Maybe Jongdae was always destined to spend his life chasing after Kim Joonmyun. It almost makes him laugh to think about all the ways their paths could have twisted—yet they’ve intertwined again inevitably, like two roads merging into one. A wry smile curls Jongdae’s lips when Joonmyun takes the seat across from him.

"Mr. Kim?"

"How do you do."

Jongdae's breath catches in his throat as he waits for a sign: a double take, a thoughtful frown, anything that would betray a spark of recognition. But as expected—dreaded, more accurately—none comes.

A space of twelve years has passed since their first encounter, but Jongdae still recognizes the warmth of Joonmyun’s palm when he grasps firmly onto his hand in greeting. Joonmyun lets go, and Jongdae feels as though he's been untethered from time, like he could drift away at any second to a dusky place somewhere between the present and the past.

Jongdae remembers everything from that day. He had experienced lively bustle of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters many times before, but on that bright September morning it was Jongdae who had to wriggle away from his mother’s smothering embrace to leap on board the Hogwarts Express. His older brother, Jongdeok, was already patrolling the corridors to fulfill his duty as one of Ravenclaw’s newest prefects.

“If there’s anybody you gotta watch out for, it’s the Bloody Baron,” Jongdae confided in a low tone to the awed first years gathered in his carriage.

“Who’s the Bloody Baron?” a pig-tailed girl asked tremulously.

“He’s the ghost of Slytherin and the most evil creature in Hogwarts Castle, if you ask me. You know what they say about Slytherins…”

His voice trailed off mysteriously, and the other first years had no choice but to nod their heads in agreement. With Jongdae’s twelfth birthday coming up in late September, he was “practically a second year already,” which he cited as further proof of his authority.

“My brother also told me that sometimes it takes time for you to figure out what House you're in," Jongdae continued. By now, his carriage was crammed with curious first years who were drawn in by Jongdae's resonant voice and his infectious laughter.

"How do you even know what House you're in?" a boy clutching onto a black cat asked. "Like how does the Sorting even work?"

"That's something only those who have been through the process firsthand can understand," Jongdae answered wisely. "But I've heard that it doesn't hurt. Not usually."

The boy held his unimpressed expression, but Jongdae continued. "As I was saying, sometimes you might waver between, say, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. But I've heard that if you belong to Slytherin, you know right away."

The same boy asked, "And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, of course," Jongdae replied innocently. "But that just goes to show that there's something...different about Slytherins. I'm sure you've heard of their reputation."

"That's silly, I don't think you know what you're talking about."

"Hey, just about every known Dark Wizard and Death Eater has come out of Slytherin," Jongdae argued, his voice rising.

At that very moment, the carriage door slid open. It was Jongdeok, checking on his younger brother.

“Hyung!” Jongdae cried out, rushing over to hug his older brother around the waist.

“Oi, don’t go around causing a ruckus,” Jongdeok muttered, pushing his brother away. “I’ll have no choice but to dock you points.”

The other first years blanched in terror, afraid that they would be punished, too.

“He’s only joking,” Jongdae explained confidently once his brother left their carriage. “It’s impossible for him to take points since we haven’t even been sorted into our Houses yet!”

His classmates sighed in relief, and one girl squealed with shining eyes, “You know so much, Jongdae!”

“I’ve done my research,” he answered smugly. “And my brother told me a lot of stuff about the school.”

Something Jongdeok hadn’t told his younger brother about was the state of chaos that would erupt immediately as the students poured out of the Hogwarts Express. A mob of black robes pushed past Jongdae, noisy with shouts and laughter. Jongdae stood on his tiptoes to find his brother, but too many students were moving around all at once for him to pinpoint which head belonged to Jongdeok.

Sleek black hair caught Jongdae’s attention, glistening almost blue in the sunlight. Jongdae ignored shouts of, “First years! Right this way!” to follow the head that looked like his brother’s. Ever since he received his acceptance letter earlier in the summer, it was Jongdae’s dream to stride through Hogwart’s main entrance alongside his brother.

“Hyung!” Jongdae panted once he caught up. The boy turned around, but he wasn’t Jongdeok. “Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you were my brother.”

Instead of ignoring Jongdae and turning away, the boy smiled at Jongdae and shouted over the clamor, “Do you need help finding him?”

Jongdae stared for a moment, shocked by the unexpectedly friendly offer. “Sure, thanks!”

“What House is he in? And what year?” the boy asked, looking around in all directions.

