanyeol link their fingers together anyway.

This part isn't anything new; Chanyeol suspects that Kyungsoo considers him as starved for affection without the incessant attention of his friends to smother him, the way Jongdae and Baekhyun press up against him in the Great Hall as they go over their latest prank on Junmyeon or steal answers from Jongdae's homework; but it's not like that, he wants to say. Wants to lean closer and press up against Kyungsoo's side until he can pick out the number of moles and freckles across Kyungsoo's skin, tiny pinpricks that map out his imperfections with proximity. Wants to look at Kyungsoo without having to hide under the guise of a smile and a shoddy excuse to come closer, even if Baekhyun and Jongdae will never let him live it down.

It's the dangerous part of forming attachments, he guesses. He can't compose himself when he needs to the most.

Kyungsoo lets him do it anyway, and as much as it makes Chanyeol feel uncertain, it also teaches him how to hope

"Wanna go to Hogsmeade this weekend?" Chanyeol asks, struck stupid by a fit of courage.

"Only if you buy me peppermint frogs," says Kyungsoo.

Chanyeol's grip on Kyungsoo's hand tightens, like a promise.





Chanyeol ends up buying a pack of peppermint frogs, chocolate wands, exploding bonbons to replace Baekhyun's stash, and more cauldron cakes than he knows what to do with. He and Kyungsoo suck on liquorice wands as they make their way to Dominic Maestro's, Chanyeol complaining all the while about how going out with Kyungsoo is doing no favors to his wallet.

"Honeydukes is the worst," Chanyeol mutters. "It's like going to Lotte and kissing your won goodbye."

"Let's not talk about exchange rates, even," Kyungsoo laughs. He detaches his mouth from the candy with a 'pop' that reminds Chanyeol not to stare, god, don't be weird, Chanyeol, and doesn't look repentant about the state of Chanyeol's finances at all. "It's bad enough that we have to change from won to pounds and then to galleons."

"I thought you lived in London," says Chanyeol. He pushes open the door to the music shop and motions for Kyungsoo to step inside before he shuts it behind them.

"No way," says Kyungsoo, shaking his head. "My dad works in Seoul, so I had to take a flight before I learned how to use Floo powder to get around."

They argue over fair prices and bemoan the horrors of booking anything without a laptop and a working Wi-Fi connection with a couple of second years staring at them, bemused. Browsing around Dominic Maestro's does nothing for either of them, and they stop window-shopping long enough for the sales clerk to stop glaring at them for making too much noise -- well, mostly Chanyeol, because Kyungsoo is incapable of being as loud, but still.

"You know what I miss?" Chanyeol muses, fiddling with his cap. "My iPod, that's what."

Kyungsoo lets out an involuntary bark of laughter, the bow of his lips thinning out with the force of his smile. "I remember that," he says.

They'd been first years, then, and Chanyeol had brought with him a hand-me-down iPod from his sister. Kyungsoo had stumbled on him in the library, bent over and glaring at his dead music player. Chanyeol had been shorter than him, even, before he'd shot up in third year and loomed over Kyungsoo -- when Kyungsoo had stared down at him, Chanyeol had almost felt intimidated by his probing eyes. His expression, blank and unsmiling. The green of his scarf stark even in the dim light.

"What are you doing?" Kyungsoo had asked, nonplussed.

"I was hoping it'd work during the holidays," Chanyeol had grumbled, opening his palms and revealing an iPod long-dead and useless. His wand lay at his side, propped up on a book on electric currents. High marks in Science in his primary school years had done nothing for advanced magical theories on electricity, it seemed.

"That's not how Hogwarts works," Kyungsoo had said, not unkindly, and it had made Chanyeol flush with embarrassment until Kyungsoo had taken out an MP3 player and an AAA battery from his bag. "Come on, this'll probably get us through the rest of the afternoon."

It didn't, but it did get Chanyeol a new friend, albeit one he never would have approached otherwise. Maybe without the prospect of spending the holidays together, they would never have spoken; even in shared classes, Chanyeol would stick with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo with his house mates. Still, they were two awkward first years from different houses stuck together because no senior would actually be caught dead wanting to hang out with kids, and even the ones that did want to take first years under their wing had already gone home for the holidays. It had seemed like the logical course of action to stick together in solidarity and the regret of missing out on the latest pop music.

Kyungsoo still intimidates him, now, but for entirely different reasons -- the kind that threatens to constrict his lungs and crush his heart with fondness. If Baekhyun offers him the novelty of magic and Jongdae the promise of straddling two worlds without going completely bat shit crazy, then Kyungsoo lets him have fragments of his life before. They bond over kpop and bemoaning not having a steady stream of Running Man episodes to pass the time with, not when they can barely get their phones to work properly inside the school grounds, and it's yet another one of those things that Chanyeol's friends don't really get -- how, as much as he hates the reminder of everything he's forced to leave behind in the Muggle world, he still grasps at straws in an effort to keep some things he can't let go just yet.

He wonders if that's how Kyungsoo sees him, too; like lost boys struggling to keep afloat in a brave new world.

"I was a pretty stupid kid, wasn't I?" Chanyeol muses, squaring his shoulders and looking wistfully at the sky, cloudless and clear.

"It wasn't so bad," says Kyungsoo, shrugging. "At least now we have power banks to keep us going for some time."

It just reminds him of his power bank, long since drained before October. Even then, he'd had to opt for using it outside school grounds. "Man," says Chanyeol, "I wish we could play video games at the dorm. There's only so much quidditch I can take before I go stir-crazy."

"Don't let Lu Han-hyung or Minseok-hyung hear you say that," says Kyungsoo. He shifts his weight to his other leg, shuffling in his position. He looks like he's considering something, like there's something he wants to ask. Chanyeol waits for him, like he always does; he can be patient about a few things, and he's always been patient for Kyungsoo, who mulls on his words and weighs it at turns. "Let's go get tea," says Kyungsoo, finally, and Chanyeol's eyes follow his hand, pointing at distant shop.

"Um," says Chanyeol. "Isn't that place supposed to be for...?"

Couples, he doesn't say, but Kyungsoo's expression remains serene despite the hint of red on his ears. It's an innocent enough suggestion, and Chanyeol might be jumping to too many conclusions; they don't have the danger of a crowd of students, and Kyungsoo could just really want a drink, but still --

Madam Puddifoot's is no Starbucks, that's all Chanyeol is saying.

"I want peppermint," Kyungsoo insists.

"I bought you peppermint frogs."

"Please?" Kyungsoo wheedles, jutting his lower lip out.

For a guy that claims to hate acting cute, he knows how to do it to his advantage. And, really, how could Chanyeol say no to that?





Chanyeol wakes up the next day to Baekhyun's insufferable owl pecking him awake; it's an unfortunate consequence of not shutting the windows last night, too tired and wound up to even bother. From the angry red marks on his cheek, he seriously regrets it.

A little birdie told me you were on a date the other day, is written in Jongdae's curling script, followed by Baekhyun's betrayed capslock of ???????? YOU'RE GOING OUT WITH THAT SHRIMP, WHY????

Chanyeol groans and goes back to attempting to suffocate himself with his pillow. Baekhyun's owl cocks its head at him from its perch on his bed frame and pecks at his feet until he gets out of bed and feeds him with some bird seeds from Baekhyun's drawer. It takes him at least ten minutes and five scrapped pieces of paper before he settles on a token IT'S NOT LIKE THAT 8(, cursing, not for the first time, the inefficiency of life without a working phone.

