Summary: Yujin carefully releases a breath, then taking a slow one in. She allows herself a smile, shoves her hands inside the pockets of her pants and thinks I can have this. No turning away, no shoving down feelings.

For Today, she can

Word Count: 15095

Hashtag: #JinjooFiesta_ToFeelSoMuch

 

to feel so much (but pretend we don’t)

 

“You only ever know how to chase, Yujinnie.”

Yujin looked up from where she was sprawling on the ground, the practice Snitch fluttering mildly inside her hold. Jang Wonyoung peered down at her from the broom, hovering low but high enough that Yujin would still need to look up had she been standing.

“Is that a bad thing?” Yujin asked, scrunching her nose. Then she pinned the other girl a look, “You’re always chasing too. The Quaffles,”

“I know. But only the Quaffles.” Wonyoung shifted and her broom veered to the side lightly, circling Yujin. “You chase a lot more. Snitches. Bugs. The raindrops on the window. Our muggle neighbour’s puppy—” 

“Is it a bad thing?” Yujin repeated, slowly moving to sit. With lips pursed she looked down at the snitch, wings still flapping wildly until she reached down, pressed a button, and watched the flutter died down like the strings had been cut.

Wonyoung tilted her head. “Well, no,” she answered then paused—both in her words and the circling motion of her broom. Yujin looked at her and Wonyoung smiled with a slight furrow to her eyebrows:

“It’s just—don’t you ever get tired?”

 

*

 

The crisp, cold air doesn’t feel foreign on her cheeks.

The weather isn’t that bad. She doesn’t feel like she’d turn into a snowman anytime soon, and the surface of the Black Lake hasn’t transformed into a sheet of ice. It’s still cold and while yes, Ahn Yujin doesn’t always like the cold—the Warming charm was one of the first spells she’d mastered the fastest because she preferred to have a semblance of control over the things she feels—today the chilling brush of the wind feels fitting to the gloom that blankets her entire chest,

so she welcomes it.

She her head to glance at the Castle, standing up high and proud from where she’s standing. Hogwarts, her second home for four years and counting now. It has witnessed her smiles and laughter and wounds—physical ones, usually.

Emotional ones, lately.

She breathes in, swinging her left foot and sending a small pebble flying with a light kick. A small huff of air escapes her parted lips in the form of white mist, and she suppresses a shudder when another gust of wind breezes past her.

There was a time where she always equated the passing breeze with a certain someone. How the moment is always fleeting, yet she can’t help but notice and turn around like a sunflower to its sun. A spring breeze, blowing past her and leaving her feeling warm all over as seeds grow a leaf and flowers start to bloom. A summer wind, her skin and burning the back of her neck with flustered sheepishness, a twitch of her body wanting to run after it like a moth drawn into pretty lights. An autumn whistle, gentle colours calming and warming her sight as the windswept leaves scatter and flutter in its wake.

And so she wonders if it was all there is to winter blows—coldness, engulfing and freezing. Just the cold, entirely, biting through the fabric of her thick clothes—stiffening her facial muscles and singing a requiem in tune with the thudding ache inside her heart.

She tries to recall the memories of winters prior. Tries to remember how it was, the wind, tries to remember how she reacted—but she hadn’t gone out much then, preferring to stay inside the Castle, in its warmth, only out and about for Care of Magical Creatures classes or Hogsmeade visits or Quidditch matches and practices. Every encounter with her happened where it was warm—where snow and the cold couldn’t reach them.

Yujin brings her gloved hands up, rubbing her palms together to generate a little heat. She pads along the shore of the Black Lake and lightly pulls her left foot back again, releasing it in a swing to send another pebble rolling—

The pebble rolls and rolls and stops after it bumped against the tip of worn-out boots, and Yujin slows her breathing down at the sight of the familiar footwear, lifting her head up.

“Minjoo.”

She chides herself for sounding a tad breathless, but the girl before her curves a small smile slightly hidden by the blue scarf looped around her neck. “Hey,” said softly because of course Kim Minjoo always sounds soft, “didn’t think I’d encounter you out there.”