“Ravenclaw, and fifth! He’s a prefect!” Jongdae informed him proudly.

“Okay, that makes it easier. He’ll be wearing his badge and leading the underclassmen to the carriages...”

“That’s right—wait, I think I see him!”

Jongdae dashed ahead, slipping between elbows to squeeze through the crowd. The other boy followed behind to make sure Jongdae wouldn’t get lost in the confusion. But Jongdae was too late: his brother was already climbing into a carriage.

“Hey, it’s alright,” the boy said, noticing the disappointed slump in Jongdae’s shoulders. “You can look for him once we’ve all reached the Great Hall, and you can sit with him at dinner!”

“That’s the thing…” Jongdae mumbled. The boy looked at Jongdae with concern in his eyes when Jongdae’s voice suddenly got quiet. “I’m...I’m not sure which House I’ll be sorted into. I wanted to ask Jongdeok what I could do to get sorted into Ravenclaw just like him, but I guess it’s too late now…”

If the boy was startled to discover that Jongdae was only a first year, he didn’t let it show. “What’s your name again?” he asked kindly.

“Jongdae…” the younger boy answered, all cheekiness and bravado gone.

“Hi Jongdae, I’m Joonmyun.” He took Jongdae’s small, sticky hand and shook it. Then he placed both his hands on Jongdae’s shoulders and looked earnestly into his eyes. Joonmyun was tall for his age, almost the same height as Jongdeok, so Jongdae had to tilt his head back to blink up at him.

“Jongdae,” Joonmyun said firmly, “you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I promise. It’s your first time at Hogwarts, so you should just enjoy the experience. Everything’s going to turn out okay. Now let’s hop on a carriage so we don’t end up missing the Sorting Ceremony.”

Jongdae finally cracked a smile at Joonmyun’s gentle assurance. He followed the older student to a carriage, but stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of the nightmarish, skeletal creatures harnessed to it.

“J-Joonmyun? What’s that?” Jongdae croaked, hardly able to find his own voice.

“So you can see them, too?” Joonmyun grimaced. He tried to lead Jongdae with a light hand on the small of his back, but the younger boy was still frozen stiff. “I know they’re scary, but they won’t hurt you, I promise. Here, Jongdae.”

He offered the younger boy his hand, and Jongdae took it, tearing his eyes away from the thestrals to look up at Joonmyun with trust and adoration budding in his moist brown eyes. Joonmyun smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

Once they were both sitting in the carriage, Jongdae wouldn’t let go of his hand for the entire ride to the castle, but Joonmyun didn’t try to push him away. Everything felt a little less overwhelming and a little less scary sitting next to Joonmyun, who Jongdae soon discovered was a third year.

“My parents are living in America right now, but they both went to Hogwarts.”

“Did you get sorted into the same House as your parents?”

“Yeah, family members almost always end up in the same House. Which is why you shouldn’t worry about not getting into Ravenclaw. If your brother got into Ravenclaw, that increases your chances already! Besides," he added, "even just wanting to get into a certain House as much as you do can make a huge difference.”

Jongdae didn’t get a chance to ask Joonmyun which House he was in before they had to unlink fingers and climb out of the carriage.

“The first years are over there,” Joonmyun told him, pointing at a line of terrified looking first years filing into the castle. “I’ve got to join my House now, good luck!”

“Thanks!” Jongdae called after him, a couple of seconds too late. Joonmyun turned around to grin and nod in Jongdae’s direction, and Jongdae caught a glimpse of the older boy’s robes before he blended into the crowd. He noticed for the first time that Joonmyun was dressed in silver and green.


And for the first time in his life, Jongdae felt that getting sorted into Slytherin might not be the worst thing in the world, after all.

In the end, Jongdae was sorted into Ravenclaw, as Joonmyun assured him he would be. Applause burst from the Ravenclaw table, and Jongdae felt weightless with delight as he drifted across the hall to join his House. As he passed the Slytherin table, his proud grin was met with scoffs and eyerolls, except for one person in green and silver robes who was actually cheering for him: Joonmyun.

He beamed and nodded at Joonmyun in acknowledgement before sliding onto the bench to sit next to Jongdeok at the Ravenclaw table. But Jongdae’s chest deflated a little in disappointment when he realized he wouldn’t be in the same House as Joonmyun.