It really wasn't, he thinks. They'd spent the entire time laughing at the tacky decor and the absence of more caffeine to help them get through the frills and lace, sharing a pot of peppermint tea and a plateful of shortbread between them. He'd been too focused on the way Kyungsoo's lips had pursed neatly together as he sipped his tea to even bother checking out the rest of the patrons, which doesn't help him go over a shortlist of people to kill for ratting him out to Baekhyun and Jongdae.

He manages to push himself out of bed and into the Great Hall for breakfast, and he spies Kyungsoo at the Slytherin table, nose buried in a book while Zitao and Sehun are seated beside him. They're fighting over a bread roll even if there's a basketful of it at the center, and Kyungsoo looks up to mouth a save me long-sufferingly at Chanyeol when Sehun's elbow nearly blinds him.

Chanyeol laughs and waggles his fingers at Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo rolls his eyes before inching away from Sehun in an effort to avoid being crushed under Zitao's weight when he lunges at the piece of bread Sehun is dangling over his head. The offerings for breakfast are slimmer than normal with the limited pool of students staying for the break, and the Gryffindor table still has a fair bit of Pixie Puffs in contrast to the Cheeri Owls at the Slytherin table; he waves at a couple of his housemates and debates on sitting with them instead.

At least, until he spies Jongin sleepily walking past the Gryffindor table and to the seat beside Kyungsoo. Chanyeol doesn't feel proud of himself for power walking his way to steal the seat, no. Thank god Baekhyun and Jongdae aren't here to laugh at him. He steals the bread roll from Sehun's fingers and bites down noisily on it, much to their indignation.

"Hey," Chanyeol says, looping an arm around Kyungsoo's shoulder. "Missed me yet?"

"Not possible," says Kyungsoo, drily, but he does shut his book. Jongin takes a seat across Kyungsoo and yawns, even as he reaches over for the cereal. Chanyeol takes pity on him and offers him half of Sehun and Zitao's bread.

"Great, play favorites, why don't you?" Sehun snarks.

"There's more in the basket," Kyungsoo points out. He sets his book down to rap at Zitao's knuckles, whose fingers have been steadily creeping towards Kyungsoo's plate full of pumpkin pastries. Sehun glowers at the table, apparently only supportive of Zitao in the face of a common enemy.

"It's the principle of the thing," Zitao pouts, cradling his hand to his chest.

"Plus we're too lazy to get some more," says Sehun. "Reaching over is too hard."

Chanyeol watches Kyungsoo whack Sehun with his book, chin propped up on his palm. Jongin makes a surprised sound at the back of his throat, sounding far too awake now.

"You do that a lot," says Jongin, quietly.

"Do what?"

Jongin shrugs, and plays with the remains of his bread. He takes it apart, piece by piece, and Chanyeol feels a little like he's being weighed and comes up wanting. "Look at hyung, I guess."

"I look at people all the time," Chanyeol teases. "Heck, I look at you guys a lot, especially on the field."

Jongin rolls his eyes and kicks him under the table. "It's different," he insists. "Like, I don't know how to explain it. You just do it."

For a kid that's been afraid of Kyungsoo for an entire year, ever fretful and suspicious of anyone from the rival house, Jongin is strangely astute about anything involving Kyungsoo; if anyone would be caught guilty of staring too long and too hard, it's Jongin, Chanyeol thinks. Except.

Except, when Kyungsoo bends over and gives Sehun an impish grin as he catches him in a headlock, Chanyeol thinks he understands. Even in his moments of roughness, there's still something in Kyungsoo that makes Chanyeol come undone. That makes him want to hold his hand under the table and without the pretense of cold.

"Exactly like that," says Jongin, and takes a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

They don't say anything else to each other for the rest of breakfast.





Their plans for playing a round of quidditch that afternoon are aborted by the crackle of lightning in the distance, the fall of rain following not half an hour later. Jongin and Sehun groan about the muddy field from their spot under the awning, but they're far luckier than Chanyeol, who had been out flying when the first of the downpour began. Zitao laughs at him, clapping his hands together and bending from the force; Kyungsoo, at least, clucks at him to get out of his robes and hits Zitao on the arm, hard enough to bruise.

"Perfect," says Chanyeol, sneezing. "Just what I need. More reasons to get sick."

"I did warn you to wait," says Kyungsoo, rolling his eyes and patting him down with a towel instead of taking out his wand for a quick drying spell. "You never really listen."

"The field was calling to me," Chanyeol protests. "I can't stay at my room all day doing nothing. I might go crazy."

"You already are, hyung," Sehun mutters under his breath.

"Shut up," Chanyeol groans, and covers the lower half of his face before he can let out another sneeze. "Jeeze, I'm gonna go take a bath."

"Not gonna invite hyung?" Sehun fake-whispers, out of Kyungsoo's earshot but loud enough for Chanyeol, and gets a pinch at his side in return. "Ow!"

The best part about being friends with the prefects is getting (admittedly illegal) access to their bathroom; the mermaids on the stained glass windows freak him out, on occasion, but not as much as Moaning Myrtle when she decides to drop by at inopportune times, but the bathroom is absent of noise or movement during the holidays. He fills up the pool and dumps bath salts from Junmyeon's stash into the water, crouching at the side as he waits for the water to rise.

He peels off his shirt and jeans, shivering as he wades into the pool.

Sometimes, the silence gets to him, far too eerie without Baekhyun's chatter or Yixing's humming over the sound of a shower; the only sounds that echo in the room are from the water, disrupted by movement as he plays with the bubbles that froth on the surface. It's the only reason why he can focus long enough to remember the hitch in his breathing, as Kyungsoo had touched his palm to Chanyeol's collarbones, hand warm against his skin. His sleeve, wet from pushing Chanyeol's bangs back, showing the inside of his wrist, white and steady.

He sinks into the water and groans.





By the time he gets out of the bath and changes into a fresh set of clothes, Kyungsoo is waiting for him at the Gryffindor common room, toying with the frayed ends of his scarf.

"There's a girl group touring in London right now," says Kyungsoo. He says it like it's only occurred to him now, but from the very deliberate way he brandishes a pair of tickets, Chanyeol kind of wants to scream in frustration. "Wanna ditch the kids for the night?"

"Is this my early Christmas present?" Chanyeol asks before he can blurt out something stupid like I fucking love you, you asshole. He grabs at the tickets and widens his eyes at the seats. "Oh my god, is this the VIP section?"

"As evil as you Gryffindors think we are, Slytherins are actually capable of generosity, you know," says Kyungsoo, imperiously. His expression softens at Chanyeol's near-manic apoplexy. "Relax, it's not gonna disappear if you let go of it."

"I can't believe you got us tickets," Chanyeol moans. "What if I had been busy? What if I had plans?"

"Then it's a good thing it started raining before you got too tired to even go out. I figured you'd rather ogle cute girls than spend the night doing nothing," says Kyungsoo. He's attempting to look disapproving by scowling, but he can't quite fight the smile off of his face at Chanyeol's hysteria. "We can sleep over at Minseok-hyung's – his house should be near the venue, anyway."

Truthfully, a very biased and unrealistic part of Chanyeol thinks that Kyungsoo is a hundred times cuter than any barely legal girl group member, but he keeps the thought to himself before Kyungsoo can reconsider and raffle his ticket out to Zitao, Jongin or Sehun instead.

