Krystal

 

Krystal could always find some sort of entertainment at the library, whether it be distracting Luna from her studies or secretly slinging random spells at unsuspecting victims.

 

Like what she was doing to Cormac McLaggen at that particular moment.

 

“I swear if you get us banned from the library I will force-feed you a Polyjuice potion made of 'essence of Crabbe,'” Luna said absently, adjusting the hem of her skirt from where it had ridden up (much to Krystal's disappointment.)

 

(It's not leering if it's your girlfriend, Krystal reassured herself, before craning her head for a better angle.)

 

(Okay, it may slightly be leering.)

 

“I'm not going to get us banned,” she replied, threats being a fairly regular component of their relationship. “And besides, his eyebrows look better as caterpillars.”

 

Cormac's expression indicated otherwise.

 

“They've migrated past his hairline and have burrowed into his scalp,” Luna said, though her tone indicated a distinct lack of concern.

 

“He'll be fine. They're sentient, but friendly. Onto more pressing matters.”

 

“Such as?” Luna asked, thumbing absently through a history textbook.

 

“Our demented, yet oddly sweet friends.”

 

“You're going to have to be more specific.”

 

“Jonghyun and Minho.”

 

Luna closed the book, crossed her arms and stared Krystal down. Krystal hated when she did that. “What,” Luna started, “do you think could possibly be gained by meddling?”

 

“Hear me out,” Krystal pleaded.

 

“Fine.”

 

Krystal paused, thinking.

 

And continued pausing.

 

For a considerable period of time.

 

“Is that it?”

 

“Give me a second!” Krystal hissed back.

 

“I've given you, like, twenty!”

 

“Fine,” Krystal huffed. “Look, Jonghyun is clearly a bit special. He's going to need assistance. And while Minho looks normal, I can assure you he is really not. He's remarkably thick-headed, honestly, and kind of a brute when it comes to Quidditch.”

 

“y,” Luna leered.

 

“Please, without a he's useless to you. Getting back to my original point, I don't see the harm in...gently pushing them along.”

 

Luna huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Please. You've never pushed gently in your entire life. More like shoving forcefully...or Spartan-kicking them off a cliff.”

 

Krystal feigned disbelief. “Why, Miss Luna, I do de-clare!”

 

Luna scrunched up her nose. “Please never do that again.”

 

Krystal's shoulders slumped. “Fine. But do you see my point?”

 

Luna paused thoughtfully for a moment. “How do you even know Minho's interested?”

 

Krystal laughed knowingly. “Trust me, he's interested.”

 

“But how do you know?”

 

“Minho is desperate. And Jonghyun...isn't terrible looking.”

 

“What a generous assessment of my housemate,” Luna remarked blandly, though a smile threatened at the corners of .

 

“Come on, it'll be fun! Matchmaking for the better good! Besides, if it fails spectacularly well, there's our entertainment for the next few weeks.”

 

“Slytherin at heart, aren't you?”

 

“You love it,” Krystal said, shimmying her shoulders at Luna before firing another spell at Cormac over her shoulder. A satisfying grunt of pain followed seconds later and Krystal smirked at a bad job well done.

 

“You are ridiculous, he's actually turned purple!”

 

“You !” Cormac yelled across the library, much to the dismay of a certain librarian.

 

“Mr. McLaggen! For the last time I must ask you to keep your voice down!” Madame Pince's voice rang through the library, loud and piercing, and Cormac (and his caterpillars) looked sheepish.

 

“Honestly,” Krystal said, shaking her head in feigned concern, “the lack of consideration.”

 

“You are a monster,” Luna replied, before kissing her girlfriend on the cheek and gathering her books. “Shall we?”

 

 

 

TAEMIN

 

“Tae-maaannnn, whaddup!” Amber called, fist-bumping Taemin in the middle of a seemingly unremarkable hallway on Hogwarts's seventh floor.

 

“Yo,” Taemin said, nodding his head and gesturing at Amber's bag. “You got the equipment?”

 

Amber tapped the bag. “Yep. All set.”

 

“Awesome,” Taemin said, before the pair of them turned to face the wall and, in perfect unison, began pacing.

 

“One....two....” Taemin counted aloud.

 

“Taemin, if you can't count to three in your head there are bigger problems than finding this damn door,” Amber said.