Twelve years have passed since their first meeting, and Joonmyun is just as handsome as Jongdae remembers. No, he's grown even more handsome over the past several years. Jongdae is already taking account of his details—tired eyes, faint shadowy stubble, broad shoulders and sculpted arms filling out the light knit sweater hugging the contours of his chest.

As far as Jongdae can tell, Joonmyun is the most clean-cut, morally sound man in wizarding world. His career has certainly proved that Joonmyun has both a strong sense of justice as well as the bravery pursue it.

From Jongdae’s experience as a gossip columnist for Witch Weekly, he knows that men like Joonmyun always have something to hide. Naturally, it's Jongdae's job to dig up all of Joonmyun's dirty little secrets. And just maybe, Jongdae is also curious about him because he never quite got over the crush he had on Joonmyun during their Hogwarts days.

Jongdae's pink quill twitches on the table and springs up, poised to scribble away.

"Hey, can you put that thing away?" Joonmyun asks quietly. "There are Muggles all around us."

"Sure, yeah." Jongdae stows his Self-Writing Quill in his bag and pulls out a slim felt tip pen. For some reason, the Auror had requested that they meet in a Muggle cafe. "Just wondering, why'd you pick this place for our interview?" Jongdae asks curiously. "So you wouldn't get recognized?"

"I like the drinks here. Can I get you something?"

Jongdae glances at the chalkboard menu above the counter, but he doesn't recognize any of the items. "I'll have whatever you're having."

Joonmyun nods and walks over to the register to order. "Hey," he says, turning around for a moment. "What's your name?"

"Jongdae," he calls back.

For a split second, Jongdae almost suspects that Joonmyun will react. That everything will click, and Joonmyun's eyes will widen in realization. But Joonmyun turns back around without a single lingering glance in his direction.

Of course he wouldn't recognize Jongdae. He hadn't recognized him eight years ago, when a fifth year Jongdae confessed his feelings to Joonmyun, the Slytherin Head Boy. Jongdae's cheeks still burn in embarrassment when he recalls that incident. He doesn't know what he was thinking.

Or rather, he does know what he was thinking: the only thought racing through Jongdae's mind at the time was that this would be his last chance.

Separated by different years, not to mention different Houses, Jongdae never had the opportunity to approach the boy who offered him a hand to hold onto when Jongdae was a frightened eleven year old. Their paths rarely crossed, but Jongdae had observed from afar nearly a thousand variations of Joonmyun's smile.

He finally cornered Joonmyun on a weekend trip to Hogsmeade in late December. In an incoherent rush, Jongdae babbled about all of his feelings for what felt like forever.

The smile Joonmyun gave him then was one of polite confusion, and Jongdae lost the rest of his fleeting courage. He ran off in the opposite direction when he realized that Joonmyun had no idea who he was. For the rest of the school year, Jongdae refused to even look at the Head Boy, and as a result, he missed all the curious looks Joonmyun sent in his direction.

Seeing him now, Jongdae feels a vague, but burning, unfulfilled desire once more.


"Here."

Joonmyun sets a clear plastic cup filled with creamy beige liquid on a brown paper napkin in front of Jongdae. His name is scribbled in black permanent marker on the lid. So that's why Joonmyun asked for his name. The napkin collects drops of condensation trailing down the sides of the cup as Jongdae regards the drink with curiosity.

"What is this?" he asks.

A small smile plays around the corners of Joonmyun's lips. "Just try it. You can't find this kind of magic in the wizarding world."

Jongdae takes a sip, and– "Wow! What is this?"

"Iced soy milk latte with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and an extra shot of espresso. Like it?"

"God yes!"

"I had a feeling you would," Joonmyun says quietly, almost to himself.

"What's in yours? It looks different."

Jongdae eyes the cup in Joonmyun's hand, which is filled with a darker liquid.

"It's just coffee and water."

"Can I try?" Jongdae asks, like they've known each other for ages.

Joonmyun's eyes widen briefly in surprise at his familiarity, but then he nods and nudges his cup across the table. Jongdae squeezes his own straw through the hole and takes a sip. His face wrinkles in disgust when the bitter liquid hits his tongue.

"That's the worst thing I've ever tasted," Jongdae sputters. He takes a giant gulp of his own latte to wash the flavor away.

Joonmyun chuckles, but it's a croaky noise that doesn't quite sound like genuine laughter. Maybe he's just tired. "I told you, it's just coffee and water."

"Anyways, I guess I should congratulate you on behalf of the staff at Witch Weekly," Jongdae says.

"For what?"