To travel to Muggle London, Kyungsoo's already prepared a portkey to the train station, and then they'd have to commute the old-fashioned way to get to the venue. Chanyeol doesn't really mind, though, because it's as good an excuse as any to hold Kyungsoo's hand – pressed together, in the cramped train station, and trying not to lose sight of Kyungsoo, the movement comes to him, unbidden, but Kyungsoo doesn't pull away.

"Don't get lost," Kyungsoo chides, and Chanyeol can only nod.

There's something that bothers him for the entire night that he can't quite put a finger on even after they arrive at the concert hall and settle into their seats. He wonders if this is what his life could have been like, if he hadn't gone to Hogwarts – a teenager blowing his savings on idol groups, one of many Muggles in a crowded room, the thrumming excitement the closest to a spark of magic running through his veins like an undercurrent. He turns to look at Kyungsoo, who's as placid as ever in the face of the hysterics reverberating through the walls. He beams at Chanyeol, and it's as rare an occurrence that Chanyeol's returning grin comes a beat too off-track, off-key.

It's not the perfectly coiffed and made up idols on stage that lingers in his mind long after, nor the synchronized dances or the words of love in his native tongue. It's Kyungsoo mouthing along to the words of a song Chanyeol doesn't recognize, that makes him remember how much better Kyungsoo is, at accepting this side of his life than Chanyeol does. Not for the first time, Chanyeol wonders why Kyungsoo bothers to stay behind.

Kyungsoo catches him staring, and throws him a questioning glance. He thinks of Jongin's words, thoughtful and mulling; he crushes it as quickly as it comes.

"Eyes on the stage, or else I'd feel like you just wasted my money, Gryffindor," says Kyungsoo, not as biting as he could have been.

It doesn't work, though; Chanyeol doesn't look away for the rest of the night.





Here's the thing.

It's not that Kyungsoo's his dirty secret, and neither is he Kyungsoo's; for all the supposed enmity and rivalry between the houses, no one really gives a rat's ass about it outside of quidditch season and the occasional jackass pureblood, which is just so juvenile that it does no one any favors in the long run. No one wants to be the douchebag booted out of the running for a job at the Ministry for an ill-advised comment or two at school.

But.

Nine times out of ten it's always Chanyeol that takes the initiative to make his presence felt to Kyungsoo in public; even then, the occurrence is skewed to the non-existent scale, because it's not like they even see each other frequently outside of class and the holiday season. Even then, Jongdae is already barely passing Muggle Studies (which is just fucked up, seriously), the only blip in his otherwise commendable track record, and keeps roping Chanyeol into tutoring him by virtue of being a) his friend, and b) a pushover. So it really shouldn't make Chanyeol feel like an asshole if he sometimes forgets to say hi or even nod to Kyungsoo in the middle of Jongdae nagging at him for answers when they pass each other by in the hallway, but it still makes him feel like shit at the end of it.

One out of ten, though, when Kyungsoo bothers, he still ends up making Chanyeol feel guilty either way.

"So you're having a crisis of confidence because Kyungsoo-hyung gave you something for Christmas when you haven't even considered giving him anything," says Sehun, already bored and dangling a gummy rat over Baekhyun's evil owl, who looks murderous by now. "So what? It's not like hyung even cares about that."

"It just makes me feel bad, okay?" Chanyeol gripes, looking up from his scathing letter to Baekhyun and Jongdae. He bites down at the tip of his sugar quill, stolen from Kyungsoo's seemingly never-ending stash, and narrows his eyes at Sehun. "I have a conscience, unlike some people. And keep your shoes off of my bed, you brat."

Sehun kicks off his sneakers, but props up his bare feet on Chanyeol's pillow. Sehun is seriously ten years old. Ugh. "I feel that now is a good time to remind you that we have this exact same conversation every year since you discovered puberty," says Sehun. He lets out a short, high-pitched squeal when Baekhyun's owl nips at his fingers in protest, but he reaches over Chanyeol's drawer to grab a few treats for the owl. "I wish I never let you talk me into being your agony aunt when Junmyeon-hyung isn't available for venting."

Sehun, not Kyungsoo, is Chanyeol's actual first, real friend from Slytherin, and it takes a lot of people some time to remember that. It isn't that Sehun and Chanyeol don't talk, but that Sehun sticks to so many people at once and looks at the rest of the school population with barely concealed judgment half the time that it throws people off. He's inherently a softie, though, and that's precisely why Chanyeol is even taking his frustrations out on him.

"And you're as useless as ever, thanks," Chanyeol groans.

"I don't know why you even do this to me," says Sehun. "It's not like I know the inner workings of Kyungsoo-hyung's mind. You should be talking to Minseok-hyung for that." Sehun pauses from stroking the owl's head, and squints at Chanyeol. "Better yet, I'd tell you to go nag Hyunsik-hyung, but you're kind of weird around each other."

"He's a member of an opposing quidditch team, of course there'd be tension," Chanyeol protests.

"I'd believe you more if you had 'tension' with Minseok-hyung or Lu Han-hyung," says Sehun, and he and the owl give Chanyeol twin looks of disdain.

Chanyeol goes back to glaring at his letter. "We're not talking about this."

"Sure, hyung," says Sehun, "whatever you say."




On Tuesday, their ragtag group of displaced losers end up having a snowball fight after a heavy snowfall the night before. The fourth years gang up on Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, which is just unfair because Chanyeol's passion for quidditch does not translate to accuracy in his aim and Kyungsoo can't even be bothered to pelt snowballs at anyone else.

"We'll have to rethink our game plan," says Chanyeol, huddled behind a dead tree log with Kyungsoo. "I'll take out Jongin and Sehun, then you can mow down Zitao with a few spells."

"I'm not using my wand for this," Kyungsoo grumbles. "This is really stupid, Chanyeol."

Kyungsoo is just irritated that Chanyeol dragged him out of his toasty comforter and into the bitter cold at ten in the morning. Chanyeol kind of wants to coo and pat his cheeks, but he wants to keep his hands intact, thanks. He resorts to petting the top of his head instead, much to Kyungsoo's horror.

"If we win, I promise to get you all the cauldron cakes I can steal from the kitchen," says Chanyeol, pretending to brush a wilted leaf off of Kyungsoo's head.

"Refill my sugar quills first, you jerk."

"If we win," Chanyeol promises.

Kyungsoo looks up, and Chanyeol can see flecks of snow on his lashes. Atop his beanie. Everywhere. Chanyeol kind of wants to flick them all away with his fingers, his tongue. Kyungsoo licks his lips, and Chanyeol opens his mouth, suddenly dry. He bends forward and grabs the back of Chanyeol's hood, keeping it fisted.

"Too bad though," says Kyungsoo. "Jongin already did."

Kyungsoo flicks his wand and the snow from the overhanging tree branch above Chanyeol comes raining down on him in the split second that Chanyeol remembers that dirty, cheating Slytherins are not to be trusted, age groups and loyalties be damned. Kyungsoo winds up colluding with Zitao, Jongin and Sehun as they dump heaps of snow on Chanyeol and bury half his body under the freezing cold.

"Man down," Chanyeol yells in protest, teeth chattering. "I said, man down, god damn it, Sehun!"

Sehun laughs and smacks a palmful of snow at Chanyeol's cheek. Jongin's familiar, a scrap of a dog that all of them suspects is actually a wolf in disguise, noses at Chanyeol's jaw and leaves a slobbering trail all over his neck.

"Come on, Monggu," says Jongin, scooping the dog up in his arms. "Let's go get you warmed up inside."

"It's not even lunch time yet," Sehun whines.

"She's shaking," Jongin points out.