Yujin doesn’t expect it, either. A part of her—that always springs up and buzzes with energy at the sight of the sixth year Ravenclaw—wants to whoop with joy or grin so bright the sun’s going to be forced to peek out of its resting place in fear of losing its job. But a small part of her—that tugs her down and closes dark curtains over her eyes—pulls her back into herself, forcing her eyes downwards for once.

“Yeah,” so she hears herself say, ending the single word with a rough clear of to get rid of the squeezing ache that follows. “Wasn’t expecting it either,” she murmurs, wincing inwardly at the hint of defensiveness colouring her words. She looks up and forms a smile, tries to mean it— “Imma go back to the Castle now, though. Take care out there.”

She doesn’t pause to see what expression Minjoo is wearing; she kind of doesn’t want to know, not when the voices inside her head are assuming the worst. She steps around Minjoo’s still frame, careful so their shoulders don’t brush even a tad (even if deep inside she yearns for the contact,

wishes for it even.)

Yujin exhales, “See you later,” and walks off.

If there was an answer, she doesn’t hear it—but maybe there isn’t any.

(There shouldn’t be any.)

She tilts her head to look at the sheets of white cotton covering the sky. Her eyes follow the slow motion of the clouds, lips parting slightly to heave out a breath. Her heart feels like it’s halfway into and everything in her feels heavy; her tongue, her fingers, her steps, like a part of her wants to stay while the other knows she has to go.

“Ah,” she heaves out, dropping her gaze to the ground and curving up a smile that tastes bitter on her lips.

Winter blows are… like this. It’s cold, entirely, biting through the fabric of her thick clothes, but it’s… it’s also. It’s also warm as ice, in a way. It’s cold but it fills her up so she doesn’t feel hollow, it’s cold but it makes her feel and while she doesn’t know if she likes it—feeling when pain is all there is to taste—she prefers it to the numbing emptiness still.

So she thinks back to the soft greeting, to the small smile sewn across Kim Minjoo’s face when she looked up and their gaze coincided. There’s a flicker of pain in her chest but there’s also warmth, not enough to melt the stiff ache within but it’s there nonetheless, silent, present.

Yujin huffs out a breath and enters the Castle.

 

*

 

“Is France far?”

Yujin peeled her gaze away from her stack of Joseon cards, an extensive collectible stack of old deceased magic users whose names were only mentioned in passing throughout the muggle Korean history. They smelled of chocolate and the pictures were still, only moving whenever Yujin specifically touched one; a fact that once made her dream about having thirty-six fingers, dream-Yujin trying (and failing) to move all pictures at the same time.

She straightened up and pursed her lips, “France? Like—like baguette?”

Wonyoung snickered, closing the book she had been reading for the past hour. “Is that all you know about France?” Then, in a softer tone, “Yes, like baguette. And croissants and the Eiffel tower and—”

“Sounds far to me,” Yujin said, shuffling the cards absently. “A lot more far than Busan for sure.”

Wonyoung nodded, taking the remark in. Then, more quietly, “I’m going to enrol there.”

Yujin blinked. “Wh—” she blinked again and asked, “Enrol? Like school? You’re going to a school there?” At Wonyoung’s second nod, Yujin tilted her head and wondered out loud, “Is it because of their baguettes?”

Wonyoung hummed. “You aren’t sad, right?” She dropped her gaze down and her fingers fiddled with the hardcover of the book, tell-tale sign of anxiety. Wonyoung stammered, “We—I know we said we’d go to school together, but Dad—”

“Are we gonna stop being friends?”

Wonyoung looked up and blinked at her, shaking her head. “No, of course not.”

Yujin squinted, slightly leaning forward to emphasis her exaggerated suspicion. “You sure? You can say yes, I’d just hafta chase you all the way to Baguette—”

“France,” Wonyoung automatically corrected, and smiled with fond amusement. “And no, we’re not going to stop being friends, Yujinnie.” She reached out to pat Yujin’s shoulder, “I’d never be something you need to chase. Promise.”