"For being the newly appointed Head of the Auror Office, of course!"

"Oh. Right."

"That's quite an achievement, don't you think?"

"I suppose it is."

"Your career has been one great success after another, starting from your very first mission! Just out of Auror training, you singlehandedly thwarted the heist of the century at Gringotts."

"I wouldn't put it that way, but I guess you're correct."

Jongdae had heard of Joonmyun's modesty, but it's almost as if Joonmyun doesn't care at all about his own accomplishments. It's not that he takes his success for granted, it's more like he simply doesn't like talking about himself.

"That happened four years ago, but I haven't been able to find a single interview about it! Do you care to look back at the incident at all? Where your career began?"

"I mean, there's not much to look back on. You make it sound like I was some sort of hero, but I was just young and dumb, and I thought that I could do things my own way. I disobeyed my mission leader because I was too stubborn and arrogant to follow directions I thought were misguided."

This is the most that Joonmyun has ever said about any of his achievements. Somehow, it goes beyond just modesty. Joonmyun talks as if he isn't proud of what he's done.

Stubborn and arrogant are not words that Jongdae would ever associate with him. Jongdae had always looked up to Joonmyun from afar for being kind and gracious. He never thought he could ever admire someone from Slytherin, but Joonmyun proved him wrong time and time again.

"But in the end, your judgment was what saved the bank millions of Galleons. And that was just the beginning of your illustrious career."

Joonmyun grimaces slightly. "I was just very lucky that I even had a job afterwards."

Sensing the heaviness shrouding the topic of Joonmyun’s career, Jongdae tries to steer the conversation towards a lighter direction.

“You’ve been extremely private about your personal life ever since you started to make headlines. But there are still so many things that the public is just dying to know about you.”

“Oh?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many owls Witch Weekly has received just begging to know what Kim Joonmyun’s ideal type is!”

“Is that right?” The corner of Joonmyun’s mouth lifts, revealing a glimpse of perfect white teeth. He lets out a short amused exhale that almost sounds like a snort.

“So how about this: to keep our interview more like a conversation, every time I ask you a question, you can ask me one back.”

“Fine,” Joonmyun accepts, so readily that it startles Jongdae. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Hold on a second, you’ve got to let me finish asking my question first!”

Joonmyun doesn’t say anything, but his brow scrunches and his bottom lip pushes out in displeasure. Jongdae suddenly realizes that Joonmyun is actually pouting, and it’s like a ing plot twist. He’s cute, for a sulky grown man.

“So what’s your favorite color?” Jongdae asks, trying not to laugh.

“Pink,” Joonmyun answers immediately. “Yours?”

“Really? It’s unusual for guys to like pink, but my favorite color is also pink!”

“Ask me another question.”

“What’s your favorite magical creature?”

“Pygmy puff.”

“No way!” Jongdae protests. “That’s my favorite too!”

“Are you trying to impress me or something?” Joonmyun asks, arching an amused eyebrow.

Jongdae feels heat rushing to his face, and the familiar sensation reminds him of his awkward teenage crush on Joonmyun. He hopes that his face won’t betray his embarrassment, but Joonmyun doesn’t remember Jongdae at all, so he should be safe. Probably.

“I get to ask you a question now, right?” Joonmyun asks.

“Go ahead,” Jongdae tells him.

“What’s your ideal type?”

The question almost doesn’t register in Jongdae’s mind at first, but Joonmyun watches him patiently, waiting for an answer. Flustered, Jongdae fumbles for something to say, but words elude him. Finally, he manages to prattle some nonsense that he hopes will pass as an answer.

“I like someone who’s trustworthy...and humble...and has a sense of who they are… Somebody who’s serious about things that matter, but also has a playful side. Somebody who loves to laugh.”

“Somebody who loves to laugh, huh? That’s awfully vague,” Joonmyun teases.

“Well, what’s your ideal type?”

Joonmyun rubs his chin thoughtfully, and it's so quiet in the cafe that Jongdae can hear the soft rustle of Joonmyun’s thumb passing over tiny blue black bristles. His mind wanders in the moment of silence, and he wonders briefly if Joonmyun is getting enough sleep, if he has enough time to take care of himself. Did Joonmyun ever learn how to cook, or does he buy dinner every night?

“I like somebody with a heart,” Joonmyun begins carefully, “and a liver. Gallbladder, spleen. Maybe a functioning kidney or two.”

“Hey!” Jongdae protests. “What kind of answer is that?”