"Me too," Chanyeol grumbles, still stuck in the snow. Everyone else ignores him but Zitao, who pokes at his side with his a stray tree branch.

Kyungsoo ends up single-handedly unearthing him from the mound of snow, the trio of brats long since retreating to the comfort of the castle. Normally, Chanyeol would be whining to Kyungsoo by now, but the atmosphere is tense, stilted. Has been since Monggu had snuggled up to Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo had looked a little nostalgic, a little out of place.

"My dog used to do that whenever my brother and I had a snowball fight too," says Kyungsoo, quietly – the only thing he can come up with to break the silence as Chanyeol hops over a snowdrift. "We had this huge park near our house, and we'd play there until the sun set and our dad would threaten to raise our curfew earlier, but he'd never do it."

"I didn't know you had a dog," says Chanyeol, biting his lip.

Kyungsoo shrugs and yanks off his beanie to shake off the residual snow. "He died when I was twelve," he explains. "I was supposed to bring him with me in my third year, but."

He raises his hands, and keeps his fingers spread as he inspects it. Kyungsoo doesn't talk about his family much; Chanyeol hates it when he does, because he always gets this strange gleam in his eyes, his voice distant in Chanyeol's ears no matter how close they'd be. Barely a foot away from Chanyeol, and yet it feels as if he's apparated elsewhere.

"Hey," Chanyeol says, cautiously. "You okay?"

"Yeah," says Kyungsoo, with a ghost of a smile. "I'm fine."





One constant that Chanyeol's had to live with for the past few years of being with Kyungsoo is that he starts to get increasingly moody as the days go on. He takes to staring outside the window and sighing at his non-functioning phone, and Chanyeol knows the face of regret because it's one he has to wear every time he's alone in his dorm room and missing his parents the most.

It shouldn't feel accusatory, and yet it really, really does. The longest time he's spent not talking to Kyungsoo during the holidays was in second year, and he had felt like absolute crap the minute his pride had given way to residual shame. It had been stupid – Chanyeol feeling the brunt of homesickness the most and taking his irritation out on Kyungsoo, who'd looked as wounded as Chanyeol had felt.

Despite his griping, it's probably for the best that Kyungsoo is tactful enough to give him space when he needs it. Or maybe it's because Kyungsoo himself needs space to breathe before he ends up strangling any of them over the course of the holidays; either way, Kyungsoo holes himself up in his dorm for the weekend and barely comes out except to eat and stare dolefully at all of them.

"I'm tired," says Kyungsoo, when Jongin pries; and Chanyeol gets that, he really does – he knows that there are moments when Kyungsoo just needs down time, even more so when the countdown to Christmas comes in single digits and he finds himself homesick and considering apparating without a license.

Minseok would indulge him if he wants it so badly, though. Chanyeol wonders why Kyungsoo hasn't asked.

"Oh no," says Sehun, looking up from his cereal long enough to catch the gleam in Chanyeol's eye. "You have your thinking face on. This does not bode well for anyone."

"Is that his thinking face?" Zitao asks, scrunching up his nose. "It just kind of looks like hyung has a broomstick up his ass." He has the grace to look a little sheepish, at that, but not at all repentant. "Sorry, hyung."

"Shut up," say Chanyeol, batting them away as he watches Kyungsoo trudge back to the Slytherin dorms. "I can't think with you guys being so noisy."

"Should we be warning Kyungsoo-hyung?" Jongin asks, not looking up from petting a sleeping Monggu on his lap. "Because if we are, I volunteer Sehun."

"No way," says Sehun, crossing his arms over his chest. "Last time I was the messenger, I got a misdirected spell aimed at me. We live in the same quarters, so no thanks."

"Exactly," Jongin insists. "That makes it easier."

"He knows where I sleep."

Chanyeol shakes his head, setting aside his unfinished plate and pushing himself off of his seat. He leaves the three squabbling at the table, this time with a heated debate on their relative cowardice in the face of an unhappy and exhausted Kyungsoo; it's that thought that sticks with him for the entire time he digs out his phone and his charger, stuffs it in a backpack and shrugs into casual clothes. It's what drives him to sneak out of the castle grounds armed with a wallet full of pounds and his wand stowed in his bag.

He likes Kyungsoo better when he's at peace, he thinks. He likes him best when he's happy. Chanyeol can't claim to be an expert at instilling those feelings in Kyungsoo, especially at the height of the holiday season, but he'll try.

It's the only thing he has going for him, after all.





He meets up with Jongdae and Baekhyun at a coffee shop the next day, when Jongdae figures out how to apparate (illegally) to Muggle London without attracting too much attention from Baekhyun's family. Baekhyun looks mostly unaffected by the cold, but Jongdae is a miserable, shivering wreck, cheeks and ears streaked with red and lips cracked in the face of the temperature. They wave at him as they elect to queue for coffee instead of greeting him properly, and Chanyeol just rolls his eyes.

"You look like crap," Jongdae tells him, five minutes later as he sits across Chanyeol, armed with an espresso in hand.

"I do not," Chanyeol protests. Pot, meet kettle, he thinks sourly.

Baekhyun slides into the booth beside Jongdae easily and kicks at Chanyeol from under the table. He slurps noisily at his Frappuccino, getting bits of whipped cream on his chin. "You totally do." He looks around the shop, peering curiously at the wall of merchandise and the coffee makers behind the counter. "Huh. I have no idea why you would think this is better than a pub, but whatever. You were never really known for having good taste."

Chanyeol makes a face at him, and Baekhyun retaliates by smacking his forehead with an unused tissue, still cruel in the ways only close friends can be. "This is a serious and debilitating situation," Chanyeol complains. "How can you say that to me right now?"

"Please, you sound like Baekbeom-hyung did the first time he had a girlfriend and didn't know what to get her for her birthday," Baekhyun snorts. He pauses, and widens his eyes, as if suddenly realizing something that threatens to constrict his lungs. "Wait, do you have a girlfriend?"

"If anything, it'd be a boyfriend," Jongdae corrects him, sounding a little too knowing for Chanyeol's tastes. "But he's probably as woefully single as the rest of us losers."

"You're both assholes," Chanyeol informs them, but he gets drowned out by Baekhyun's groan.

"Are you serious?" Baekhyun says, scrunching his nose at Jongdae's triumphant fist-pump. "I always thought Chanyeol had absolutely no chance in hell with that dweeb."

All his friends are hypocrites that need to reevaluate themselves in front of a functioning mirror. Chanyeol bristles in his seat, not unlike a threatened cat. "He's not a dweeb," Chanyeol protests. "And I totally have game!"

"He's gonna break up the band," Baekhyun mutters, ignoring him. If casting hexes in public weren't illegal, Chanyeol swears. "I just know it."

"He's not gonna break up the band if Chanyeol has no game to begin with," says Jongdae, "and even less skills in courtship than he does in not sleeping during class." He takes a long, fortifying sip of his espresso, and looks almost pitying. "For all we know, Chanyeol could end up insulting him with a joke gift."

"I resent that," Chanyeol mumbles.

He must look even more miserable, if the way Baekhyun and Jongdae are exchanging panicked looks is any indication of it. "Well," Baekhyun hedges, "we're not saying you're completely hopeless. I'm sure we can think of a few things?"

It turns out, Baekhyun and Jongdae know nothing useful about Kyungsoo beyond the rumors, and even less about what wouldn't piss him off. Baekhyun looks almost proud of the way Chanyeol shoots down any and all of his ideas, like he's mastered an art form he hasn't known he's wanted since forever. Jongdae, in contrast, looks as exhausted and bone-dry as Chanyeol feels, and he leans over to sling his arm around Chanyeol's shoulders conspiratorially.