“Stop patting me like I’m a child you’re younger,” Yujin huffed, setting the cards aside. “What did Uncle Jang say? Why does he want you to go baguette and why did you tell me this only now,”

“I’ve only known since last week!” Wonyoung laughed, and she shifted closer until their shoulders brushed then she began talking about it; about France, her grandparents’ wish to get to see her grow up close, about Beauxbatons and the same-aged distant relative in need of a friend, and then about the many ways they could stay in touch because of course they were going to stay in touch.

There’s just no way they wouldn’t.

 

*

 

A soft chime sounds.

Yujin glances from where she’s munching on a piece of toast in her bed, her gaze landing on the small table next to her bunk. The book sitting atop the wooden surface is slightly colouring in blue, and Yujin clumsily wipes her right hand on her pants before reaching for it, half-bitten toast hanging from . Blue is the colour she has assigned for messages coming from a certain sixth year Ravenclaw, Honda Hitomi. Minjoo’s roommate, and practically the person who uses this method of communication the most out of the four owning the same book. Jo Yuri prefers to meet face to face and talk, while Kang Hyewon only writes to them if she’s in need of food and wasn’t in the position to go to the Kitchen. Yujin doesn’t mind writing, but she doesn’t initiate.

It’s a wonder the four of them managed to finish the book project in time for Hyewon’s NEWT, as well as Hitomi and Yuri’s OWL exclusion deadline. Were it not for Hitomi who had studiously kept track of their progress and Eunbi who checked in on Hyewon often enough to keep the Slytherin’s spirit up throughout the months-long project, they might have abandoned the idea on the second week when they realized that they’d have to tackle Hogwarts’ runes and factor in all the casted protections surrounding the land.

Yujin pulls at her toast with her left hand, humming lightly and flipping the book open.

Tall Giant,
I hope you’re not sleeping yet. We didn’t see you at all in the Great Hall during both lunch and dinner and we are kind of worried, are you sick?

Yujin furrows her brows. She takes the wand she’s kept next to her pillow and summons a quill and a small bottle of ink from her bunkmate’s bed, gaze flickering to the closed door and shrugging at the admonishing thought of having to ask for permission. It’s just a quill. She will apologize to Bertha later, and maybe give her one of the new set of quills she’s gotten for her birthday last September.

She inks the tip of the quill and starts writing,

Cheese Bread,
Boppy brought me some toast. I’m not in the mood to eat heavy foods—
 

Yujin pauses, thinking.

—and  who is ‘we’ exactly? If Hyewon’s been looking for me and that’s why she noticed me gone please tell her that I said no to her diabetes-inducing drink experiment

She watches as new words start to form below her own, spending a moment to appreciate their creation. A wandless method of written communication, linking two books or more together and having the lines written in one to appear in another. It’s only able to transmit the messages within one building—or later, one space enclosed with runes—but it makes it perfect for the intercommunication upgrade their Charm Professor said the Ministry of Magic needed.

She takes another bite of her toast, idly twirling the quill—

Tall Giant,
why won’t you Give your house-elf a break—actually, you know what, never mind. Boppy loves the work. As for your question… we as in us, of course, what do you mean who? Were you hoping that Minjoo asked about you?

Yujin chokes.

…anyway, pass on the message to Hyewon yourself. Use the book more, you lazybums! Honestly.

She coughs, taking in gulps of air to relieve her lodged pipes. Hitomi is evidently unaware of the hazard she’s caused to Yujin’s system because the writing doesn’t stop. Words haven’t stopped forming yet, and when Yujin’s coughing has finally subsided another line follows, written in a significantly smaller size:

…also well, Minjoo did, actually. She asked me if I’ve seen you around, but that’s it.

Yujin blinks at the line staring back at her, then the quill in her hold dips into the ink and moves upon the book with a hint of dismayed urgency.

