Wheein sighs, resting her head over her books, closing her eyes as the crisp fall breeze picks up. She can see Yongsun walking along the edge of the Great Lake, head held up high, robes flapping behind her. She doesn’t have to look to see Byulyi trailing behind, delicate face set into a begging expression, the silver and emerald of her attire doing nothing to remind her of her pride.

Wheein huffs, watches in almost amusement as Byulyi catches up, hand going to reach for Yongsun’s, head bowed.

There’s people staring, mostly other Slytherins who look at Byulyi disapprovingly. Wheein has never had the pleasure to see a Slytherin grovel, at least not until she met Moon Byulyi. Yongsun finally turns around, face set into one of annoyance, she yanks her hand out of Byulyi’s hold, crosses her arms over her chest.

Wheein can’t hear what she says, moves rapidly, Byulyi nodding along quickly, hand still out, trying to reach for Yongsun’s hand again. The sun glints off the river, cascading Yongsun in the orange glow, Wheein watches as Yongsun takes a step back, away from Byulyi, turning around, walking away from Byulyi.

Byulyi takes a step forward, looks ready to follow before someone calls for her, another boy in a Slytherin robe, looking at her with judging eyes. Byulyi turns back to him, throwing a look back at Yongsun’s direction before she sighs, walking away.

Wheein pushes all her things into her bag, decides nothing else worth her time is going to happen and makes her way to her room.

-

Wheein hears the murmurs of the new student. She can’t block them out as she makes her way through the hallways, listening to the passing comments about the new arrival to their school.

She catches a bit of a conversation, just enough to make her a little interested.

I heard their mom is a veela.

Wheein scoffs at that, sits down at her usual spot in the back of her Defense Against the Dark Arts class and listens to Professor Lee lecture.

She excuses herself to the bathroom when they are given seat work, walking down the empty hallways, making a beeline for the bathroom. She doesn’t get much of a warning, as she pushes the heavy door and her eyes meet the ones reflecting in the mirror, sharp and enticing, pinning her to the floor.

Wheein can feel the way her heart picks up, her mind gets hazy, every thought thinking of the girl in front of her, eyes stuck at the way her bottom lip curves perfectly.

“Are you ok?” the girl asks, voice raspy, stepping closer, “hey,” she says when Wheein doesn’t respond, “you need to look away from me.”

Except Wheein doesn’t want to…she can’t look away.

Then there’s pain blossoming to the side of her head, the vice grip of fingers pulling at her ear.

“Ouch,” she hisses, blinking, haze lifting with the pain, “what the hell.”

“You looked like you wanted to look at me forever,” the girl says, eyes carefully not locking with Wheein’s, “you know I didn’t think girls could fall under my gaze.”

Wheein blinks, eyes scanning over the other girl quickly, taking note of her features, the sharpness of her cheekbones and jaw, the sun kissed skin of her elegant neck, the delicate lines of her eyelashes. Wheein sees it, the contrast of the softness, the fierceness of a veela.

“I’m Hyejin,” the girl says, “I’m new here so it’s nice to meet you.”

-

Wheein roams the halls wordlessly, leather bound books and scrolls balancing on the crook of her elbow.

The flickering lights casting golden colors on the walls, guiding Wheein through the empty hall.

Her footsteps echo softly, the creaking sounds of other movements sending shivers down her spine.

The library door opens loudly, heavy door slamming against the wall. Wheein flinches at the sound, eyes casting down as gazes move up to look at her.

She bows in apology, turning to let the door close carefully, shuffling around tables and bookshelves to find a place to let her things down.

She finds an empty table, bright light washing over the glossy wood. She sighs, looking around at the empty space, letting her books and assignments down before sitting down.

It’s quiet enough that she can hear the way rain breaks against the glass windows, the howling of the wind splattering rain. She bites her lip nervously, suddenly aware of how far away she is from the other few library inhabitants.

Eventually she opens her book, unfolding the dog ear on a page in her herbology book.

