VI.

“BOGGARTS ARE still all over the castle. More of them now,” Seungcheol, the Gryffindor Head Boy announced in a booming voice.

“One destroyed, two grows,” Seokmin whispered from Mingyu’s side, shaking his head.

“I would like to you exert extra effort to finding all these boggarts. Though not exactly lethal among sufficiently experienced wizards, they cause commotions all over the place. Tonight I shall assign two more parties down the kitchens where damages are most extreme. House-elves will be able to pinpoint exactly where these boggarts may most linger.”

“I wonder how they’re not decreasing in number at all,” Seokmin thought out loud as the meeting breaks up. In his hand was a piece of parchment containing some potion recipes with a bunch of hasty scribbles along the outline which he glanced at half the time during the meeting. Just how much does this Hufflepuff plan to study was something beyond Mingyu’s comprehension. Even a Ravenclaw doesn’t study this much. At least he hadn’t seen one do so yet. “They should be gone by now. Just how many boggarts are there?”

“There shouldn’t be too many the first time,” Mingyu replied, diverting his attention to the boggart problem. “They could have pulled a Hydra on us but I don’t think they like to appear at the same place they disappeared. Immediately, too. Unless.”

“Unless what?”

Unless they were constantly being recaptured and set loose over and over again for some reason . . .

He met Minghao’s eyes on the way out, and they twinkled at the realization on his face. The git knew something which explains the silent smug written all over his face besides the fact that he wasn’t any bit bothered by it. He confirmed his suspicions to Minghao that night, who smiled at him as he his cheek. “There you go, Gyu. Now think harder.”

“You seem to have figured it out,” Mingyu frowned. “Spill.”

“I’d like to see your brain suffer a bit, it’s satisfying to watch you struggle,” Minghao grinned, planting a quick kiss on his lips. “I’m surprised Jihoon hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“If he did, he was too busy with his revisions to even consider telling me.”

“For good reason. We should be revising too.”

“Potions and spells are all I think about all day,” Mingyu groaned as he leaned against Minghao’s chest. “Stay for awhile will you.”

He snuggled against Minghao’s Slytherin scarf and let himself indulge in his cool musk and comforting body heat. There wasn’t any word more befitting than “cool”. Actually, that’s the only word befitting Minghao generally. He was cool. Mingyu didn’t even care looking for another word because he was just that. He was the only kind of cool that ignites a burning warmth inside Mingyu.

That was weird. But Minghao didn’t have to know he thought that way.

He felt his arms wrap around his waist and tugged him closer, his nose digging in his hair. Mingyu closed his eyes, melting deeper into the embrace, and wondered how exactly would everyone react if only they’re here, capturing his unlikely moment of discomfort and comfort at the same time. Mingyu, the tall, most disliked prefect of all acting as the little spoon in the arms of a Slytherin slightly shorter than him by barely a few inches and slacking off. Yup. He’d probably earn a few jaw drops as initial reaction and then a few curses casted at the same time by Minghao’s fan girls. He imagined himself growing blotches all over his skin, maybe have his entire body bloat and float to the ceiling, dignity draining as he bounces off with his cheeks puffing. He then imagined Minghao casting a counter-curse as coolly as he can (as if it’s the only way he does things), lowering him slowly down the floor to salvage whatever dignify he had left and he thought if that was to happen, at least he had Minghao smiling at him and telling him “A few fats would look adorable on you. How would you like a date at Honeydukes on the next Hogsmeade visit?”, which would be awesome. Mingyu was thankful he had been the little spoon tonight so Minghao can’t see that grin he was sporting rather idiotically.

“I thought I’m all you ever think about,” Minghao’s chest vibrated as he softly spoke. “And my lips because you seem to like them very much.”

Cool and smug, that’s what Xu Minghao was. “You are a headache, do you know that? Worse than Divination.”

“I also hate Divination but I shall argue, I am way better than Divination.”

“Fine. Right. I’ll gladly stare at you than sit through Divination any day," Mingyu growled. His interest for fortune-telling was almost nonexistent. He always believed that class was only for the airheads who relied on tea leaves and sweaty palms for their future.

Minghao laughed. “Who would’ve thought the griffin has naughty thoughts too?”

Mingyu snorted before straightening up for Minghao’s lips again. Minghao was right, he really like that lips of his. Actually, he was double right; Minghao was all he thinks about in class as well. Sometimes. But he wasn’t about to feed Minghao’s ego by telling him that.

For tonight, they were paired up again to patrol the dungeons for an entire two hours. They were a few boggarts cramped under the tables, inside the cabinets and at the back of the boards but they finished them off real quick, settling at a corner of the room and kissing as much as they like, as much as they can.