"I think Junmyeon-hyung's kind of close with him?" Jongdae says, but from the vice grip he has on the back of Chanyeol's hoodie, Chanyeol knows it's not a suggestion. "You should call him."

Chanyeol would rather call Minseok, if only because he would probably be of more substantial help, but Junmyeon isn't so bad. For all the times Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Jongdae make it their mission to annoy the hell out of Junmyeon, Junmyeon does, on occasion, offer bits of advice that Chanyeol actually listens to.

Mostly they're words of warning, though. Junmyeon sucks all the fun out of Chanyeol's plans.

"Don't get him a puppy," Junmyeon begs, when he does end up calling long after Baekhyun and Jongdae leave for home. "That's the stupidest thing you can do, ever, Chanyeol. You're not even dating."

"I wasn't!" Chanyeol protests, guiltily walking away from the pet store. He shifts his phone to his other ear as he continues his trek past the shop stalls in Muggle London. "I have no idea what to get him, though. Going to a Korean mart just feels like I'm cheating."

"Just get him a gift voucher or something," says Junmyeon. "He'd have more use for it than anything else."

"I don't like what you're implying," Chanyeol grunts out. "Those are not thoughtful gifts. I can't afford to be beaten out by a Slytherin!"

"You can always make a coupon," says Junmyeon, laughing. "Like, you could write that you'd be his slave for a day and he would really eat that up."

Junmyeon thinks he's so funny, just because he enjoys Chanyeol's pain. Chanyeol does not like this role reversal. He's the one who's supposed to poke fun at Junmyeon and not the other way around. This is Junmyeon's revenge for all of those times, he thinks.

"Hyung," he whines. "You're not being helpful right now."

The best part about talking to Junmyeon about these things is that Junmyeon knows when to drop it; if it were Baekhyun or Jongdae, Chanyeol would never hear the end of it and he'd end up throwing his iPhone into the gutter. As it is, Junmyeon just takes a sharp, fortifying breath. "Well," says Junmyeon, "I don't really know what else to say, Chanyeol-ah. I usually just give Kyungsoo music sheets. I don't know why you're even giving gifts to each other just now. Has something happened?"

"Maybe," Chanyeol mutters, but doesn't volunteer anything else. Something has changed, Chanyeol thinks, though he's not sure how to put it. He hasn't been this strung up over Christmas since first year, and even then he'd only been concerned about what to get Baekhyun and Jongdae, full stop. Kyungsoo's an asshole like that, changing the game without telling Chanyeol to begin with.

Then again, Chanyeol probably would have stressed over debating on this like last year; it's only Kyungsoo that's given him enough reason to pluck up the courage to go for it.

"Go with your gut, Chanyeol," says Junmyeon, only to completely backtrack and contradict himself a moment later with a cautious, "Just. Please don't go overboard, okay?"

No puppies, then. Chanyeol glares at the stop sign across him, though the expression clears soon after, just as he spies a small trinket shop ahead. He licks his lips, and wonders if a ring constitutes as 'going overboard'. He'll have to assess his life choices with Junmyeon later on.

"No promises, hyung," says Chanyeol, and hangs up.





He doesn't end up buying anything from the shop, but it does give him an idea. He remembers Yura going on an accessory-making binge just the other year, obsessed enough to actually craft and mold things, and he calls in a few favors with Baekhyun and his sister that'll last him a permanent seat in their IOU list until graduation.

Yura's manicured nails aren't too happy with him, or so her letter says, but she does fulfill her end of the bargain and sends him a package in time for Christmas Eve. In the meantime, he spends his holiday holed up in the library with Kyungsoo, who's confused if not pleased at the sudden fervor that Chanyeol throws himself into reading and the blessed silence that accompanies it.

So whipped, Baekhyun's last note reads, sadly, as his owl drops off his and Jongdae's burnt attempt at gingerbread cookies the night before Christmas Eve.

Yeah, maybe Chanyeol kind of is – has been, from day one.

He doesn't regret it.





Christmas Eve finds their small group of five parked in front of the fireplace at the Gryffindor common room, Chanyeol long since staking claim on it and shooing a disgruntled third year off to the Hufflepuff tower with the rest of his year mates. To his credit, he doesn't bring out alcohol until late in the evening, and they play barely-drunken charades that soon segue into Kyungsoo sitting down on Sehun and threatening him on pain of death if they don't beat Chanyeol and Jongin for the sake of house pride, god damn it, Sehun. Zitao just laughs at them from his perch on the loveseat, long since abandoning his score keeping duties and opting to play with Monggu's paws as he watches Sehun struggle instead.

"A little help would be nice," Sehun wheezes, watching Chanyeol and Jongin exchange high-fives with a baleful expression.

"Losers don't deserve help," says Chanyeol, cheerfully, the playful grin on his face wavering only slightly when Kyungsoo fixes him with a glare. "Uh."

Jongin distracts Kyungsoo with a fresh pot of peppermint tea, and Sehun groans as Chanyeol props him up. "I hope you're secretly masochistic," Sehun whispers, throwing the back of Kyungsoo's head with a dirty look. "Kyungsoo-hyung's stronger than he looks."

"Because he looks like he's barely fourteen," Zitao pipes up, nudging Monggu to pester Sehun with pleas for attention. "Now, can we please open presents already?"

Zitao's been stealing longing looks at their makeshift Christmas tree since yesterday, no doubt antsy to tear through all the glittery giftwrapping paper and bestow gratitude (or indignation) on whatever presents his friends bestow. Chanyeol would like to remind Zitao sometimes that not everyone has the same extravagant gift-giving tendencies as Yifan, but it's a lost cause.

"Zitao," Kyungsoo sighs, just as Zitao inches closer to the stack of gifts, "I know you like shiny things, but if you break something, I'm gonna gut you. Without magic."

Zitao drops the box in his hand and scurries at least a foot away.

Predictably, Zitao complains about his haul, but for all his griping, he doesn't seem to mind the scented candles from Kyungsoo ("Great," Sehun groans, "now we know whose dorm will burn down soon."), the single spider earring from Sehun ("You couldn't have given me a pair, cheapskate?") , the self-spelling quill from Chanyeol ("I feel like I should be insulted," says Zitao, drily, "but mostly I'm just relieved."), and the dog treats from Jongin ("Because I'm pretty sure you keep bribing Monggu to sleep with you at your room anyway, so this is me giving you permission," Jongin snarks.) Jongin and Sehun's gifts are easy – pre-booked tickets to a quidditch match the coming year that their entire group of friends had to pitch in to afford – and the two are shouting so much as they make plans of camping out that Chanyeol figures it's a safe time to give Kyungsoo his gift as any, without distractions or an audience out to embarrass him for life.

"Give me your hand," says Chanyeol, under his breath.

Kyungsoo looks at him suspiciously, but holds his hand out to Chanyeol. Chanyeol feels around in the pockets of his jacket before he pulls out a long, golden chain, making sure to keep the charm hidden out of Kyungsoo's line of sight until he places the necklace into Kyungsoo's palm.

It's a tiny dog charm, barely the size of Chanyeol's fingernail, the golden figure keeping its head tucked under its paws with only its ears peeking out. Jongin and Zitao pull away from Sehun long enough to coo over it, and Chanyeol feels the back of his neck flush with embarrassment.

"Hold on," says Chanyeol, digging around for his wand under the shredded bits of gift wrapper, "there's one more thing I have to show you. Give me a second."