“Would you like it if I was more specific?”

“I’m sure our readers would,” Jongdae answers faintly, because Joonmyun is looking straight at him with the most dangerous ing smirk on his face, eyes shining sharp as a blade.

“I like...cheekbones...and eyelashes…” Joonmyun’s eyes flit down to Jongdae’s mouth, and the air rushes out of Jongdae’s lungs. “And I like the corners of your—I mean, I like mouths.”

“So you like when somebody has internal organs, cheekbones, eyelashes, and a mouth?”

“Pretty much,” Joonmyun answers smugly.

“That’s pretty vague,” Jongdae accuses. His voice is even, but his whole body feels like it’s shaking, jittery from caffeine and adrenaline. “I’m not sure we can publish that in our magazine.”

“And why is that?”

“Our readers won’t be happy if we tell them that your ideal type is someone with basic human parts.”

“Then you’ll have to omit my other answers, too.”

“What do you mean?”


“My favorite color isn’t actually pink. It’s purple. And I like hippogriffs a lot more than I like pygmy puffs.”

“Why did you say that they were, then? Did you...did you know?” Jongdae’s heart jumps to his throat when he sees a sweet, soft smile melt Joonmyun’s expression. “You knew that they were my favorites, didn’t you? But...how?”

“Can I borrow your pen for a moment?”

Jongdae nods dumbly, and Joonmyun lifts the pen from his fingers. And then he pries open Jongdae’s fist to scrawl something on his palm: an address. He stands up to leave.

“Wait!” Jongdae almost reaches out for Joonmyun’s arm to stop him from pushing his chair in. “This interview isn't over yet!”

“I know. But right now, I’m needed elsewhere. I hope you understand. And I hope we can continue our conversation again soon.”

Jongdae unfurls his hand with the writing on his palm and holds it up. “What’s this?”

“My place. Come over tonight? I should be finished with work by seven.”

Jongdae nods wordlessly. For someone as garrulous as Jongdae, his goodbye to Joonmyun is uncharacteristically quiet. He just nods and lifts a hesitant hand as Joonmyun waves back at him, pushing through the cafe door with his elbow.

It hits him then that Joonmyun had been stringing him along this entire time. Jongdae should have demanded an explanation; Joonmyun owed him that much at least. But the words simply wouldn’t flow, they were choked back by pure shock and a blockade of reawakened emotions.



It was him. A more rational part of Joonmyun's mind argues, Of course it was him—it couldn't have been anyone else. Still, he felt doubt up until the very moment Joonmyun witnessed Jongdae with his own eyes. Even then, he had to make sure.

This doubt, it only emerges in matters concerning Jongdae. From the first day they met, Joonmyun was prepared to make a friend. But in the years that followed, their paths never crossed, like fate was hiding Jongdae from him. Whenever Joonmyun did see him in the Great Hall or on weekend trips to Hogsmeade, Jongdae was always surrounded by a gaggle of admirers. Not just Ravenclaws, but Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors too.

And Joonmyun had his own friends in his own House. If not friends, then people who respected or even admired him. Though Joonmyun disapproved of the bigotry asive within the Slytherin community, Joonmyun was always highly ambitious and had a commanding sort of aura that other Slytherins even acknowledged.

In many ways, Joonmyun was born to be a leader. He never won people over by charm, the way that Jongdae did. In fact, Joonmyun was occasionally teased for being so strait-laced and bookish. But he emanated an undeniable, quiet kind of charisma that compelled others to trust him. He never demanded attention, but other people still surrendered it to him.

Joonmyun received a fair share of confessions during his years at Hogwarts. Most of these he politely turned down, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sacrifice time from his studies or his duties as a prefect and then Head Boy. Jongdae's confession, however, shocked him so much that he was sure Jongdae had made a mistake.

Their lives had intersected just once before, and Joonmyun had accepted by then that they were only meant to meet at a single point in time.

Not that thoughts of Jongdae never crossed his mind. He was just certain that Jongdae had no reason to think of him again. But there he was. Sixteen years old and almost the same height as Joonmyun. Bundled up to the chin in a thick, navy blue scarf, Jongdae had greeted him with earnest eyes and flushed cheeks.

Joonmyun was mesmerized by the sound of Jongdae's voice, bright like polished brass. He comprehended a moment too late the words coming out of Jongdae's mouth in hard white puffs of steam. For a few seconds, Joonmyun just stared at the snowflakes caught on Jongdae's eyelashes.

