“I’m free after Quidditch practice,” Mark says, throwing his long robes over his shoulder to get a better view of his untied shoes and squats down.

Donghyuck draws his foot closer, stomping over the end of a lace and unties it again. Mark glares up at him. He beams with satisfaction.

“Last time, you said you were too tired to function.”

“It was like, in second year.” Mark retorts.

“Doesn’t deny the fact that you said it,” He replies, with a sassy tinge.

Mark rolls his eyes and whispers a ‘whatever’, turning on his heels and striding out the old bricked hallways — only to be stopped seconds later when Donghyuck slides his hands and tightens his grip around Mark’s arm in an attempt to smooth him down.

“Come on, I was joking.” Donghyuck emphasizes the last word, looking up with feigning innocence in his eyes.

The Gryffindor Seeker just hums in response, head high and eyes fixed at the front, not giving up so soon. He was so easy to mess up with.

“So,” Donghyuck begins. “Are you going to help me with my charms or not?”

His last scores still taunt him. Although they were now in their fifth year, he has to admit that he isn’t the best when it comes to the coordination of spells and his wand. Donghyuck has already messed up a few classrooms, which makes him used to his professors glaring at him when he just takes his wand out of his pocket. ‘I haven’t done anything yet!’ he always points out, exasperated.

Mark scrunches up his nose in that cute way that makes his Slytherin partner weak in the knees. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

“The worst,” Donghyuck says, amused. “Definitely.”

He wouldn’t be the worst boyfriend in a billion years anyway because Mark is just perfect  soft.

“With a condition,” He adds seconds later, looking down at Donghyuck who now sports a playful smirk, quirk brow on, waiting for whatever excuse Mark came up with. “You’ve to come to my match this Sunday.”

It’s not like Donghyuck doesn’t go to any of his matches, he actually goes to plentiful of them, but Quidditch is positively not his thing. So maybe Mark just wants to be two hundred percent sure that Hyuck is going to attend this match and not trail around with Renjun, gossiping about the bull the Daily Prophet has published.

Releasing his dead grip, Donghyuck positions himself in front of Mark and raises his hand, showing his extended pinky. “I’ll go, I promise.”

Surprised, Mark’s eyes grow wider. “Really?!” The Gryffindor pleads, looking enlightened.

It doesn’t happen often that Donghyuck agrees so easily.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck replies, trying to hide the smile that’s about to scrawl on his face. He throws his fist up in the air and eagerly howls: “Go Ravenclaw!”

It just takes a nanosecond for a disapproving scowl to creep on Mark’s face, frowns furrowed with annoyance and ears growing red. Mark can take whatever crap you threw at him but don’t you dare to touch his Quidditch, that’s sacred okay. So like the mature adult he is, Mark hums incoherently and stomps away, fuming.

Donghyuck’s laughter fills the corridor as he chases after his huffy boyfriend, hopping on his back and pressing numerous kisses to every part of Mark’s face that he can reach. At least he hopes it can calm him down.

It may be taking effect because Mark is absolutely not complaining.

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