 

Before Taemin could reply, said door appeared. The two wordlessly picked up their bags and walked through the newly-formed portal and into a large, open room with wooden floors and a wall made entirely of mirrors. A small, Muggle-looking piece of stereo equipment sat in the corner.

 

“Did you practice?” Amber asked, removing her tap shoes from her bag and setting the duffel on the floor.

 

“Not as much...” Taemin trailed off sheepishly.

 

“Slacker,” Amber replied. Both of them knew that it didn't matter; Taemin would pick up whatever Amber had studied in a matter of seconds, a skill that Amber deeply envied (though she kept that to herself.)

 

“Ready?” she asked, queuing up the music.

 

“Sure,” Taemin replied, and for a few hours both of them put their worries aside and followed the rhythm of the music, training their feet to do the same.

 

 

After both were exhausted, Amber and Taemin collapsed on the floor, their tap shoes making a satisfying banging noise as they sat down.

 

“Water?” Amber asked, passing her bottle to Taemin, who simply nodded and drank thankfully. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, both lost in their own thoughts, before Taemin finally spoke up.

 

“So,” Taemin asked, “you're older.”

 

“Yes,” Amber said, taking the bottle back from him and staring as she took a sip.

 

“That's cool.”

 

“Indeed,” Amber said, screwing the top back on and staring at Taemin.

 

“So like...you have wisdom. And stuff.”

 

“Some have said so in the past,” Amber replied, smiling knowingly.

 

“So...”

 

“Taemin, if you say 'so' one more time...”

 

“Sorry! Sorry. It's just...I need some advice.”

 

“From an old person,” Amber supplied helpfully.

 

“Yes. I mean, no. Just like...from a person-person.”

 

“Well I am a person-person.”

 

“Great! Yeah, I mean...so. Like. Let's say you like someone.”

 

“I like someone?” Amber asked as her eyebrows rose slightly.

 

“No, not you you. The universal you.”

 

“Fine. I'm a person-person but not a you you. I'm with you so far.”

 

“Right. So you like someone, and they're super not helpful about it...”

 

Amber frowned. “What do you mean, super not helpful?”

 

Taemin sighed, drew in a deep breath and continued. “It's just that he's kind of oblivious, and I've been doing a lot to drop hints, I mean a lot, and he still doesn't seem to get it. And it's becoming this paranoia thing now because I'm simultaneously freaked out that he's going to know and freaked out that he doesn't know and how messed up is that, right? I mean, I want him to know, but only if he wants to know...you know?”

 

“I can honestly say I don't,” Amber replied. “But if you like Onew, why don't you just tell him? What's the worst that could happen?”

 

“He could hate me forever,” Taemin hissed, before curling his knees to his chest and hiding his face.

 

“Aww, sweetie,” Amber said, patting him on the shoulders comfortingly. “It'll be okay.”

 

“Thanks,” Taemin mumbled, voice muffled by his legs. He paused for a moment, then his head shot back up. “WHO SAID I LIKED ONEW?!”

 

“Please,” Amber said dismissively, “who else would it be? Seamus?”

 

“Blech,” Taemin said with feeling. “That guy can a bag of .”

 

“Tell me how you really feel,” Amber laughed.

 

“How I really feel is that Onew and I would be good together. He's a spaz, but I like that about him. He's thoughtful, and sometimes I can...be less thoughtful, so he'd balance me out. It's like he's the lock, and I'm the...”

 

“KEY!” Amber shouted, before clapping a hand over her own mouth and flushing an impressive shade of pink.

 

“Sorry?” Taemin asked.

 

“Nothing. He's fine. NO. You're fine. Everything is fine!” Amber stood abruptly, gathering her bag. “So... we have stuff to do!”

 

“Now look who's 'so'-ing all over the place,” Taemin smirked knowingly.

 

“Shut up! I'm older than you.”

 

“We established that,” Taemin grinned, following Amber to the door and feeling oddly better about himself in the face of her hysteria. “Glad we don't have to lock up. It's not like the Room of Requirement has a key, or anything.”

 

“You will die at my hands, Lee Taemin,” Amber hissed, whipping the door open and stomping out (a moody outburst somewhat diminished by the tap, tap, tap sounds made by her shoes), allowing the door to swing shut before Taemin could slip out behind her.

 

“Whatever,” Taemin laughed, following in Amber's wake, his own shoes joining hers in a rhythmic cacophony that followed them down the hallway and into the night.