Cheese Bread,
I was NOT asking because of her. Also Hyewon wouldn’t check her book when she doesn’t have her own need I thought you know this 

She deliberates over adding more, but chooses to take the last bite of her toast instead, stuffing the remaining into and chewing slowly as Hitomi’s neat scribbling starts to appear below her slightly chaotic one.

Tall Giant,
you do have been… missing a lot, though. Why? You usually come over to our table a lot. Is something troubling you? Is it the upcoming match? You know us Claws aren’t petty, you don’t have to be afraid of people sabotaging your food or something.

Yujin swallows down, heaving out a sigh.

Cheese Bread,
I think I’m just nervous a lot bc our captain wants us to win this one lol so I’ve just been thinking and practicing. Don’t worry about it

The taste of a lie is cold on her tongue, but she lifts the quill away and waits for the reply.

Tall Giant,
Just don’t skip meals. And come to the Great Hall sometimes, won’t you? I just realized I haven’t seen your annoying face for days. I thought you’ve just been eating with your House, not literally holing up inside your room and ringing the Boppy Delivery Service. Toasts for EVERY meal isn’t healthy so if you keep this up I will actually sic Hyewon on you and we both know it Won’t be pretty.

Yujin winces. The first time something triggered Hyewon into giving them a lecture on the importance of decent meals, the Slytherin brought out a parchment that never seemed to stop unrolling (it was at least five feet long.) There were drawings and an hour lecture that felt like an eternity, Hyewon sounding the most passionate they had ever heard her up to that momentous event. By the time Hyewon felt satisfied enough to end her tirade, butts had suffered and ears were falling off—

Yujin shakes her head. Yeah no, she definitely isn’t looking forward to a repeat of that. Even using the memory as a threat is brutal—Hitomi is brutal.

Cheese Bread,
Merlin’s balls you’re scary

She pauses, considering what to write next, except words have started to form below her short sentence. Sometimes Hitomi is way too fast for her own good—

Tall Giant,
1) I do NOT want that imagery please stop and 2) heed my words seriously and you won’t have to face any horrors. 

Yujin rolls her eyes. She knows that she’s the youngest between the four of them, but getting scolded by Hitomi actually feels a lot like getting scolded by her own mother. She shakes her head and smiles slightly, jotting down a reply.
 

Cheese Bread,
fineee =u= I’ll come out for breakfast tomorrow mommm

Tall Giant,
good. Now do you have anything to share? Minjoo told me that she met you outside a few days back and I’ve just been waiting for you to bring it up but you didn’t—did something embarrassing happen? Is that why you didn’t immediately boast about it?

Cheese Bread,
AHAHA LOOK AT THE TIME WOW I’M GONNA GO SLEEP NOW GOOD NIGHT

Yujin snaps the book shut, ignoring the way its brown cover starts to colour in blue again. She sets it aside, getting up from her bunk and padding towards Bertha’s place. She puts the quill back to its rightful place and stands still for a moment, staring off.

Another soft chime sounds from the direction of her bunk and Yujin sighs. She turns around and goes to her bed, resolutely ignoring the blue book on her table as she lies down and presses a pillow over her head, eyes screwing shut.

She doesn’t want to think about it. Talk about it. Feel about it.

Minjoo did, actually. She asked me if I’ve seen you around, but that’s it.

She places one hand over her heart, sighing out the twinge of bittersweet ache settling inside her chest. 

 

*

 

“You’ve forgotten about me.”

The accusing statement was serious, but a glance and Yujin could see the mischievous smirk on Wonyoung’s lips. Another glance and she could see her father gulping nervously from behind his widely spread newspaper, perhaps fearing having to witness teenage drama. She ducked her head to hide her smile and heaved instead,

“I’m sorry.” She clasped her fingers in front of herself and feigned a solemn face, “It’s true. I replaced you with a Nimbus—”

Wonyoung managed to hold her serious disappointed frown for a whole three seconds before she finally burst into chuckles. Out of the corner of her eye, Yujin saw her father sighing in relief, nervously patting his forehead with a handkerchief. 

