Seokjin had been fighting for far too long. There was not one single person amongst their ranks that wasn’t fighting for something though, and Seokjin’s something came in the form of a first year Hogwarts student who happened to be his baby sister. She was bright for her age and had a heart of gold much as their mother did but she also had a pique of curiosity that often got her in trouble- he could sympathise because he had been in her shoes when he was a student.

He remembers all of the grandeur of The Great Hall, now in shambles as it acts as a makeshift area for regrouping and caring for the fallen. He can see the moving staircase in his mind’s eye before it had been blown to hell, spells and curses taking their toll. Hogwarts was a beautiful place full of beautiful memories yet he was standing in what felt like a graveyard.

Dead bodies lined the sides of the hall and there were far too many people crying, grieving losses and betrayals. It felt dark, dismal even as he walked into what he thought would be a hall full of his friends and comrades.

There are familiar faces among those of the dead. Young and old, from faces he had seen when sending his sister off to Hogwarts on her first day to professors and past classmates. It would have broken him had he not already been numb.

He feels a twinge of a sting behind his eyes as if he wants to cry but no tears fall; a past lover is surrounded by many with tears and expressions of resignation as they look down upon a lost loved one. Seokjin had been smitten back in his fifth year by beautiful green eyes and hair the colour of the sun yet there he was, observing the death of all he had fallen so deeply in lo- love? No, not love more like a strong like really- with. Green eyes are dulled and sun kissed hair is darkened with dirt and blood. He’s holding the limp hand of a girl, the one they are mourning. He’d moved on. Seokjin wants to smile because the boy had taken the breakup rather sourly, but he can’t bring himself to do much other than give a nod in acknowledgement and perhaps grief as he continues on his way to what he desperately hopes will be his group of loved ones- free of grief preferably.

But he can’t get the thought of that specific love out of his head. Love had been reserved for his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts. For a boy who spoke with a sharp tongue and had a smile that made him feel like cotton candy on the inside; He had been a good student, a good friend, a good lover. But he had fallen into the hands of one that should not have been trusted and it ruined him. It paled his skin and bruised under his eyes, crushed his spirit slow and steady. He’d stopped eating and stopped sleeping and became angry- so angry. Seokjin had been scared for him, for the loss of such a good person.

A month before their graduation he had found a hastily penned letter. His lover, or past lover considering, had left to join the dark ranks of Lord Voldemort’s followers.

There had been a blanket of cold, silent betrayal among the students of Hogwarts. The Slytherin Dungeon had gained a new decoration, a stack of books and a pair of robes left out on one of the couches at all times- just in case he came back, as Jimin had said tearfully upon questioning. He’d lost a best friend, not quite ready to admit to himself that he was truly gone. Seokjin had held it together relatively well compared to the raw hurt that had shown through in their group of friends, there to be a shoulder to cry on or an ear to confide in….he had kept his own suffering to himself and on occasion Namjoon. He’d kept his grades strong and his smile on and graduated Hogwarts top of his class. But even then, years later and in the middle of a battle, he still felt that missing piece that had never been truly satisfied by any lover or one night stand that had happened thereafter.

He was still missing something as he came upon his friends, all alive and mostly whole; Jimin and Jungkook sat together nursing equally nasty gashes, Namjoon was looking down at his hands with wide eyes glazed over with tears (he made a vague mental note to speak to him about it) and standing with twin tearful smiles and outstretched arms were Taehyung and Hoseok. But the lack of a smiling face hit home.

Tears spilled then, from his stinging eyes to pour down his cheeks and leave trails through the aftermath of dirt and ashe and dried blood. Warm arms pull him into a sturdy chest and hold him there for wracking sobs and stuttered words of thanks to finally be let out- “It’s alright, we’re all safe. It’s okay.” until he’s left weak in the knees and exhausted to the point of struggling to stay upright. He’s got Hoseok rubbing small little circles of comfort on his lower back and Taehyung’s hands holding him close but there is that hole of darkness that whispers of loss and longing and want. He has learned to ignore it. Learned to be afraid of the darkness that his lover had fallen into, that was mirrored in the longing deep seeded within his heart. But in that moment, under those circumstances, he lets it consume him. Just that once.

He wants for familiar hands holding him tenderly and soft words of naive love to be whispered in his ears- he feels his chest tighten and his lower lip tremble for a second time with how badly he wishes it were someone else holding and comforting him. But that doesn’t change the fact that Taehyung is the one holding him and Hoseok comforting him. It doesn’t change that Jimin is looking at him with big, sad eyes and Jungkook is trying his best not to cry with him. It doesn’t change a single thing and perhaps it should force a sort of acceptance out of him but he can’t bring himself to believe that he won’t pull away and find eyes the colour of sunlit whiskey or an endearingly gummy smile. The only chance of seeing that again came in the form of betrayal. And Kim Seokjin knew better.

