#42 The Best of Friends 2/2
Jongin hides half his face behind the scarf around his neck, the winter chill a bit stronger outside than it is inside Hogwarts. He has walked this path from the castle to Hogsmeade every winter, the way familiar as it has always been, but this is the first time he walked through it with a warm body pressed against the whole length of his right arm, a hand holding the side of his waist, close and guiding as they made their way through the snow and winter wind. Jongin thinks he could get used to this.
As they round a corner, he feels the tip of a wand press against his shoulder and a soft Recalfacio murmured to his side, feeling the immediate effects of the charm warm him up. He turns to look at Kyungsoo, bundled in his own thick winter robes, black wool around his shoulders, dwarfing him, the green Slytherin scarf around his neck, black rimmed glasses perched atop his reddening nose. The warmth that spreads across Jongin's chest at the sight is familiar to him now, but it still never fails to put a smile on his face.
"Better?" Kyungsoo asks him a little worriedly, that soft look that melts Jongin every time visible in his eyes.
"Better," Jongin answers, as they continue their walk in companionable silence, the kind that they enjoy the most, when neither of them needs to fill the space with mindless chatter.
Nearing the village, most of the students around them break off to the left towards the station to ride the train back to London, but some, like them, continue on to enter Hogsmeade, the first of its shops coming into view. Like always, even in broad daylight, the strings of enchanted candles are lit above the trees, hanging like twinkling Christmas lights, only this time, as it is nearing the holidays, someone has enchanted them in various colours, alternating in red, blue and green, sometimes yellow, others even a pretty shade of magenta pink. They cast a vibrant light to the roofs of the village, covered in pure white snow. Jongin looks to Kyungsoo at his side, who is staring in wonder at the changing lights.
"Never seen them before?"
"They only light them like this during the holidays?"
"Very near Christmas, yes."
"They're very pretty."
"I'd take a picture for you but my camera's in my trunk," Jongin says sadly, remembering their trunks shipped earlier on the train. He’d really loved to take a picture of Kyungsoo with the holiday candles, so he can develop two copies and keep the other one. It would make a great addition to his other photobook, one he has been making for himself, a collection of pictures of nothing but Kyungsoo over the years, to help Jongin cope with the older graduating this year. He won't have Kyungsoo with him in Hogwarts on his seventh year, he needs as much photos of the older as he can take, to tide him over next year.
Of course, Kyungsoo is not aware such a photobook exists. Not that Jongin plans to tell him about it.
"'S'okay," Kyungsoo says, still looking at the lights with a smile on his face, "We need to hurry anyway."
"Why hurry?" Jongin asks, boots catching on a cobbled stone, Kyungsoo's hold on his arm tightening.
"Careful now," the older says gently, steadying Jongin towards him as they continue their walk down the main street, passing by shops filled with afternoon shoppers. "Well, we need to hurry. You took too long packing your things. I don't want to keep your mother waiting. I want to make a good first impression."
Jongin can't help the silly smile that appears on his face at Kyungsoo's words, heart feeling light at how much the older cares and values Jongin's parents' opinion. Which is unnecessary, but very understandable. His mother will love Kyungsoo, Jongin is sure.
"Hey, hyung. No need for that. She'd prefer if we were a little bit late anyways. She probably isn't even done preparing dinner."
"Your mother cooks?"
"Well, she tries to," Jongin laughs, remembering all the disastrous dinners he's had to eat as a child. "They don't have house-elves in Italy like we do here, you know?"
Kyungsoo just nods, so Jongin leaves it at that, knowing when the older doesn't want to continue a conversation. It's one of the many reasons why they work so well together. They know when to talk and when to let the silence take over them, both finding simple comfort in each other's presence.
When they arrive at the Three Broomsticks, the crowd isn't thick as it usually is. They are immediately spotted by Madame Rosmerta, still as pretty and energetic as always as she bounds to them from the counter. Though as she nears, it is clear that she is not as young as she was, with lines around her eyes, and a little bit of volume around her middle. Still, the years has been kind to her, as they have been to her business.
"Jongin! And Kyungsoo!" she greets them by the door with a huge welcoming smile. "Welcome, welcome! Upstairs now, my children, upstairs now. I've been waiting, thought you might be late, extra preparations and all, what with Kyungsoo finally agreeing to go this year."