“How’s Hogwarts?” Wonyoung asked after her laughter subsided. They had gone two years into their study in two separate countries, exchanging letters and occasionally attaching pictures. Their families met up every now and then, whenever it was long holiday and they went home—but second year Wonyoung was a little different than first year Wonyoung. The letters she received still had a lot of details, still very Wonyoung, but Yujin noticed a small, odd thing.

Sometimes a letter would mention a certain name a lot, practically sprinkled with it no matter the topic, only for the next letters after that to be completely devoid of said name—as though Wonyoung was purposefully avoiding mentioning them, as though she had been avoiding thinking about the person.

“How’s Beauxbatons?” Yujin asked back, folding her arms and resting them on the table. “Your letters sounded magical as always but! I’m sure there’s more—”

Wonyoung sighed, lips curving into a small smile and palms slowly twisting the warm mug of hot chocolate in her hold. “There’s more alright.”

Yujin did a double-take. Was it just her imagination or was Wonyoung really… blushing?

“Okay now this I have to hear,” Yujin said, leaning forward with interest. “You’re blushing,” she excitedly said in a low voice, and when Wonyoung just kept looking at her chocolate Yujin whistled. “Wonyoung. Wonyoung, Holy Merlin—”

“Yujinnie,”started Wonyoung softly, clearing . The movement of the mug slowed down as Wonyoung seemed to ponder and struggle with words.“I, uh—” she casted a quick glance towards Yujin’s father, who did a fabulous job at feigning disinterest behind his newspaper. 

Wonyoung swallowed and said, “I—so there’s this… bagel.”

A small rustle of the newspaper, and Yujin raised her eyebrows.

“There’s this bagel that… has just recently come into my life. I kind of want to try it, it looks delicious and just getting a glimpse of it is enough to make me smile but—” Wonyoung paused, the twisting of the mug coming into a halt.

Then Wonyoung whispered, “But I haven’t ever tried bagels before, you see.”

Another rustle of the newspaper, and Yujin kind of understood her father’s wordless bemusement. She leaned back in her seat, trying to process what Wonyoung’s saying. How on Earth could Wonyoung have never tried a bagel before, especially when in her first letter she said—

Wonyoung ran her fingers through her hair, distress barely showing under the calm air she had always conducted herself with—a manner that had only grown greater under Beauxbatons’ care. 

“I’m afraid to try it,” Wonyoung said. “Because—because I’m not… known for liking bagels. I’m not…” Wonyoung trailed off and winced uncertainly, “I’m not a… bagel-eater?”

The newspaper in Yujin’s father’s hold had slipped down considerably at this point, confused eyes peering at Wonyoung behind brown-rimmed glasses. Yujin tilted her head, eyebrows furrowing as she tried to puzzle out what Wonyoung meant. No one should look that stressed at the prospect of wanting to try out some bagels, so either Wonyoung was a little off her rocker right now or—

“There’s always a first time to everything,” Yujin tried slowly, pausing when Wonyoung scrunched her nose and shook her head.

“I mean,” Wonyoung started again, “well—some people out there—people expect me to… like baguettes. Some people would hate me if I’m—a bagel-eater.”

Yujin’s father produced a strangled sound, but Yujin was sure by now that Wonyoung’s using a metaphor. The bagel was a metaphor. And so she thought more—she carefully considered the topic before this and the distressed air Wonyoung exuded, the name that came and went in Wonyoung’s letters and the slight flush on Wonyoung’s face earlier, the bagels and the baguettes and their shapes and what it could mean when she said ‘some people would hate me if I—’

Yujin expelled a breath.

She understood.

“So,” Yujin finally said with a twist in her guts, “so. What of it? So what if they’d hate you?” Then, when Wonyoung looked at her with a scared glint in her eyes—Merlin how she wanted that look to go— “I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be among them,” Yujin continued, nodding firmly. “Aunt and Uncle Jang would love you, bagel-eater or not.” She paused, then tilted her head. “You know, if anything I’d wonder if we’re old enough to be eating bagels or baguettes—"

Wonyoung made a strangled noise at that the same time the newspaper fell on top of the table with a soft thud. Yujin’s father got up from the seat with a weak sigh and turned to call for his wife.