"Pardon?" Joonmyun asked, hardly able to trust his own ears.

But then he noticed the pain in Jongdae's expression. The younger student looked as if he had been scorned. Red ears and red cheeks, Jongdae whirled around and ran off in the opposite direction. The footprints left in his wake were quickly covered by snow as it fell in cloudbursts from the sky.

Even when Joonmyun was attending Hogwarts, his mother had implored him to send home copies of Witch Weekly along with his monthly letter to his parents. It was her guilty pleasure and what she missed most about living in England.

Joonmyun’s snowy owl Byul had been trained especially for the family to keep in touch across the Atlantic ocean. Three weeks out of each month, Joonmyun pampered and coddled her. When she was fully rested and refreshed, Joonmyun would attach his letter and the latest issue of Witch Weekly to her leg and hope that she would make it home unscathed. By some miracle, she always did.

After leaving Hogwarts, Joonmyun found his own condo in a quiet Muggle neighborhood and had a landline installed so Byul wouldn’t have to work so hard anymore. He still sent Witch Weekly to his mother, but through Muggle post instead. At first, Joonmyun had received curious looks from the elderly witch peddling newspapers and magazines from a stall just outside the Leaky Cauldron. But she practically swooned when Joonmyun explained he was buying them for his mother.

Uninterested in celebrity gossip and fashion trends, Joonmyun never gave the magazine a second glance before shipping it to his mother. But then one day a name printed on the cover caught his attention. Introducing: “Tell All!” by Kim Jongdae. It was a new gossip column that would feature a prominent witch or wizard each week. The first installment featured Jongdae himself. The article didn’t include a photo, but Joonmyun purchased an extra copy of the magazine for his own safekeeping just in case. In case of what, Joonmyun couldn’t say for sure.

In the end, the old article did prove useful after all. Joonmyun received a deluge of pleas for interviews when his appointment as the new Head of the Auror Office was announced. Among those requests was one from Witch Weekly's infamous gossip columnist Kim Jongdae. He wouldn't be able to hide from the public eye for much longer, so Joonmyun finally gave in.

Inviting Jongdae to his home wasn't part of the original plan. In fact, Joonmyun didn't have a plan for what he would do if the journalist he met at the cafe was the same Jongdae always at the periphery of his childhood. He was so prepared for disappointment that he couldn't even conceive of the best outcome as a possible reality.

But there isn’t any more time to ponder outcomes and implications when he hears a sharp knock against his front door.

"So this is your place, huh?" Jongdae says, swiveling his eyeballs to look all around the pine paneled entryway as he follows Joonmyun into his home.

"Yes," Joonmyun answers curtly. To his surprise, Jongdae grins.

"It's nice."

"Thank you."

It isn't quite what Jongdae imagined. He had spent the hours between their earlier meeting and now daydreaming about the interior of Joonmyun's home. What he expected was an upscale neighborhood, the inside of his home decorated with sleek brushed metal and minimalist shapes. Tidy, but impersonal as would fit a bachelor of his status.

But his condo is what Jongdae could only describe as cozy. A little bit on the messy side, but comfortable and unpretentious. Everywhere Jongdae looks, he sees evidence that the house has been lived in. Chocolate crumbs on the coffee table, socks drying in the bathroom sink—details so intimate that Jongdae has to look away.

Joonmyun shuffles awkwardly around in his kitchen as though he's suddenly unsure of himself as he fixes tea for the two of them.

"Green tea is all I have, sorry."

"Sounds perfect, thank you."

They're sitting across from each other at his breakfast table, slightly more distance between them than when they were at the cafe. It's eight o'clock, an hour later than what Joonmyun had suggested because Jongdae didn't want to come off as too eager.

"Do you know who I am?" Joonmyun asks suddenly, all signs of uncertainty dissolving immediately.

"You're Kim Joonmyun, the Head of the Auror Office. You made the wizarding world a safer place by incarcerating the last clusters of Death Eaters in hiding—"

"That's not what I mean. Who am I, to you."

Jongdae presses his fingertips against his ceramic tea cup just to feel the burn.

"You're...Kim Joonmyun. You were everybody's favorite Head Boy...and the nicest Slytherin I ever knew."

Joonmyun breaks into a grin, and Jongdae swells with pride, like he's given the correct answer.

"So you remember?" Joonmyun asks in a soft voice.

"Of course."