He’s not met with what his heart desires when he pulls back from the embrace. It doesn’t do much other than tug at his heart strings a tad, had become timid in the pain it caused him over the years. “We thought you wouldn’t be coming back to us alive….” Is mumbled off to the left of him, Namjoon looking up with clear eyes and a sniff of attempting to hold back any further tears.

“Thought you’d be lying on the floor like all the others.” He gestures widely to the other small groupings of people before them with a trembling hand and sadness in his voice and it makes Seokjin want to cry for him. But he’s out of tears to cry.

It grows quiet from then on, the sounds of crying and mourning and whispers of gratefulness for returned loved ones the only background to the silent heaviness they all felt as they sat and waited. Waited for the next ignited battle to tear them away from the ones they had reunited with. But that particular quiet does not last nearly as long as they had hoped for; the familiar reverberation of a voice speaking to them, mentally and with the slippery sort of disgust that comes with true loathing, starts a confused sort of panic amongst their remaining ranks.

“For every ten minutes Harry Potter does not give himself to me, I shall kill one of innocence.”

It begins with quiet murmurs of confusion before growing into full blown panicked exclaims of missing friends and family who verywell may have been alive but had yet to return to The Great Hall. Jungkook is one of said panicked people; his elder brother had not come back when they were given time to collect their dead. He’s standing then, with frantic eyes and heavy breathes and Jimin holding him by the bicep in an attempt to calm him. Seokjin can’t truly sympathise, his family had been paranoid that year and stayed as far from Hogwarts as they could- something Seokjin was so completely and irrevocably grateful for that it almost hurt to remember that his little sister and parents were not going to be brought in with the dead.

But he was there, he was fighting, and he was content with knowing that he was doing something good for people who would be growing up in a world free of darkness. That doesn’t mean he cannot feel the raw pain that has Jungkook struggling to get free- to get to his big brother. He’s grown in the years that have passed since his time in the school, he’s developed muscle and brawn and lost the shy boyish way he used to carry himself with. He’s become a man and the way Jimin had begun to actually strain against his younger lovers fighting spoke wonders of it. Behind that strength and determination was just a scared boy though, hiding and crying and cowering. “No, no please I can’t lose my brother you don’t understand!”

There’s a long while of discussion between all present in the hall before there is the loud, distinct sound of a beckoning call. Blood runs cold and feet move slow as the left survivors make their way cautiously to the entrance to the courtyard; there are so many numbers in the dark ranks that Seokjin feels sick to his stomach. But stood before them is a lone figure, looking meek and small and misplaced. It is a male, dressed in jet black head to toe with striking features and a head of familiar mint coloured hair- Seokjin remembers running his fingers through it in the morning with laughter at wild bedhead and grumbly complaints and adorable sleepy crinkled button noses. He feels his entire existence come to a sudden halt, air stolen from lungs and eyes filling with tears. “Innocence. Such a sweet concept.”

He’s trying to yell, to scream because that’s Yoongi. That is the person he used to dream up a future with. But he is in the clutches of pallid hands, holding him by the shoulders with a wand resting against the side of his neck almost carelessly. He looks resigned to whatever outcome happens and it stirs anger deep within Seokjin’s belly. That was not the way Yoongi had been, not the strong kind of resilient that was only partial to him. “It comes in many forms, does it not?” There is no sign of it as a long, cold looking finger down the side of a hollow cheek. “This is corrupt innocence.” Seokjin feels a warm palm wrap around the fist his hand had unconsciously formed by his side. “I am rather fond. However I have no qualms with letting this one go.”

Yoongi’s parents are on the sidelines. Seokjin can see them. They are whimpering cowards, holding each other and shedding tears but doing nothing to put a stop to the death of their son.

It truly, completely, disgusts him to his very core.

“Cowards.” 
There is sudden silence. The hand around his goes tense, pulling a little. Seokjin imagines he would be able to hear a pin drop at the way every single mouth has clamped shut. The hand drops and his vision is blocked by Namjoon’s appearance. “Seokjin what the hell are you doing.” It’s hushed, almost afraid, but it is not nearly enough to make the anger boiling within him settle to a simmer. He doesn’t bat an eye when Namjoon shakes his head, instead gently pushing against his shoulder to take a step around his taller frame.
“You are ing cowards.” The people around him have started to look doubtful, probably of his sanity, but they do not hesitate to part when he shoves his way out of the small throng of people that only hold him back when he reaches the front lines. He is angry but knows when anger begins to borderline reckless and pauses to take steadying breaths before he lets his eyes fall upon the two people he had never truly gotten to know past their names and stories of childhood splendour by none other than the son they had so willingly given to death.