“Dear!” his voice vibrated throughout the living room as he walked away, sounding mildly frantic, “Would you please come check on me a bit, I think I’m having an aneurysm—”

Yujin let out a quiet huff of laughter, shaking her head. Wonyoung smiled, too, even though the grip around her mug hadn’t loosened and her shoulders were still stiff, tense.

“Do you really think so?”

Wonyoung’s voice was soft, brittle. Any trace of laughter subsided then. Yujin took a sip of her own drink, letting the question to simmer in the air. Letting Wonyoung to mull over it a bit, so that when Yujin answered she had been halfway into accepting—

“Yes.” Yujin paused, “I’d still love you too, bagel-eater or not. As would my parents.”

Wonyoung ducked her head, pulling the mug towards herself and letting out a short mum. “I see.”

Yujin leaned forward, cocking an eyebrow. “Is the bagel good to you? Because if not, as your best friend—”

“Please.” Wonyoung finally allowed herself a chuckle, head shaking lightly. “The bagel is—” Wonyoung cleared and looked up, catching Yujin’s gaze, “she is kind. You—you would’ve loved to know her.”

“Then forget the baguettes,” Yujin shrugged, grinning cheekily. “Now we make sure this bagel likes you back! Okay?!”

Wonyoung returned her smile, her hold around the mug finally loosening up.

“Okay.”

Inwardly, Yujin swore she never wanted to see her so scared again.

 

*

 

Sometimes you step out of your shell only to immediately want to go back in because you realize the world outside is not ideal.

That’s exactly what Yujin is experiencing right at this moment. She steps out of the portrait hole, gets her bearing and takes a sharp breath, itching to step in right back.

“Good afternoon,” Yuri beams.

“We’re here to pick your up,” Hyewon sagely announces.

Yujin’s gaze immediately settles on Minjoo, standing behind Yuri and giving her a small wave. Yujin gives her something akin to a jerked nod, the painting of the Fat Lady closing up behind her. 

“She’s here as Hii’s stand-in,” Yuri rather unnecessarily explains, perhaps noticing Yujin’s fixated gaze. Hyewon nods in agreement, moving to loop an arm around her shoulders, 

“Hitomi’s been going on about how you’re supposed to be out and about again since three days ago,”

“I did!” Yujin defends herself, peeling her eyes away from Minjoo to give the sixth year Slytherin an exasperated look. “I’ve been at my own table, listening to Even grovelling about our upcoming match.” She tries to shrug Hyewon’s arm off, sighing inwardly when it’s proven to be fruitless.

Yuri crinkles her nose, tutting at her. “Well Bech will have to find someone else for today because we’re kidnapping you to our table.”

“Ravenclaw’s table,” Hyewon corrects, gesturing to Minjoo.

“Hitomi misses you,” Minjoo tells her. “She’s waiting at our table and—I think she’s also bringing some letters?” Minjoo tilts her head, “Something like that. She’d love to have you over at our table again.”

Yujin squints. Did she just hear letters?

Oh.

Oh no.

She lets herself be dragged by Hyewon, watching as Yuri and Minjoo walk ahead of them. When she’s found her gaze lingering on Minjoo’s back for too long, Yujin lifts her head up to stare at the ceiling as the tiny braincells inside her mind forcefully drags her train of thoughts back into something less Minjoo. Something that is more square-shaped but no less damning. Something like the letters.

The letters.

Yujin stifles a groan. If Hitomi’s getting letters which contents involve Yujin enough to make her bring it to the one-sidedly-decided get-together, then it could only be from one person. 

Never has she regretted any aspects of her friendship with Hitomi except for the decision to introduce her and Wonyoung to each other.