Meeting Joonmyun was a pivotal moment in Jongdae's childhood—one that established a framework for a more open-minded, tolerant adult Jongdae. Not that he would ever admit that much out loud.

"Good, good," Joonmyun breathes. "I'm glad. Because there was something I wanted to tell you."

"Oh?" Jongdae's fingertips are trembling again, even though the caffeine has long since faded from his system. He takes a sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving Joonmyun's.

"I mean, it didn't have to be you. But I'm glad it was you. Because I trust you."

"Oh."

It strikes Jongdae then that what he hoped Joonmyun would say was simply wishful thinking. Of course Joonmyun wasn't going to confess his love. It's been almost a decade since that episode of their lives. But Jongdae can tell that whatever Joonmyun is going to tell him is almost just as important.

"Jongdae, I really like you. I know it sounds silly now, but I kind of admired you from afar when we were both at Hogwarts."

"Pardon?"

"Which is why I hope you'll listen to me as not just a journalist but also a friend. I've never talked to anyone about this before, but it's bound to come up at some point or another."

"You talk as if you're keeping some kind of horrible secret," Jongdae says lightly.

"Well, I have a feeling that some people might think of it that way."

"Joonmyun...don't be ashamed of who you are. No matter what some people think of you personally, you're a brave man who has done great things for all of us. You're a hero."

"Thank you, Jongdae," Joonmyun says with a relieved smile. "I know that people won't look at me the same way after the truth comes out, but they deserve to know who I really am. And honestly, I think I'll feel a lot less burdened with everything out in the open."

"So let me get this straight," Jongdae begins carefully. "You want me to help you come out of the closet?"

"What?"

"What?"

Joonmyun covers a nervous laugh with the back of his hand, and Jongdae's face burns in embarrassment.

"Well, um, I wasn't sure if that was a conversation we needed to have," Joonmyun says while rubbing the back of his neck, "but I suppose we could talk about that too, if you want."

"N-no! I don't want to rush you into anything. What was it that you were planning to tell me?"

"My father was a Death Eater."

In a way, just saying the words out loud helps to exorcise the demons lurking beneath the surface of Joonmyun's conscience. Memories fraught with pain and confusion suddenly re-emerge with new immediacy.

Joonmyun's mother had kept one hand curled around her son's tiny fist and the other one covering Joonmyun's mouth, but Joonmyun didn't make a sound. He was too young to feel afraid. He stood by the window where his mother was kneeling, squirming in her arms when he recognized his father out on the driveway.

It was dark outside, so Joonmyun couldn't recognize the other men who weren't his father. They were shouting at his father and shooting colorful sparks from the tips of their wands at him. This made Joonmyun angry. He wanted to help his father, but his mother started to cry so he stayed to comfort her instead.

A noiseless flash of blinding green light, and one of the men who wasn't Joonmyun's father fell to the ground. His mother let out a choked sob, and Joonmyun started crying too, turning away from the window to weep quietly into her shoulder.

By the time Joonmyun's family settled in their new home in America, Joonmyun had all but forgotten the incident. The memory was hidden deep within Joonmyun's subconscious mind to protect him. The existence of magic became no more real than a dream, resurfacing only as wispy recollections like echoes of a past life. They lived as Muggles, among Muggles, far removed from the chaos brewing across the ocean.

When Joonmyun turned eleven, an owl carrying his Hogwarts acceptance letter landed on his front porch. Her feathers were such a bright white against the inky night sky that Joonmyun thought she was a falling star at first and named her Byul. The owl was a gift from the Headmaster, who invited him to attend the school.

The dangerous years had waned by then, so it was perfectly safe for Joonmyun to attend Hogwarts, as long as he kept his wits about him. Even as an eleven year old, Joonmyun was mature for his age. Smart too, but not too smart for his own good. His parents trusted him enough to send him overseas to study, but they waited until Joonmyun was a little bit older to tell him the truth about their past.

The knowledge levied an immense burden on his heart. It tore apart the image Joonmyun had reverently constructed of his father. Even though his father never participated directly, he was an enabler, passing along Ministry information to his friends and acquaintances who had allied with darkness. He detested their vision, but feared the consequences of refusing to cooperate.

Joonmyun's father had risked everything to stand up against the men who had turned into monsters before his own eyes. He escaped, but barely, taking his wife and their young child to seek refuge somewhere far away from danger.