Mingyu was aware what this meant, of course. He knew the risk of being caught kissing a Slytherin (imagine his housemates’ sneers when they do), the risk of being caught slacking on the job, tainting his well-kept record and probably shooting down his chance at being Head Boy next year. It pounds inside his head above all the stress of the incoming exams and the ruckus about those pesky boggarts.  They come dawning at him every time he slips into his own bed, thinking everything has been a mistake and he’s certainly not attracted to Minghao enough to break the rules he had always obeyed by heart. He’d think of all the outrage he’s going to rise among his housemates and his fellow Prefects (maybe not so much with the latter since they probably won't care much) . . . what would they say . . . what if I don’t become Head Boy . . . what if . . .

He will chide himself. He will label himself as stupid halfheartedly and his other self sees through the weak façade, soothing every angry thoughts and he ends up letting out a resigning sigh. He sleeps with the newfound steely determination to ignore the orange-haired Slytherin only to be awoken the next day feeling his chest flushed with fresh excitement to see him, completely forgetting every pep talk he gave himself last night. All those self-reprimanding and yet he crumbles under the very touch and gaze of the man he was supposed to dislike, melts at his kisses, both rough and sweet. Mingyu finds himself on his knees, every time he tries to even think of denying Minghao, shaking his head and begrudgingly accepting the fact that he can’t do it. He can’t stop whatever they’re doing now because he’s just too far. He’s drifted too far and too close to the Xu Minghao that even at his smile, or even at his mere voice, his iron wall melts. He’s far too gone not to smile when Minghao smiles at him, far too gone not to kiss him back when his sweet lips had promised him warmth he had never realized he needed until now.

Mingyu had never failed to ask himself how did it come to this. He had inkling suspicions involving a love potion into his pumpkin juice. Minghao was smart enough to perfect one and find a way to sneak it in his drink without arousing suspicion. As for motives, maybe because Minghao was just desperate. But he didn’t strike him as someone who gets desperate enough to result to love potions. Minghao had always looked the calm alluring one, the one who gets chased after and not the one who does the chasing. Also, if Minghao was being desperate, he must had a bad taste in men to be desperate over him of all nice people.  Anyways, it looked like he really does has bad taste in men watching him now, kissing the severe prefect Mingyu who ruins everybody’s fun as a hobby and minuses points from his own house over the most trivial of offenses. Minghao must have seen something, anything in him to be granting him the pleasure of his kisses and company and Mingyu wasn’t so sure about that either. All he knew was he was won over faster than he had thought for reasons he wasn’t too sure about either.

If it wasn’t a love potion, then what? Was it because he had always found Minghao mysteriously handsome subconsciously? Was his being Slytherin half the reason because it adds up to the y points and the other was just exactly what? Sure, he gives the most excellent kisses (the only ones Mingyu received so far) and he’s told Mingyu “Slytherin is known to be the most ambitious house and your ambition was just attractive”—which was the best compliment he had ever received from anyone ever—but Mingyu wasn’t that shallow, was he? That was what he thought he was before Minghao. Now he was the Prefect Mingyu whose resolves are as strong as a tissue paper splashed with water and that was saying something considering how believed he had solid, iron walls in front of everyone. He stopped bothering himself every time his mind drifts back to this point, thinking whatever paved the way for them to arrive at this situation and looking at Minghao again with a faint glow of candlelight framing his face and eyes beautifully fierce, this was sure as hell worth the trouble.

He was just far too gone now.

And as Minghao clutched his hand when they trudged along the silent hallways of Hogwarts, turning every second of its tranquility and dimness into their advantage, he knew Minghao was far too gone too. Maybe even earlier than him. Maybe even farther than him. The thought burns him inside and out in the best way.

“I saw you,” Jihoon said in a calm, low voice to Mingyu one day, while he was walking up the stairs to his next class. The smaller had caught up with him and pulled his arm to get ahead from the rest of the other Gryffindors heading the same way.

Mingyu felt his insides freeze, the kind he had never felt before. “What?”

“Don’t make me say that.”

Mingyu looked at him doubtfully. “What?”

“Seungcheol saw it too so there’s no point hiding,” Jihoon gave him a sideways glance and cleared his throat. “You and Minghao.”

Mingyu stiffened then visibly deflated in resignation. “Listen—”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Jihoon waved him off. He still looked tired with little dark shadows settling under his eyes. “It’s Seungcheol you should worry about. He’s quite . . . furious about you two not doing your job right.”

“We’re doing our job right,” Mingyu said firmly. “I may have engaged into other . . . activities on the job but I did it right, still.”