“Someone’s gotta keep Wonyoung updated because you apparently haven’t replied to her letter from eons ago,” Hitomi briskly says the moment Yujin is unceremoniously sat next to her—thank you a lot, Hyewon. The Ravenclaw sizes Yujin up, “You look healthy.”

“I’ve been well-fed,” Yujin says, not at all sounding like she’s whining. “I told you through the books!” She hears a stifled chuckle vaguely from the direction Minjoo should be sitting and flushes, “I really don’t need to be babysat.”

“No one is babysitting you,” Hitomi finally says, softly and with one hand warmly settling on Yujin’s shoulder. “We’re just worried. You haven’t been so drawn-in from us before, or from Wonyoung.” The gesture makes Yujin feel a tad bit guilty, so she busies herself with reaching for the nearest plate and heaping food onto it.

“You didn’t even know me until third year,” Yujin huffs, reaching for the roasted potatoes. She looks at Hitomi and relaxes slightly at the absence of annoyance in the other’s face, “What did Wonyoung say, though? Anything bad?”

“You’d know if you would just reply to her letters,” Hitomi meaningfully answers. “Something to do with her small bagel.” Yujin can’t help the knowing grin easily curving her lips at that. Hitomi rolls her eyes, the gesture nothing but amused, “She also has a lot of questions about our book project—I reckon getting you to answer those would be better in case you don’t know how to start a letter.”

“Ouch,” Yujin says, accepting the small scroll of parchment Hitomi hands to her. “Thanks,” she says after storing it away under her robes, genuinely meaning it because at the end of the day Hitomi is looking out for her, after all. What a mother hen.

When she turns her attention back to her food, a soft cough comes from vaguely near the seat where Minjoo is sitting.

“Minjoo,” a familiar voice that weighs down Yujin’s stomach greets, “do you have a moment?”

Lucas Hayes. Yujin recognizes the voice right away, has had that voice ringing in her ears whenever silence takes over the personal space she occupies. She lifts her gaze slowly, a start of resentment broiling inside her when she finds that he’s already looking at her past Minjoo’s turning shoulder, the plain smile on his lips barely telling anything to people who don’t know what to look for—but Yujin knows.

I’m watching. Hold your end.

Yujin ducks her head again when Minjoo gets up to follow him. She tries to focus on the plate of food she’s just arranged for herself—except her appetite has long bid her adieu and she really would rather be anywhere but there right now.

So she takes her plate with her and gets up, vaguely hearing Hyewon’s confused where ya goin? Out of the corner of her eye she sees Minjoo turning around at the query, and she hears Hitomi’s voice more clearly:

“Yujin, everything alright?”

She exhales then takes a breath, counting one, two, three, why does it feel like something inside her is going to burst?

“I just remembered that I left something I needed for my next class back in my room,” she answers in a rush, flicking her gaze down to Hitomi and putting on a confident smile she hopes would stick. “I’ll eat these on my way. Thanks for having me!”

“Wait—”

Yujin shakes her head and jerks back, eyes sweeping around as she turns on her heels and catches his eyes again in the middle of that mottion. Catches the slight smirk, the egging glint.

The next steps may come off as a dash more than a hurried walk, but that’s barely in her mind.

What’s in her mind is his voice. Speaking a lot of words about bets and offhanded remarks and she hates, hates how she could glean distaste from his words despite the sweetest smile on his lips.

Yujin tightens her grip around the plate and exits the Great Hall.

 

*

 

“Do you—still like the same bagel?”

Wonyoung paused, her eyes finally leaving the inconspicuous leaves of a plant Yujin wouldn’t even dare to guess the name of. Somehow magical plants in France didn’t really have starkly different features Britain’s plants had. Yujin had wondered why, but didn’t find it in her to ask Wonyoung about it yet in fear of setting the Beauxbatons student off into another extensive plant research.

Wonyoung blinked at her and let out a small snort, “You can just say her name, you know?” Then in a softer voice, “Yeah, I do.”

Yujin hummed, raising the metal rod Wonyoung had handed her to slightly poke one of the orange leaves. The leaf it had come into contact with immediately shrivelled up, releasing a puff of visibly purple smoke that smelt like roasted peanuts.