Wheein reads and takes notes almost mindlessly, eyes gone hazy as her mind thinks over the past week.

There’s been a lot of buzz about the new student. A lot of embarrassing impromptu confessions and mindless crowds of students following her around.

Wheein’s been very careful not to let herself stare for so long. She’s been trying to keep herself low in her interest, cheeks still burning red at their first encounter. Her mind has been trying to keep busy, trying to finish assignments and making sure she’s in the best shape for their on going Quidditch season.

But even with all she’s managed to stack upon herself, her eyes always linger a little more than she would like on the other girl and when they close all they can recollect is the way her skin borders on golden, the pouty set of her lips.

Wheein stares at her scroll, eyes tracing her sketches, trying to refocus at the task at hand, letting the silence drown out the thoughts of the other girl.

She looks out the windows when there’s rustling, eyes searching behind her when she realizes it’s the sound of robes, of footsteps.  There’s nothing behind her but bookshelves, goosebumps break over her skin. She stays like this, hands on the desk table, body turn painfully.

There’s an eerie feeling, a gaze lingering at her side, Wheein swallows nervously, turning slowly to the side, eyes meeting piercing gray, sharpness, a tight grip.

Hyejin’s eyes pin her down, hold her down, melt away the world until the world is just the way Hyejin’s bottom lip pouts gently.

Her heart beats loudly, skin itching to touch, chest aching.

“Wheein-ssi,” Hyejin says lowly, voice syrupy, warm, “can I sit with you?”

There’s nothing Wheein can deny her, not now, when Hyejin’s tan glows under the warm lights. She nods, throat gone too dry to talk.
Hyejin this close up is a strange feeling. The scent flooding Wheein’s senses is sweet, the thick smell of blossoms rotting in the sun, the smell of cold air.

Wheein can’t help the way her eyes drink her all up, the sharpness of her jaw, the birthmark over her cheek, the long column of her golden neck, so elegant, so enticing, the knot of her blue and bronze tie resting neatly at the base of her neck, the smallest of slivers of skin peeking from the highly done collar of her shirt.

She swallows, tries to look away but her eyes catch Hyejin’s again and she feels like she’s somewhere between the air particles, skin gone fuzzy, heart trying to beat its way towards the other girl.

The eyes that look back at her are bright, eyelashes heavy and prettily curved, gaze soft, enticing.

Time drags down, engulfing Wheein into a stillness that suffocates. Her hand reaches out tentatively, reaching. Hyejin’s gaze flickers to the movement, cutting off Wheein from her hold, cheeks faintly glowing.

-

The fire in the common room crackles in the background. Wheein dips her quill carefully, ink dripping slowly.

“Wheein-sunbaenim,” a first year calls timidly, her gaze nervous, “there’s a girl asking for you at the entrance.”

Wheein frowns at that, quill halfway in her sentence. She turns to look at the first year fully, quill dropping back into her inkwell.

“Is...is she...what color are her robes?” Wheein finally asks, realization beginning to form.

It’s the faintest of pink blushes that gives the other away. Wheein stands up carefully, afraid her legs will give out, suddenly feeling weak.

“Thank you,” she says, quietly, as she leaves the other girl at her table.

Hyejin doesn’t look at her when she passes over the threshold. The painting swings close behind her, echoing through the empty halls.

“Wheein-ssi,” Hyejin’s voice is soft, eyes avoidant.

Wheein hesitates, bowing rigidly when she becomes uncertain, nervous.

Hyejin doesn’t say anything, gaze still kept away.

All Wheein wants is to look at her, wants Hyejin to look at her.

“Yes,” Wheein finally prompts, voice choked, throat going dry.

-

Wheein hears the talk in the morning.

She lowers her eyes, pushing the food on her plate around.

Hyejin’s apology still rings in her ears.

They’re talking about us...about you...I’m sorry.

Wheein is no stranger to being the word of mouth. She enjoys the constant outlandish gossip spread about her. Her competitive nature and recklessness front and center in all stories told of her.