Jihoon didn’t look at all concerned at all. He looked as if he wanted to get this over real quick without any intention of chiding him of his actions in the first place.

“I’m not here to stop you or rat you out. He wanted me to tell you a few eyes saw and you should straighten up,” he shrugged, muttered to Mingyu to do what he wanted and that he warned him already before vanishing to his next class.

Throughout the day Mingyu was preoccupied with tangled thoughts and even more tangled emotions.  He made a mistake of mixing the wrong ingredients to his brewing acid of a failed potion. It was a good thing Soonyoung poked him to attention before he could melt his own cauldron or possibly bombing the classroom by adding the wrong animal scale next. He tried catching Minghao’s eyes at dinner by repeatedly his lips. Mercifully, Minghao saw this almost immediately, quirking a brow amusingly as he his own, probably picking up the wrong message. Mingyu rolled his eyes, cocking his head sharply to the side to get his point across and correctly. The orange-head nodded in understanding but grinned afterwards. It was damn hard trying to hide a grin when it threatened to bloom before he could look away, Mingyu found out. 

The Slytherin Prefect did get his message right, frowning in concern as he approached Mingyu down the Gryffindor hall. But when he heard about Seungcheol and Jihoon, he bellowed in laughter. Mingyu narrowed his eyes at him. “Why on Azkaban do you think this is funny?”

“Priceless, you know. Coming from him. Them,” he waved him off. “They weren’t any bit better.”

“How so?”

“I’ll tell you later. What is it you wanted to tell me? Have you figured out who’s been setting those boggarts loose?”

“That’s one,” Mingyu counted off as they trudged down the halls to the north tower. They don’t risk getting too touchy though, they weren’t in the dungeons where anyone couldn’t walk in on them anytime. “And that’s also one. I have two hunches.”

“Impressive, that’s one more than expected.”

“Obviously, you don’t know me too well.”

“I meant I expected you to get your first theory right,” Minghao’s eyes twinkled again. “But proceed.”

“Oh,” Mingyu’s cheeks burned despite himself. “Um, either someone from the seventh-years is playing a prank on us or the admin is.”

Minghao nodded and remained silent, which Mingyu took as sign to continue. “I know we ruled that possibility out but I can't help reconsidering it. Hogwarts is a big castle, there's bound to be someone talented and naughty enough to do this. He would be in loads of trouble yes, but this wasn’t an offense worthy of expulsion as there wasn’t much casualties. Maybe a few months suspension at most though. Someone that skillful won’t be as easy to catch so the investigation could stretch for months and by the time they’re found out, they probably have graduated. That’s the unlikely theory. The other one was probably more likely. Headmaster Hobby instructing one of the teachers to set boggarts on the loose for his own crazy reasons. Probably to . . .” Mingyu’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. “. . . either test the students or the prefects assigned to the job to handle them.”

Minghao nodded. “Finally caught on.”

“Test the prefects to help them select the next Head Prefects. Is that it?” Mingyu looked at him with his eyes dancing in excitement. “This is one of those Headmaster Hobby Tests they always talk about.”

 “And I choose this time to kiss you during patrol.”

“Ah but it’s not your fault I like it more than I should,” Mingyu said, intertwining his hand with Minghao’s behind their robes.

"Would you like me to stop?"

“I don’t want you to stop.”

“Oh yeah, you like it?”

“Shake that smug off, Slytherin,” he grinned. “Bit worried about Seungcheol and Jihoon though, not to lie.”

“You don’t have to,” Minghao squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the window directly above the grounds. He scanned the grass real quick before pulling Mingyu close and pointing at something under the shade of trees. It was so faint, Mingyu had to squint to make out two figures in the dark. They widened when he focuses on Seungcheol (the glaring silver-hair was too much of a dead giveaway) and Jihoon (he knew that elfin height so well), kissing. The Head Boy was leaning down so he reached Jihoon instead, managing to clutch his robes with the same authority he carries around as the Head Boy. Jihoon looked surprisingly pliant and demanding at the same time as he so uncharacteristically pulled Seungcheol closer to him so he stops tiptoeing. An amused gasp bordering on a laugh escaped Mingyu.

“I told you they were no better,” Minghao breathed next to him. “Extra effort to find the boggarts, he said. Do your job right, he said.”

“The plot twist,” Mingyu breathed, still taken aback at the very fact that Jihoon and Seungcheol are a thing. They hid it fairly well. Not too well, though. “Gryffindor Seungcheol, indeed."

“They had an argument. Jihoon ditched Seungcheol and it was hilarious how he tried to convince the other parties to patrol on farther parts of the castle just to seize this moment to make up.”

“Paparazzi.”

“I have eyes and ears, Kim.”