Kyungsoo opens his mouth, startled, but the words die on his tongue as Chanyeol mutters a spell under his breath, tapping the side of the puppy's head with his wand. It's immobile for a painful ten seconds – Chanyeol counts it – until the dog stirs in Kyungsoo's palm and lets out a sharp yip in greeting.

"Awww," Jongin and Zitao chorus, in the background, as Sehun pretends to gag. Chanyeol doesn't bother to hit them with a cushion, too fixated on the way Kyungsoo's eyes widen in surprise, and how he has to bite down on his lower lip to stifle his laughter as the charmed dog starts to chase after its tail, getting tangled in its own chain.

"You even got the breed right," says Kyungsoo, softly, stroking the back of the Jindo's small head with his pinky. "How did you know?"

"Baekhyun's older brother was in the same year as yours," says Chanyeol, "so it wasn't too much of a hardship to ask, really."

It actually was, as Chanyeol had had to experience a grueling half hour of conversation with Kyungsoo's brother, who'd been mostly amused and unrepentantly vicious with his teasing after the initial confusion of "hi, hello, who the hell are you and why are you stalking my little brother" had passed. From the way Kyungsoo still looks gob smacked, it's so worth it, though.

"I don't know what to say," says Kyungsoo, looking down at the dog in his palm. "It's. I feel like I just lost out on a competition I didn't know I entered."

Kyungsoo unravels the chain around the whimpering dog with careful fingers, even if he doesn't have to be; as animate as it is, the charm is still made of gold and desensitized to the world, but that's how Kyungsoo's always been, too soft and caring despite his gruff, foreboding exterior. Sentimental, in unexpected ways. Something in Chanyeol's chest twists and snaps into place, with fondness.

"If only this counted as part of house points," Chanyeol muses, not a little woeful. He lets out a shaky exhale when Kyungsoo bends his head, shoulders trembling. "Oh shit, are you – are you crying?"

"Shut up," Kyungsoo groans, and shoves him off of the sofa and onto the floor.

Later, when they're all feasting on smuggled baked goods from the kitchen, Kyungsoo settles down beside Chanyeol on the carpet and leans against his arm, a heavy but wanted weight at his side. He's still clutching the necklace in his hand, the dog fisted and hidden in his palm, like a secret he wants to keep.

"Thanks," says Kyungsoo, quietly, as they watch Sehun and Jongin fight over the last brownie. He doesn't look any less homesick, but Chanyeol figures there are some reminders of home that they all need, good or bad. And maybe that's a wakeup call for Chanyeol, as well, knowing he can't keep dreading his past as much as he worries over his future.

"Don't mention it," he says, and rests his cheek atop Kyungsoo's head, breathing in.





The fourth years pass out on the Gryffindor common room not long after, and Chanyeol can't be bothered to kick them out on Christmas. He doesn't know when he ends up falling asleep, exactly, but he wakes up to the slightest hint of movement at his side, the heavy weight of an arm lifting from his waist and barely keeping the residual warmth trapped long enough for him to nod off once more.

He looks up to see Kyungsoo yanking his sweater back on, hair disheveled from bed head and the burn of the carpet leaving his knee red and smarting. The necklace is looped around his neck, now, the dog resting against his collarbone, long since silent and inanimate. Chanyeol kind of wants to reach out and touch it again, this time with his fingers and not his wand, but it feels too intimate, too unreal.

"Where are you going?" He asks, keeping his hands at his sides.

Kyungsoo lets out a bitten curse, startled. He almost trips over a slumbering Jongin, but Jongin, fortunately, is desensitized from the world on the best of days and corpse-like on the worst.

"Go back to sleep," says Kyungsoo, bending to ruffle Chanyeol's hair with his fingers. Chanyeol's not proud of the way he makes a short, sharp sound – unexpected, but not unwanted. "I'm just gonna go slip back into my room."

"Just stay," says Chanyeol. He tilts his head to the side, until Kyungsoo's hand rests against his cheek; he misses the warmth of his skin when Kyungsoo pulls away. "It's not like anyone cares enough to rat out anyone during the break."

Kyungsoo fusses at his pocket, the outline of Chanyeol's gift stark through the flimsy material of his pajama bottoms. "I'm not up for it right now," says Kyungsoo, after a beat. His fingers reach up to touch the chain of his necklace, and he tugs on it, nervously. "I should really go."

Chanyeol follows him out of the common room and into the hallway, the stone cold and prickly under his bare feet. Kyungsoo squares his shoulders, trembling slightly without the heat of the furnace, and Chanyeol keeps his hand at his side, wavering.

"Thanks again," says Kyungsoo. "For – you know what for."

Kyungsoo gives him a small, soft smile. Chanyeol can count on his fingers the number of times he's seen it directed at him, genuinely and without a hint of mockery or laughter at his antics. It's an unfamiliar look on Kyungsoo's face, but Chanyeol misses it when it vanishes into the cold.

"There's something I wanted to tell you," Chanyeol blurts out.

"Can it wait until tomorrow?" Kyungsoo asks, blinking blearily at him.

"Yes. No. Not really," Chanyeol fumbles. "I might end up never saying it if I don't say it today."

For a moment, he has to wonder if his timing is off – they're both in threadbare sleepwear and shivering from the cold, two awkward figures in the middle of the dim hallway. The torchlights paint Kyungsoo's face in flickers of light and darkness, but Chanyeol can still see his face clearly. He always does.

If not now, though, then when? Next year, and next year, and then nothing. In kindergarten, Chanyeol had always been scolded for his impatience, his inability to stay still; now, he wonders if he's been exercising it long enough for his teachers to be proud of him. With Kyungsoo, he really can't afford to rush in without thought, and yet it's so difficult to wait out the heavy weight of expectations.

Confessions – there's never a perfect time for them outside of dramas. What does he have to lose now, when his fifth year holiday has had its share of hiccups and bumps already? He's never been one for faith but he can't stop thinking, please, let me have this just once. Just once, and it's enough. Some higher power must be listening to him, because Kyungsoo crosses his arms over his chest and sighs.

"Okay," says Kyungsoo. "I'm listening."





Chanyeol takes him up to his empty dorm room, and Kyungsoo takes a seat on his bed, patting the comforter under his crossed legs and looking up in anticipation. Gingerly, Chanyeol sits on Baekhyun's bed across his own, mostly because he doesn't trust himself to not do anything stupid like press Kyungsoo into the mattress without at least a foot of space between them. It would get the job done, but he's not certain how well his balls are going to stay intact if he does.

"We're fifth years now," he starts, fingers fussing at the creases along the hem of his shirt. "Soon, we'll be sixth years. That's only two more holidays to go."

Kyungsoo raises his chin and lifts an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't speak, doesn't make the slightest hint of noise beyond the sheets rustling underneath his weight as he shifts in his seat. Chanyeol swallows whatever spark of uncertainty he'd held in his chest and lets the hesitation become his shield, instead. If anything, this is why he isn't in any other house; a little reckless, a little shortsighted, a little brave.

"But I don't want that," he continues, lifting his eyes to meet Kyungsoo's head on, "I don't want to miss you for eleven months of the year and wonder if you ever miss me too, and not like an annoying slug sticking to your side."

Kyungsoo cracks a smile, at that. "Flubworm, more like."

"Semantics," Chanyeol argues. "Shhh, don't ruin the moment."

"Is this a moment?"

For all of Kyungsoo's gravity, there are times when he opts to appear less affected than he really is. Chanyeol knows this, because there are only two ways to get Kyungsoo to take the coward's way out with humor. Chanyeol doesn't want this to be one of them.