"That's why I became an Auror," Joonmyun says at last. The tea in his cup is cold now. Jongdae is watching him with wide, transfixed eyes. "Nothing I do now can make up for what my father was involved in, but I feel like it’s my responsibility to protect people from the evil in the world. It sounds trite, I know.”

“It’s not trite!” Jongdae says quickly, finding his voice again.

Joonmyun smiles tightly, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ve got…” Jongdae continues, searching for the right word, “conviction. Your past is a part of who you are, but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it’s admirable, no, incredible, that you’ve devoted yourself to justice.”

“You make me sound like I’m a hero or something,” Joonmyun mutters bashfully.

“But you are,” Jongdae says, grinning at him.

Jongdae suddenly realizes that he hadn't brought anything to jot down the details of Joonmyun’s story. But right now, it doesn’t matter that Jongdae just got his hands on the most sensational piece of news in his column’s history. What matters is how Joonmyun laid his soul bare to Jongdae like they've been close friends all these years.

While Joonmyun was telling his story, Jongdae felt something deep down, something absolute. And he's almost certain that Joonmyun felt it too. He looks again at Joonmyun, who is quiet, lost in his own thoughts. There's a slightly troubled expression on his face that Jongdae wants to make vanish.

"There was one thing I wanted to ask, though," Jongdae says suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"I just wanted to confirm...that you're definitely gay?"

"That's still the thing you're most concerned about?" Joonmyun asks incredulously.

"I spent eight years believing you rejected me because I thought you weren't into guys!"

"I never rejected you," Joonmyun says quietly.

"What?"

"I thought...you made a mistake."

"A mistake?"

"I don't know," Joonmyun says helplessly. "I thought you meant to confess to someone else but you found me by accident and then realized your mistake."

"For someone who got straight O's on your OWL's and NEWT's, you can be pretty ing dense," Jongdae laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

Joonmyun giggles softly into his hand and keeps it there, covering his mouth. His eye smile twinkles at Jongdae, who suddenly feels an ache deep in his heart.

Jongdae reaches out for Joonmyun's hand to push his fingers away from his mouth and leans in to kiss him. He pulls away for a second to look at Joonmyun, and then he swallows and kisses him again.

"Was that also a mistake?" Joonmyun asks shakily.

"You tell me."

"It didn't feel like one..."

"Want to try again? Just to make sure?"

A grin curls the corners of Joonmyun's mouth, and he stands up. Holding out his hand, Joonmyun says, "Here." Jongdae takes it, and Joonmyun helps him up to his feet. Neither of them let go, and they're holding hands, and it's nice.

Jongdae is suddenly aware of hands on his hips now, drawing him closer, and the bump of their chests as their bodies collide. But Joonmyun's lips are all Jongdae can pay attention to: the pink dart of Joonmyun's tongue peeks out to swipe the seam between his lips before he's closer, closer. Jongdae's eyes finally close when Joonmyun's lips are brushing against his, soft as a whisper.


And then Joonmyun's tongue is sliding languidly inside Jongdae's mouth, as Jongdae Joonmyun's soft hair and drinks in his fragrance.

"It's late," Joonmyun whispers when they've kissed their way through every room in Joonmyun's house.

Now they're standing on the veranda outside of Joonmyun's bedroom, Joonmyun's arm curled around Jongdae's shoulder and Jongdae's arms circling Joonmyun's waist. They breathe in the cool air fragranced by honeysuckle bushes growing in Joonmyun's backyard while they look up at the stars. The night feels silky and almost dreamlike, no edges anywhere.

"It's midnight," Jongdae answers. "You know what they say about midnight."

"What?"

"Midnight's the point of no return."

"Is this your way of inviting yourself over for the night?"

"Was telling me that it's late your way of kicking me out of your house?" Jongdae retorts.

"Sorry, sorry," Joonmyun murmurs, kissing the corner of Jongdae's mouth. "I was just trying to make small talk."

"Well, try again."

"The stars look beautiful tonight."

"Better."

They're quiet for awhile, and then Joonmyun says, "Stars are the best part of being alive."

Watching Joonmyun's profile illuminated by soft moonlight, Jongdae feels like he's looking at a star millions of miles away. Maybe the star doesn't even exist anymore, maybe its light is just an illusion created by distance. But to Jongdae, the star is just as real as anything else. Whether or not it's actually there almost doesn't matter.

Joonmyun turns to smile at Jongdae and then closes his eyes. He leans in to touch his lips to Jongdae's, dissolving the illusion of distance. He squeezes Jongdae's hand as if to say, I'm here.