Cute ones, too. Mingyu had to bite his tongue not to get that out.

“Anyway. You should tell Seraphina about what you found out.”

“Why don’t you? You knew from the beginning.”

He smiled and shook his head. “You do it.”

Under the moonlight, Minghao looked as ethereal as a vampire, something Mingyu adds to the list of things he shouldn’t tell him about. He got the idea Minghao hated vampires (even though they obviously don’t exist in that country) and well . . . maybe a bit of himself. That was as much as he can figure out from occasionally thinking about Minghao’s boggart. The late-night dungeon talks didn’t cover this much about themselves yet, but he could feel they’re getting there. Under the moonlight, Mingyu decided if night patrols like these would mean stolen moments with the world's coolest and cutest at the same time then he’d be more than willing to stay longer.

“Oh. Gyu. There you are. Found any boggarts? Oh hey Minghao,” Seokmin trudged into the scene, holding up his wandlight and yawned. “I had Jaehyun as today’s partner and we expelled five boggarts each.”

“Nice. Good job,” Mingyu said, leaning away as fast as he can. "Five each is impressive."

"I don't want to see another clown for the rest of my life. Or I'll jump off the North Tower," Seokmin looked at them with droopy eyes so Mingyu wasn’t too worried about what conclusions his exhausted brain will come up with seeing them so close together. He did worry a little about the jumping off the North Tower though. He squared his shoulders involuntarily across the wide window, hoping Seokmin doesn't notice it while he's obviously out of it. “Are you going up?”

“Uh, sure, sure. Go on right up, I’ll be right with you.”

“Great. I’m beat,” he replied as he stomped up the stairs and yawned again.

Mingyu turned to Minghao. “I have to make sure Seokmin doesn’t stray. Goodness knows where he’ll end up with his eyes half-closed.”

His boyfriend smiled. “Go be a Prefect now.”

“That was me being a good friend,” Mingyu leaned in and kissed him softly.

“Good night, Prefect Kim. Stay out of trouble.”

“Not when you’re the trouble,” Mingyu’s smile faded as he sighed. “Hufflepuffs don’t go up, Seokmin! You’re supposed to go down! Your dorm’s that way.”

“Oh. Right.”

VII.

JIHOON LOOKED fine the next day. Mingyu had a very strong reason to believe that too. He decided it was due time to bring up the boggart problem, to which Jihoon didn’t even bat his eyes at.

“You’ve known all along haven't you?” Mingyu said, eyes bulging as he struggled to keep up with Jihoon. He had longer legs sure but Jihoon had a bigger intent to outrun him.

“Of course I have,” Jihoon growled. “From the moment they said, boggarts at the castle I knew somebody conjured them. Or at least let them loose. Isn’t hard when you’re Deputy Headmistress or the eccentric Headmaster himself. Or when you're a Defense Against Dark Arts teacher.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or Professor Seraphina?”

Jihoon turned significantly red. “Didn’t think it was important.”

“I’ll tell you why,” Minghao materialized beside them, looking effortless as he joined their pace. “They get awfully lovey-dovey during patrol so they wanted to take advantage of the extra hour. And by lovey-dovey I meant making out like boggart lovers in the dark if boggarts do even make out.”

Jihoon went to full-blown cherry tomato red. “And you two weren’t?”

“We merely took a few pages from the Head Boy’s book, Lee Jihoon,” Minghao said joyfully. “Lovely spot too, wasn’t it babe? Right under the moonlight. How romantic.”

Mingyu frowned at the pet name, but grinned at the fact that he had witnessed such a rare event of Jihoon being cornered like a deer in the headlights.

“Fair enough,” Jihoon growled. “I am not a witness nor are you. I will not breathe a word so shall you. Deal?”

Minghao grinned and winked at Mingyu. “Perfect.”

VIII.

Mingyu was made Head Boy the next year, having figured out the mystery behind the boggarts’ mysterious appearance which was truthfully, a set up by the ever strange yet clever Headmaster Hobby. Though the headmaster has made it clear it wasn't the only criterion Mingyu met and that he had made an exceptional job at being a responsible Prefect. Mingyu had found himself looking down and his cheeks burning up when the headmaster cited some of his jobs well-done worthy of the title Head Boy, which earned a collective eye rolls and adoring looks from most of the audience. 

Mingyu had significantly eased down a few notches of severe as Head Boy too, and though he wasn’t the most liked among the prefects still, he had swore to continue Choi Seungcheol’s legacy as Head Boy.

If you know what I mean.

IX.

“YOU AND your naughty ways put Slytherin to shame, Gryffindor.”

“You can’t have all the fun.”

“I am part of the fun.”

“Shut up.”