“Your son is going to be killed and you do nothing. Have you no shame?!” There is a quiet murmuring that picks up behind him, slowly growing louder as the two parents begin to shy away from judging eyes. The dark lord however, from his stance finds it all a bit amusing. He laughs, deep and guttural and disturbingly nonhuman. Yoongi doesn’t even flinch.

His mother however flinches hard enough for the both of them. She looks torn, eyes terrified but body staying exactly where she had been standing when her son had been taken willingly from her side.

“No, no you do not understand why-” Her husband, a man that looks vaguely like Yoongi, shakes his head and hushes her. But she continues speaking anyway. “He has a plan….for us.” She sounds weak and strangely subdued, voice wavering and quiet although she looks determined when Seokjin truly focuses on her expression. There is no further sound from the dark clad people standing across from them, none of agreement. It honestly sets a small part of Seokjin into a hazy sort of fear. These people had been so disillusioned that they were willing to die- willing to give up their own flesh and blood for a man that would not do the same.

The fear does not last nearly as long as he had thought it had potential too however, not when a curse whizzes from the tip of her wand, narrowly missing her son when it is deflected with a harsh shout. Following, there is complete silence. Nobody dares move, all eyes shifting between the Dark Lord and the woman who had just tried to kill him. Seokjin himself has eyes only for Yoongi, stood stock still with wide eyes and the first glimare of emotion shining through the carefully constructed emptiness. In his eyes Seokjin see’s unbridled terror.

Chaos ensues just as Yoongi’s mother open , spells and curses sent in every direction as yells and screams of orders are given. He’s jostled in all directions by elbows and hands and frantic feet but he manages to snag Namjoon’s hand and yank him to safety in the form of a relatively still-put-together stone pillar. He feels dizzy and disoriented, everything happening far too quickly for his brain to process even as they hunker down and look for openings to lend a helping hand in the fight. Namjoon lands a very well gratifying spell on Yoongi’s father and Seokjin feels a swell of pride at the way his friend lets out a shaky little, “serves you right, dickhead.”

His pride splinters though. Dies out like water over a flame. Beside him the spark in Namjoon’s eyes dulls drastically, head shaking in disbelief when they are left yet again to...collect their dead. To hand over the only person that would appease the death and destruction. There are far too many left on the cobblestone ground of the courtyard by the time it is relatively safe to leave cover. Amongst them is Yoongi’s mother, eyes wide and unseeing from where she is lying limp on her side. It makes Seokjin shiver, hard.

She may have been a coward, she may have betrayed wizards and witches alike but she did not deserve death. Seokjin recognizes this and bends to slide her eyes closed gently with a sigh. She resembled her son uncannily- to the extent that it made him think about how Yoongi’s features would look slackened and still in death.

His stomach clenched at the thought.

But there are others who are familiar to him- all being brought into The Great Hall. Jungkook has his arm around his older brother who looks far more worse for ware than he had not two or three hours previous. Jimin is on his boyfriends older brother’s side with a should for support- the two of them are in the same shape they had been before everyone made their way out to the courtyard and Seokjin lets out a heavy exhale of relief. Taehyung had stumbled his way over rubble and debris to get to his and Namjoon’s side and was alright save for the fact that his sweater had met an untimely death, causing him to shudder lightly at the chill in the air.

It was Hoseok that did not come within his line of vision. It made his heart sink until the three of them made their way into the Hall with the small crowd and Seokjin was able to spot him. He was standing with a group of adults, most being aurors or Hogwarts professors, and he looked an odd mixture of angry and relieved. The expression on his face was undeniably out of place for him as he tended to be on the more positive of outlooks in situations that pulled the worst out of people. Namjoon seemed to have noticed and broke away from where he had leaned against Taehyung in a last ditch effort to keep himself upright- and the second he made it to the younger man he turned to look Seokjin directly in the eyes.

He had seen many emotions in Namjoon’s eyes over the years, too many to count really. But the way his eyes looked in that exact moment was something he hoped that he would never have to see again; the only way he could describe the look was that someone had just died.

It scared him, made his stomach drop to the soles of his feet and his chest stutter when he tried to inhale. He had never dealt with losing someone to death like this, he didn’t know how to handle the onslaught of irrational anger and denial that flooded his veins.

He didn’t even know if someone had truly passed on. But the way Namjoon laid a palm on Hoseok’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze before walking back over to where he and Taehyung had halted in their walking made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Seokjin. He-.....” Namjoon couldn’t even finish his sentence before he had to stop and try to recollect himself as tears poured down his cheeks. All he could do was step aside and point back to where Hoseok had crouched down to run a gentle hand down a still cheek. Jimin had joined him as Jungkook and his brother were whisked off to be treated, stood off to his left with both hands rubbing over his wet face. He was crying just as Namjoon was, knees looking weak as they wobbled precariously.

Laying before his feet was Yoongi. He had a small rivulet of blood running from his nose that disappeared into his hairline and turned his hair a strange pinkish red. His skin looked deathly pale against the dark grey of one of the blankets that had been lain out beneath him. He was completely still.

