“Kibum!”

He blinked and looked up from his plate of jellied toast and scrambled eggs. “Hmm?”

Minho bounced on the balls of his feet beside him before Kibum scooted over on the bench and patted the seat. “Ready to go?”

“I’m still eating, Minho.”

He snorted and bumped their shoulders together, his puffy coat squishing between them. “I can see that.” Kibum picked up his cup of pumpkin juice and took a slow sip, sputtering when Minho nudged his shoulder again. “Come on, if we don’t hurry, our spots will be taken!”

“All right, all right, calm down.” Kibum grabbed one of the halves of toast on his plate before he turned to stand. “Let’s go.”

Minho grabbed his arm and grinned, pulling him along with the flow of the crowd. It was Saturday, so no classes, and there was a Quidditch game, which was why Minho was so excited. He let go of Kibum when they stepped outside and shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. It was the one he wore on the train – for Machester United. It was Minho’s father’s football team, and Minho said that Quidditch was a lot like football.

Kibum picked up his pace to match Minho’s as he started to jog across the snow-covered lawn toward the Quidditch pitch.

It was a nice day for February. The sky was a bright blue and practically cloudless. There was a chill in the slight breeze that blew right through the sweater he got for Christmas. His teeth chattered, and he continued to run alongside Minho until he split off at the first sight of the Hufflepuff tower.

“Hurry! I’ll meet you up there!”

Sniffing, Kibum rubbed his cold-numbed nose and darted over to the Slytherin tower. He slipped around and past the other older Slytherins who were making their way to the stands.

A bustle rang out across the pitch, excited murmurs and the occasional shout calling to one of the players warming up on the field. It was a Slytherin versus Gryffindor match, so the buzz was more enthusiastic than usual. Old rivalries and all, apparently. Dad mentioned the rivalry a couple times, but he never bothered with it when he was in school.

For Kibum’s part, there was no one interesting enough in Gryffindor to distract himself with that he could find yet.

Once he broke free of the stairwell, he stood on his tiptoes and found Minho sitting on the very edge of the Hufflepuff side. He was waving him over with a bright grin, and Kibum couldn’t help but smile himself as he weaved through the others and the benches to sit beside Minho.

“Who do you think is gonna win?”

“Slytherin, of course,” Minho said, scoffing. “With the combination of their striker and forward, no one can beat them.”

Kibum squinted, nodding. “I don’t think those are the actual names of the positions, though.” Granted, he wasn’t sure. Dad never tried out for Quidditch and Mom was only a beater for her fourth and fifth year. That is, until she took a bludger to the shoulder and Grandma told her that she was not to play Quidditch anymore. Because of this, Kibum never took up any sort of interest in the sport…until now.

Minho enjoyed it, so he attended every game with him.

“Yeah, I know.” Minho shrunk in his seat, hiding his face partially with the collar of his puffy winter coat. He picked at his thumbnail and sighed, glancing over at the other Hufflepuffs. “I don’t know the real names, though.”

“That’s okay. Me either.”

The wind picked up and gusted through the stands, a shiver running through Kibum. He pulled his sleeves over his hands and held them up to his mouth, blowing a little warmth into them. Minho glanced his way when he sniffed, and soon he was slipping out of his puffy coat and helping him into it.

“Won’t you get cold?”

Minho shook his head, grinning as he tugged on the front of his hoodie. “I’ve got my sweater on underneath.”

Kibum nodded, smiling, and turned his attention back to the pitch when Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The players rose to their positions, and with another blow of the whistle, the quaffle was thrown, and the game began.

It was sort of cute, how into the game Minho got every time. He would stand up at yell instructions – mostly in Korean – to the players as they flew past. He would sit back down when Kibum pulled on his arm. “Ah! He should have passed it to her. This is why Gryffindor is fifty points down.” Kibum nodded, blinking in surprise when Minho shot back up on his feet. “Pass it! Pass! Ugh…”

“I thought you were cheering for Slytherin,” Kibum said when Minho was sitting again.

“I still am, but they’re just making careless mistakes. Like!” He gestured madly to the play that was unfolding, but Kibum didn’t see anything wrong with what the Gryffindor players were doing. They were all just a mass of green and burgundy billowing robes and flying broomsticks to him. “If Dad was their coach, he’d be so mad.” He leaned forward and squinted as he watched, his elbow digging into Kibum’s leg.

Movement from above caught his eye, as well as a slight glimmer of gold, and Kibum glanced up to see Gryffindor’s seeker on the move. He nudged Minho and pointed up as Slytherin’s seeker took chase. “I mean, Gryffindor could still win, if the seeker” – he did remember that one position – “catches the snitch.”

“Right. I forgot about that. Football doesn’t have anything like that.”

“Because there’s only one ball.”

Minho snorted. “Yeah, it’s a lot easier that way. Oh!” He grabbed Kibum’s arm and shook it as he stood again, pulling Kibum partially up with him. Kibum focused where Minho was watching to find the Slytherin seeker surging forward to reach the snitch. “Get it! Get – “

“Get it!” Kibum yelled with him, along with most of the other Slytherins to his left.

The Gryffindor seeker shoved Slytherin aside, and then everyone in these stands booed. She flipped over and continued after the snitch that had changed course, diving and capturing it before it reached the ground. A hush fell over the crowd as she fell off her broom and rolled to a stop. Kibum clutched at the shoulder of Minho’s hoodie as he stood on his tiptoes. She stood, brushed herself off, and held up the snitch with a triumphant whoop.