But now she wonders how brave she really is. There’s harsh words towards her, accusations of what she’s done, what her and Hyejin have done.

Wheein is quiet, the usual crowd around her not as welcoming, not as familiar.

She can’t stand the not so subtle looks, the obvious pointing, how wrong they all are about her.

About Hyejin.

-

The waters of the Great Lake shine under the setting sun. Wheein sits at the banks, idly sketching. There’s noise behind her, students going to class, lingering in the hallways and courtyard.

The smell of Hyejin reaches her first, the sweet bitterness of crushed rose petals, the cold draft of a winter evening.

She can’t turn to look as she hears the rustling of robes, the small exhale from Hyejin’s lips.

“I’m sorry,” Hyejin repeats, “this...always happens, it’s all my fault,” her voice is soft, Wheein stares out into the river, watches the way wind pushes through the trees around them.

She turns to look, eyes locking with Hyejin’s steely gaze.

“Wheein-ssi,” she says, pulling back surprised.

Wheein can feel it, the way her body becomes heavy, heart hammering against her chest, blood burning through her veins, making her palms itch.

She can’t look away, Wheein doesn’t want to look away.

Hyejin’s gaze tries to break away, head tilting down, Wheein can’t bear it.

Her hand reaches forward, fingers curling around her chin, pulling Hyejin’s gaze back at her.

“You’re so pretty,” Wheein whispers, in awe, feeling the warmness in her chest spread to her cheeks.

Hyejin looks at her, lips parting, unsure.

Wheein can’t do anything, pinpricks piercing through the fingertips gently holding Hyejin’s gaze.

Hyejin’s wrist reaches for hers, pulling it down, palm opening useless as Hyejin places it between them, smiling apologetically.

“You don’t mean that,” she says, hand going back up, hovering over Wheein’s eyes, breaking their eye contact, “no one ever does.”

-

Hallows’ Eve is as extravagant as Wheein always expects it to be. There’s a feast, pumpkin everything, a loud celebration framed with floating candles, stormy clouds, swarms of bats.

The words have died down.

So has the times she’s seen Hyejin.

Someone pats her back, says something to her. She can’t bother to listen, nods and laughs when others laugh around her.

The food isn’t as stellar as she remembers, feels numb, tongue tasting nothing.

The atmosphere becomes stuffy, she can’t take much longer.

No one tries to stop her when she gets up, making a way down the hall, out into the courtyard. She walks quietly towards the astronomy tower. The night is warm, a faint breeze picking up at times. It pushes wispy clouds between the starry sky, cools Wheein’s rising nervousness.

She can’t explain the pull she feels, the way her feet move without her input, quickly up the stairs, hand reaching to push open the top door.

The moonbeams halo over the top of Hyejin’s black hair. Wheein can’t move, eyes locking with the back of Hyejin’s exposed neck.

She knows Hyejin knows there’s someone, her shoulders tensed, air gone thick.

She wants Hyejin to turn back, to look at her, to trap her in her gaze. But she doesn’t, Wheein knows she won’t.

Wheein moves slowly, sits carefully next to the other girl, holding her breath.

“Won’t you look at me?” Wheein whispers, voice catching, fingers curling against the stone floor.

Hyejin doesn’t say anything for a while, “won’t you stop looking for me?”

Wheein blinks at that. The answer is no.

The stars are twinkling above them. Wheein hears the noises from the forest. It’s the perfect night for a Hallow’s Eve feast. But Wheein feels the empty feeling of wistfulness in her chest, rattling against her heart.

There’s fingers curling around her cheek, pulling her forward softly.

The mouth pressing against hers is soft, stilled, warm.

Wheein’s eyes are opened wide, roaming to Hyejin’s closed eyes, the fanning of her eyelashes.

The feeling burns under her skin, an aching feeling, drives her into action.

She kisses back, following when Hyejin leans back, eyes closing tightly, fingers curling into a fist against Wheein’s cheek.

There’s a howl from the forest, the rustling of leaves with the wind and Wheein can’t bear to close her eyes.