“I think I like bagels too,” Yujin confessed.

The room lapsed into a brief bout of silence. Wonyoung tilted her head, looking down at the plant and reaching out to touch one of the leaves Yujin hadn’t scared away yet. At the contact, a small flower bloomed.

“Since when?” The question was soft, light.

“Christmas.”

“You hid it from me for months?”

“You literally hid Nako from me for a whole year,”

Wonyoung pulled her hand away, beaming down at the blooming flower tinted in red—and somehow Yujin felt like she was smiling at her too. “That’s fair,” Wonyoung said, glancing over at her. “Who’s the lucky bagel?”

Yujin’s answer wasn’t immediate. Instead she slowly spun the metal rod between her palms and with it her memories—scenes flashing and spinning inside her mind, pieces of small glimpses and greetings making up a story on how she came to know one Kim Minjoo.

“We met in one of the hallways while I was walking towards the stairs,” Yujin recounted, even though Wonyoung didn’t ask for that much detail. “I bumped into her and sent her books sprawling all over.”

Wonyoung nodded slowly. “Go on.”

“She was really—” Yujin exhaled, “she’s really pretty. She’s only a year above me and we’re from different Houses but blue goes well with red anyway so when I crouched down to help her retrieve her books I couldn’t help but blurt out—”

“You blurted something to her on your first meeting?” Wonyoung interjected, crinkling her nose with a small twist of a smile on her lips, amused. “Sounds very on brand. Carry on.”

“I told her I’m sorry but also whoa you’re really beautiful—”

“You did not—”

“I got to befriend her friend a week later,” Yujin explained, a smile crossing her lips without her willing it. “And I occasionally came to her table during meals—well to bug her friend, but also. To greet her and stuffs and I… I think I really like her.”

Wonyoung watched her, the small smile growing into a knowing grin. “I think so too,” she said simply, gesturing at Yujin’s face. “Just look at your expression! Yujinnie, you got it bad.”

She knew. “I know,” Yujin admitted. She had read Wonyoung’s letters, had listened to her going on and on about what crushing on Yabuki Nako felt like. It was warmth swirling slowly and sometimes it was a burning hold gripping your insides; it was the sun rising in the morning but also the yearning cold as night began to blanket the entire town. Finding Minjoo felt like that, too, and slowly getting to know her felt more than a double of that.

“What’s she like?” Wonyoung asked, and Yujin had never thought of herself as someone who could weave poetics about feelings—especially ones outside of Quidditch or chasing something—except she was still chasing even now, wasn’t she, because of said feelings. She was still chasing and perhaps that’s why she had a lot to say, why she found her heart stirring as certain thoughts fill her up.

Perhaps that’s why her entire being lit up as she began to let Wonyoung know who Kim Minjoo is through Ahn Yujin’s eyes.

 

*

    

 

The weather outside is good.

It’s not raining and it’s not snowing. It’s a little cloudy and while cold, the wind is calm—nothing that can’t be fended off by their attire. “It’s perfect for Quidditch,” Even Bech says—captain of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team, sixth year, allegedly a master in reading the weather (he claimed to learn it only because it’s useful for Quidditch and honestly at this point Yujin thinks it’s plausible.)

“Now we just need to be as good as the weather then we’ll definitely get this in the bag.”

Yujin accepts the words with a nod like everyone else, and when their team finally disperses to prepare for the day, she pads her way towards the portrait hole, actually intending to go to the Great Hall for breakfast after a few days of carrying on with her routine in avoiding having meals there.

The act isn’t without its drawbacks. It results on several long essays from Hitomi, a few concerned queries from Yuri, and some messages checking on her from Hyewon. Yujin contemplated for a long time about just ghosting them until she realized that they could very well barge into the Gryffindor common room to look for her, a prospect that terrified her enough to move and pick up her quill. She left them reassuring messages in return, nothing that delves into her feelings (because she didn’t wan