A cheer erupted around the pitch, drowning out Kibum and Minho’s happy yells as they bounced up and down.

This happened almost every time. Kibum always dreaded having to sit outside and watch a sport he didn’t understand or have any real interest in, but... Minho’s excitement or despair at the end of the game always seemed to rub off on him.

It was…well, it was kinda fun.

Kibum stopped jumping and glanced over at Minho, who followed suit after a couple more excited bounces. He gave Kibum a tight squeeze of a hug, shaking him a bit. “Oh, that was so good! When’s the next game?”

“Uh…” Kibum squinted, trying to visualize the schedule in his mind. “Next week? I think? I don’t know.”

The crowd was starting to disperse, and Minho released Kibum before darting off to the Hufflepuff stairwell. “I’ll meet you down there!”

Kibum nodded and hurried to the back of the line on the opposite side of the stands. Did Minho know that he could try out for Quidditch next year? Would he? Probably, given how much he enjoyed watching the game. Also, he was getting pretty good at flying now, too. A couple of weeks ago, he did a flip during class – it had scared Kibum, at the time – that Madam Hooch praised him for his technique. Later, he revealed to Kibum that it had been an accident.

Besides, he said Quidditch was like football, and he used to be on a team when he was back in Korea, so maybe that would help him? Kibum wasn’t sure, so he asked him when he reached where Minho was waiting for him on the lawn. Minho gulped and shoved his hands into his pockets with a shrug and a shake of his head. “Wait, why wouldn’t your football experience help you?”

“I don’t know.” They started walking, Minho setting a quick pace back to the castle. Their footsteps crunched in the thick layer of snow. “I mean, yeah, I played it, but I wasn’t as good as my brother.”

“So?” Minho scoffed, and he seemed to think that that was explanation enough. “Is your brother playing Quidditch?”

“No.”

“Min – “ He stopped in his tracks and frowned as Minho stomped on ahead. This change in his attitude and countenance from what it was not even a moment before was jarring. Kibum gritted his teeth and jogged ahead, grabbing Minho’s arm and pulling him to a stop. “Hey,” he said when Minho tried to pull away from him. Kibum waited until the people around them were out of earshot before he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I – “ he sighed and rolled his eyes, looking down at the ground. “I’m not very…capable at football, so why would I be any good at Quidditch? It looks ten times harder than football so why would I – “

“Hey.” Minho met Kibum’s eyes, his bottom lip trembling. “You don’t have to try out for it if you don’t want to. I was just thinking you might enjoy playing it.”

Minho sniffed and nodded, and he blinked a few times before he gave Kibum a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, maybe. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to think about.”

Nodding, Kibum rubbed Minho’s back until they reached the castle. He decided then and there not to bring up the topic again. It didn’t take long, however, for Minho to mention it on his own.

It wasn’t much -- just a simple comment during the Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor game a few weeks later. Instead of saying something like “Ugh, he should have passed that to the striker” he said “He missed his chance! I would have passed the quaffle to the striker.” Kibum smiled but did not respond.

A couple days later, Kibum found Quidditch Through the Ages hidden in Minho’s stack of books in their study closet. He glanced at the door before he bent down and slipped it out of its place, flipping through the pages Minho had bookmarked. The doorknob jiggled and Kibum rushed to put the book back in his place. By the time Minho was inside and the door was closed behind him, Kibum was lounging casually in his spot, flipping through The Standard Book Of Spells.

“Oh, are we starting with Charms?” Kibum made a non-committal noise as Minho shuffled through his books and found his Charms textbook. “Good, because I had a question about the Locking Spell but Flitwick was busy after class.”

“Pronunciation?” Minho nodded and lowered his eyes with a slight wince. “That’s okay. I struggled with it, too. Let’s practice it together.”

“Okay.” Minho found the spell and placed his finger on the page and glanced over at Kibum while he waited.

“Col - “

“Cor…Col - “

Kibum nodded. “ - lo - “

“ - lo - “

“ - por - “

“ - por - “

“ - tus.”

“ - tuth…ugh. Tuth.” Minho grimaced and banged his head against the wall. “I hate my lisp.”

Kibum slipped his hand behind Minho’s head before he hit it against the wall again. “It’s okay.”

“Co…colloportuth.” He rested his head against the wall and turned to look at Kibum. “Why is Latin so hard?“

Kibum rubbed the back of Minho's head as he sat forward, and Kibum folded his hands in his lap over his open textbook. “It takes a while to get used to.”

“Colloportu…s.” He sat up and scooted forward, finding the spell in the book again. “Colloportus!” Minho looked over at Kibum, grinning when Kibum held up his hand for a high-five.

“Now we just gotta learn the wand movements.”

“Later.” Minho dropped his textbook on the floor and stretched out on his stomach, resting his chin on his folded arms. “Colloportuth…colloportus.”

Kibum joined him on the floor, glancing over at Minho’s books again. His eyes settled on Quidditch Through the Ages again. “Why do you have that?” he asked, nodding to the library book when Minho hummed in question.

“Oh, uh,” he chewed on his bottom lip. “Well, I was thinking, I wanted to…to learn more about the, uh, game.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And well, um, I guess I might want…I’m thinking about maybe…”

Kibum sighed. “Spit it out, Minho.”

“I might want to try out for the team next year…possibly,” he said, his voice trailing off and getting quieter.

“Really?” Kibum grinned as he sat up and Minho turned his head and nodded. “I’m glad. I think you’ll do really well.”

“Maybe.” Minho sat up slowly and reached for the library book, flipping it open to the first bookmark. “We’ll see.”