He leans over to touch his palm over the back of Kyungsoo's hand; he strokes Kyungsoo's knuckles, white and sharp, with his shaking thumb. "Kyungsoo," he whispers. "I don't want to spend a few weeks holding your hand and remembering what it -- what this feels like for the rest of the year without having the courage to do it again in front of everyone else. I want to go to Hogsmeade with you every weekend and get ourselves into trouble for sneaking out to watch concerts or movies or whatever. I want to sit with you every time we eat and laugh at our friends when they're being stupid. I want to fall asleep in the library and trawl through the grounds as long as you're with me. And mostly, I really want to give you things that make you happy because that's what you deserve." He swallows the lump in his throat. "You deserve to be happy."

"I like you a lot," he finishes, bringing Kyungsoo's hand up to brush against his lips. "I've liked you for a really long time now, Kyungsoo."

Kyungsoo doesn't say anything, at first; Chanyeol lets go of his hand and makes to laugh it off, but Kyungsoo's eyelids flutter, closed, for a long, measured moment, and Chanyeol doesn't remember what else he wants to say.

"I know," says Kyungsoo, simply. He opens his eyes and gives Chanyeol a probing look. "I was wondering when you were gonna come out and say it. For a second I thought you'd drag it until we were seventh years, but hurray for small miracles, right?"

Chanyeol launches himself at Kyungsoo, and loses himself in a tangle of limbs and blankets, Kyungsoo's laughter ringing low and loud in the empty room. "Did Baekhyun snitch on me? Was it Jongdae? Oh god," says Chanyeol, mortified. "How long have you known?"

Kyungsoo peeks at him from under his comforter, the fabric twisted round his torso and Chanyeol's arms trapping him without mercy. Chanyeol can feel the ridges of bone along his spine, and he wonders if Kyungsoo can feel the thundering staccato of his heartbeat with how close his chest is pressed against Kyungsoo's back. All of those times playing at wrestling, and Chanyeol can never control his damn heart. "I've kind of suspected it when you went to Madam Puddifoot's with me without even putting up a fight," says Kyungsoo, laying uselessly on his side and tilting his head to look at Chanyeol. "It was actually kind of sweet, in a nauseating way."

"We're ditching that place for the Three Broomsticks," says Chanyeol, tucking his face into the crook of Kyungsoo's neck in an attempt to salvage his pride. The short strands of hair above Kyungsoo's nape are coarse and tickle his nose, but Chanyeol still breathes him in, and shuts his eyes. "No self-respecting person should be caught dead there, just saying."

"They have the tea I like, though," says Kyungsoo. Chanyeol groans, and under his mouth he can feel Kyungsoo shudder.

"You're a manipulative shit," Chanyeol informs him.

"Never said I wasn't," says Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo turns to face him, pressing closer until Chanyeol's back hits the mattress. In the darkness of the room, their shadows come together, indistinguishable. There's no laughter now, nor fear. All Chanyeol can see is the flutter of Kyungsoo's eyelashes, up close; all he can feel is Kyungsoo's mouth, hot and wet against the dryness of his lips, his tongue, his teeth, parched and wanting. It's almost like the muggy, light-headedness of a common cold, but this just makes him feel all the more sensitized and lets him breathe easy.

"I think I've been wanting to do that for a while," says Kyungsoo, when they break apart, and Chanyeol can feel the exact moment his lips purse and curl into a smile; he shivers in time with Kyungsoo's soft, contented sigh, and rests his forehead against Kyungsoo's.

"Next year," Chanyeol breathes out, before he can lose his nerve, "come home with me for the holidays, okay?"

"Okay," says Kyungsoo, with the barest hint of a smile. "I'd really like that."















extra:





"Are you sure you're going to be alright by yourself?"

Minseok is staring at Kyungsoo like he's five years old instead of fifteen, which is just a teeny bit hypocritical because Minseok looks like he's twelve years old. Whenever Minseok looks at him like this, Kyungsoo can't help but straighten up and square his shoulders, as if compensating for feeling too small and off-kilter; it should be insulting, but Minseok just makes him feel like a kid playing dress up in his older brother's robes all over again.

From the side, Lu Han keeps peering out of the window and throwing baleful looks at them; for a prefect, Lu Han doesn't look the part, far too gung-ho to jump the gun and ever inclined to break as much rules as a third year in a rebellious phase. It's probably why Minseok hovers around him despite being from a completely different house.

"I'll be fine, hyung," says Kyungsoo, shrinking into his coat further. "I told you, I'm just meeting a friend."

"You don't have friends," says Lu Han. He winces when Minseok steps on his foot. "I mean, you're a perfectly normal and sociable guy, now can we go to Honeydukes, please?"

"Who are you meeting?" Minseok asks, insistent. "Is it Hyunsik? Are you going to be out late again?"

"It wasn't that late," Kyungsoo defends. Minseok has unrealistic expectations of curfew from people younger than he is, and expects to have a moral ascendancy by virtue of being a senior. Then again, it isn't entirely unfounded considering how the last time he'd gone out with Hyunsik, they ended up sleeping a hangover off at the girl's bathroom with Moaning Myrtle tittering at them in the background. He's had enough trauma for one lifetime.

"Right," says Minseok. "Say that again when you're not trying to cough out your guts all over the floor."

"Not Hyunsik," says Kyungsoo, "I promise."

"It's probably that Gryffindor again," says Lu Han, rolling his eyes. "Park Chanyeol? No accounting for taste, that one."

"Hey," says Minseok, mildly. "I was almost put in Gryffindor, you know."

"You ended up in the smarter house, so it doesn't really matter," Lu Han scoffs. Not for the first time, Kyungsoo remembers exactly why Lu Han is in Slytherin, despite his unassuming face. Lu Han can be kind of a judgmental jerk sometimes, especially on his off days. Today doesn't look like it's shaping up to be a good one. "Now come on, I wanna get some pepper imps before Yixing gets the last of them."

Minseok lets himself be tugged away by Lu Han's insistent fingers, and Kyungsoo waves at them, wordlessly. It's early enough in the afternoon for the Three Broomsticks to still have a few seats to spare, but not late enough for everyone to be utterly sloshed to the point of temporary amnesia. He mulls over the prospect of having to come up with a disillusionment charm as he orders a drink, if only to ensure minimal fuss and pandemonium at his house's table when -- not if -- word gets out. He doesn't think he can handle Zitao, Jongin and Sehun's combined teasing.

He should be used to it by now, he thinks; the three jerks have been hounding him about fraternizing with the enemy since the holidays (never mind that Jongin and Zitao aren't even from Slytherin, what the hell; he should really stop surrounding himself with hypocrites). He hasn't gotten as much flack as he'd originally thought he would, but that might have to do with Sehun sitting him down and explaining, very carefully and in no uncertain terms, that everyone in their house thought he was on the road to becoming a certified serial mass-murderer and they valued their lives, thanks, hyung. At least they have self-preservation instincts. The same can't be said for the rest of them.

It's like everyone is either extremely confused or amazed when they hear the rumors -- there's no in between at all. To be fair, it's partly his fault for not denying them; every time someone brings up the notion that hey, aren't you hanging out with that Beater from the Gryffindor team a bit too much...?, Kyungsoo just stares at them with wide eyes, as if by sheer force of will or telepathy or fucking magic, they'd go away and never come back.