Careful steps lead him to the limp body where he garnered pitying gazes and he was quick to kneel at the younger mans side, hands hovering as he tried to figure out what to do with them. One hand pulled a cold, limp hand between both of his own and the sudden way his heart kicked in his chest made him in a shaking inhale. “Yoongi?”

Looking down at Yoongi’s face after years of missing it so much was like seeing the sun after years of rain. He still had the same button nose and cupid’s bow lips, but his cheeks were hollow and his skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. The further down Seokjin’s eyes moved the more he felt his heart tear, the man that Yoongi had become was fragile and weak; his ribs were visible from under his shirt, legs so skinny they were nearly nothing but flesh and bone. He looked so small, so broken and worn despite being physically whole.

And that broke him, finally made the weight of the situation crash down over Seokjin like a harsh wave. People were dying left and right, darkness was overwhelming, and after so long the love that never really died was right there in front of him but still out of reach. He couldn’t keep his head up when everything became so damn heavy and he let his forehead drop to rest against the back of his hand. Tears he thought had long since dried up slid down his cheeks to collect at his chin and drip to the floor.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Yoongi sleeps for two days straight. He is still and peaceful in his slumber, features slack peacefully in the way Seokjin remembers; lips just barely parted, eyelashes fanned over high cheekbones. There is some of the boy that he used to be in the way his features have held some of the boyish roundness, but most of him has grown sharp and handsome as compared to the way he used to be adorable. It makes Seokjin want to turn back time, to be able to watch the boy he loved grow into a man- the man he had meant to be. Subtly sweet with a heart of solid gold, gummy butterfly inducing smiles and softly hummed tunes half written on paper.

But somewhere deep down in his soul Seokjin thinks there might still be some of that left in the man lain prone against the sharp white of a St. Mungos hospital bed.

And when Yoongi blearily cracks an eye open, followed by another, there is an immediate recognition there as he blinks over at Seokjin. They both stay silent, Seokjin because he really doesn’t want to shed anymore tears and Yoongi because he….isn’t too sure what to say. Or where he is. Or what happened. So they settle for just sharing small squeezes where their hands are connected; Seokjin had been holding it for quite a while and Yoongi didn’t mind if he were honest.

A thumb rubs over his knuckles and then is followed by lips that press to the back of his fingers and Yoongi wants to deny that he feels broken inside but he does. He feels broken and dirty and worn, but Seokjin is the same old Seokjin and he is there with small smiles and careful touches as if what happened had never torn them apart.

For the first time in years Yoongi feels emotion rush through him like a dam breaking.

When he opens his mouth to speak it sounds more like a croaky squeak- his throat is dry and raw and it rebels when he tries to force it back into use. “Jin- Seokjin,” he has to cough a few times to get it to sound anything remotely close to a voice and Seokjin looks at him almost as if the moment weren’t real. “So sorry…..”

He’s silent then, just watching and not expecting much in form of answer. He had done far too much wrong...he didn’t want to be forgiven. Not really. He wanted Seokjin to yell and scream and hate him for leaving, for going against everything he should have stood for. It would make him feel exactly how he felt he deserved to feel; like he were nothing but a lost cause.

But Seokjin was never the type, and he knew that a little too well, so he just swallows thickly and shakes his head a little. Drops one last kiss to the back of his hand and then leans up over the side of the bed to card his fingers through Yoongi’s hair to get it away from his forehead and eyes. “Oh, Yoongi. I know….I can’t say it’s okay, not yet. But….I know you’re sorry. And I missed you.” His voice is soft and a little wobbly but it’s got an air certainty to it that makes Yoongi’s throat close a little in a choked out sound meant to be words of acceptance.

Tears burn in his eyes and he can feel his brows draw together as they pour over and down his cheeks. It had been so long since he had heard Seokjin’s voice, almost to the point that he forgot how it sounded. But it was choked up and deep, almost tired as he started speaking again. “I missed you so much. So ing much, Yoongi. You have no idea.”

He doesn’t know. Couldn’t have known, really. But he wants to tell Seokjin that he was missed too. That he would lay in bed some nights wide awake and thinking of him. Or that he sometimes had to be restrained from going back- to him, to their friends and the life he left behind for his parents approval. But he doesn’t because Seokjin looks angry then, looks angry in the way that tears whell in his eyes but aren’t given the chance to fall before they are wiped harshly away with the arm of a wooly sweater.

“I hate you for leaving me.” Is mumbled down at the mattress, small and angry and irritable. Yoongi can only nod because he hates himself too.

“But I never stopped loving you. So where does that leave me.”

Something in Yoongi’s chest eases, smooths out at the sound of Seokjin saying that. It reminds him of something he hardly recalls ever feeling after leaving.

It reminds him an awful lot of hope.