So far, it hasn't been doing him any favors. He doesn't even know what to make of Kim Jongdae and Byun Baekhyun's equally shit-eating grins every time he passes by them in the Great Hall, and it just makes him want to shrivel up and die with embarrassment because they know.

He contemplates his potato wedges and wonders if it's too late to find a time turner, if only to advise his younger self to go home instead of staying at the castle all the damn time. He'd wanted a quiet holiday away from relatives and all he got was a boyfriend whose life's ambition was to get on his nerves all the damn time. Chanyeol had been an irritating pest, then; he's still irritating on occasion now, but Kyungsoo doesn't know when it had tapered off into a dull simmer of want, a fluttering feeling at the pit of his stomach instead. Stockholm syndrome, the Muggles call it; he definitely has a bad case of it now.

"Sorry I'm late," says Chanyeol, sliding into the seat beside Kyungsoo's. Speak of the devil. "Didn't realize it was already three until Junmyeon-hyung kicked me out of the castle grounds."

Kyungsoo throws him an unimpressed look, one that says, I know exactly what you've been up to and I don't like it; Kyungsoo lives in a near-constant state of subdued paranoia that Baekhyun has somehow roped Chanyeol into doing Unspeakable and Insufferable Things to the Slytherin common room yet again. The last time, Baekhyun had enchanted all the furniture to rearrange itself and upend poor, hapless students onto the floor. Kyungsoo's ass hadn't been too happy about that, but Kyungsoo's never really equated happiness with Byun Baekhyun.

Chanyeol just thinks it's hilarious, because he's an asshole like that. Then again, Chanyeol exercises poor judgment on a daily basis, so.

"Do I even want to know where you've been?" Kyungsoo wonders aloud, addressing his butterbeer like it pains him to even ask.

"Depends," says Chanyeol. "Do you want to play dumb and lie through your teeth to your prefect when he asks?"

"I'd rather not," says Kyungsoo, already imagining Lu Han's wand aimed at his neck, his smile disarming even as it promised nothing but excruciating pain and suffering. He's had practice with it far too many times, mostly from trying to hide (and barely succeeding) whatever stupid prank Chanyeol's unleashed on his unsuspecting victims. One of these days, he's going to point Lu Han to the lump under his comforter, but that would entail raising too many questions about what Chanyeol is even doing in a) the Slytherin dorms, and b) on Kyungsoo's bed. None of those things sound appealing to Kyungsoo, ever.

"Then I haven't been anywhere," Chanyeol insists, shrugging. He reaches over to steal a sip from Kyungsoo's drink, except Kyungsoo is faster and shoves him away. "Heyyyy, didn't your mother teach you how to share?"

Chanyeol's been trying to steal his food since the first holiday they'd spent together, seated awkwardly side-by-side at the Great Hall with a handful of students from other houses. They'd been the only first years, then, and had faced the crisis of sticking to their kind versus their age range (maturity level still debatable); Chanyeol had seemed to take Kyungsoo's attempts at prying his fingers away from his peppermint tea as a sign of True Friendship -- or, worse, love.

"I have an older brother," says Kyungsoo, menacingly. "Sharing is a concept that doesn't exist at home."

"I'm not your brother, though," Chanyeol points out, jutting his lower lip into a pout that Kyungsoo wants to wipe off with a punch. Or a kiss. He really can't decide half the time. "That would be super creepy."

"Please stop," says Kyungsoo, pained.

"Come on," Chanyeol wheedles. "Just one sip. I swear I won't finish everything."

Kyungsoo tightens his grip on the handle of his mug and peers inside. There's about a third of the butterbeer left, and normally he'd give in for the sake of not having to deal with the prospect of more whining, but Chanyeol just brings out a more belligerent, visceral reaction out of him sometimes. He closes his eyes and tosses his head back to finish the rest of his drink.

"Wow," says Chanyeol, unimpressed. He shakes his head. "You're a cheap date."

"If this were a date, we'd be at Madam Puddifoot's," says Kyungsoo.

"Nope, we're not even gonna go there, ever," says Chanyeol, patting his head. Kyungsoo bristles in his seat and glowers at Chanyeol, but does nothing. Chanyeol only does things like this to get a rise out of Kyungsoo, and taking the bait would involve devolving into a grade school fight that would have the rest of their year mates jeering and placing bets on when and how Kyungsoo would finally kill Chanyeol in a fit of unrepressed rage, dating or no; Jongin had all but begged him to keep it off until graduation, please, hyung, I promise to give you half of the winnings, I swear, and Kyungsoo doesn't know if he wants to give them the satisfaction.

Chanyeol does end up getting more than a couple of butterbeers, especially when Jongdae and Baekhyun invite themselves to sit with them. Once upon a time, Kyungsoo would have either folded in on himself at the intrusion or left without a word; he'd done it in third year, the first time Baekhyun had stayed behind with Chanyeol for the holidays, and Chanyeol hadn't forgiven him for the slight until months later. That's the thing about liking someone, he guesses. You can't choose their friends for them, the same way their friends can't choose their not-boyfriends, so he'll take what he can get.

"On a date?" Baekhyun asks, leering.

Kyungsoo puts down his butterbeer, if only to stop himself from throwing it in Baekhyun's face. It'd be a shame to waste a perfectly good pint on him. "Not anymore, apparently," he groans, though his scowl breaks into an impish smile at Baekhyun's affronted sniff.

"It's a threesome," Chanyeol pipes up.

"Perfect," says Jongdae, rolling his eyes. "I can't believe I willingly subjected myself to this mess."

"Make that an orgy," says Baekhyun, solemnly raising his mug and clinking Chanyeol's near-empty one with his.

"Disgusting," is Kyungsoo's only input, though it's debatable if it's due to the butterbeer that sloshes out of Baekhyun's mug and onto Kyungsoo's lap. "I'm not that desperate."

Jongdae rolls his eyes. "I used to believe you were as asexual as a stone gargoyle, but when you keep playing footsie under the table, it’s honestly a little traumatizing because that isn't Chanyeol's leg you're touching."

Chanyeol erupts into peals of laughter, the traitor, even if he does look like he wants to pet Kyungsoo's cheek and make kissy faces at him – which he does, without missing a beat. "I hate you and your friends," Kyungsoo informs him. "I'm breaking up with you right now."

"It's cute that you think you can get rid of us that easily," Baekhyun points out, slinging an arm over Kyungsoo's shoulder. Chanyeol's laughter subsides, but only a little bit; he has to lean against Kyungsoo and hide his face into the crook of his neck to stifle it. "We know you secretly love us too much."

"If by love, you mean having the urge to cast a silencing charm on you every time you open your mouth," says Kyungsoo, feeling the weight of his wand in his coat pocket all too keenly, "then yes. Yes I do."

"We'll take what we can get," says Jongdae, drily, and moves on to distracting Baekhyun with a floating pastry.

A few years ago, this would have been the most stressful hour of Kyungsoo's life; now, the awkwardness has tapered off into a simmering undertone of discomfort, and it's not ideal, but it's progress, at least. Chanyeol, for all his supposed insensitivity, touches the back of Kyungsoo's hand with his knuckles, assuring. He lets it linger before he crooks his fingers and loops them around Kyungsoo's, holding his hand under the table. If Baekhyun and Jongdae notice, they don't call him out on it, at least.

You okay? The thumb soothing at the soft skin between his thumb and forefinger seems to ask.

Kyungsoo squeezes back even as he rolls his eyes at a joke Baekhyun makes. Fine, he mouths, I can handle it.

Chanyeol beams and doesn't let go for the rest of the night.