Jongin looks sheepishly at Kyungsoo, who's looking at him with sharp narrowed eyes. Madame Rosmerta notices this with a chuckle.
"How many people know you've been inviting me over every year, exactly? All the seventh years were teasing me since a week ago, you know?"
"Now, now, no need to get angry at the boy, Kyungsoo. He's been quite a handful since his first year, this one. Always whining about his "favorite person in the whole world" refusing to spend the holidays with him."
Jongin reddens at the reminder, "Madame Rosmerta! That was one time! And I was 11!"
"Well of course dear, you were. But you were 15 last year when you cried to my shoulder about it, correct?"
"I-"
"Well, now, enough about that, upstairs, upstairs, the both of you," Madame Rosmerta swats at them and leads them to the stairs, starting up the steps herself.
Jongin walks up behind her to the second floor sitting room, quietly, head bowed, the red on his face gone but the tips of his ears still pink. He feels Kyungsoo nudge him at his side. Jongin refuses to look.
"Hey," Kyungsoo nudges him again. Jongin is all shades of embarrassed. He did cry, but it wasn't outright bawling, as Madame Rosmerta has implied. He was just feeling emotional, is all. Kyungsoo has knitted for him a green and silver scarf to wear over the holidays, putting it around his neck as they bid each other goodbye on the steps of the castle. The scarf has smelled of Kyungsoo, and Jongin didn't part with it for the remainder of winter. That very scarf is around his neck now, still as comfortable and warm as ever. "I'm sorry."
Jongin turns looks at him finally, bewildered, "Huh? Why are you apologizing?"
"I should have gone with you earlier," Kyungsoo smiles at him, that soft look in his eyes again. "It's just that- I'm a little- you know?"
Kyungsoo sighs, the frustration evident in his face as he struggles with choosing his words. Kyungsoo was afraid to go, not yet ready to tell Jongin the truth. Jongin stops at the top of the stairs, reaching out to hold Kyungsoo's hand as the older stops beside him.
"I know," Jongin says, voice firm, hoping he can help ease Kyungsoo's worries away. "I know, hyung."
"You- you know?" Kyungsoo's eyes widen a little, the blackness of his irises more pronounced as ever, the most beautiful eyes Jongin has ever seen.
"I know," Jongin repeats, smiling, squeezing the hand wrapped in his gently. "You'll have plenty of time to tell me later."
"Jongin-"
Just then, Madame Rosmerta appears from a room down the hall, a pouch in hand. Kyungsoo bites his lips and Jongin coughs awkwardly, dropping Kyungsoo's hand. "Oh dear, did I interrupt something?"
"What-"
"No-"
She chuckles at them, walking towards the fireplace and pointing her wand at the logs, saying Incendio, where a roaring fire lights, "I'll take that as a yes. But now now, the Lady of the house must not be kept waiting. Come along now, the both of you,” she turns to Jongin and asks, “I suppose you've told him what to say?"
"Yes, Jongin's told me already," Kyungsoo says, a little pink in the ears, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. Jongin can only smile sheepishly at Madame Rosmerta's knowing smile, moving nearer as she opens the pouch of Floo powder in her hands.
Jongin has held Kyungsoo's hand plenty of times before, skinship coming naturally to them when they're together. Sometimes, they forget that others are looking but the Slytherins have gotten used to them, sprawled on the couch in the common room, with Jongin's legs atop Kyungsoo's lap, or curled around each other on Kyungsoo's bed for the night. Kyungsoo likes touching Jongin, little pats, slides down the arm, a hand on the small of his back, around his waist. Kyungsoo is a private person, words don't come naturally to him, so Jongin supposes his touches are his way of telling him what his lips cannot say. I care for you, I'm here for you.
Jongin smiles at the thought, looking at Kyungsoo, who's also looking at him with a mirrored look of softness in his eyes, always present only for him to see.
"I wouldn't mind if you snog first before your travel but I'm needed downstairs," Madame Rosmerta teases, throwing a pinch of the powder into the fire, which bursts a bright emerald green, engulfing the whole of the fireplace with its flames.
"Er- yes- right," Jongin breaks eye contact and stumbles forward, as Kyungsoo shuffles beside him, both of them stepping into the warm heat, like a summer breeze.
They nod to Madame Rosmerta in goodbye and shout together, "The Brickfield House!"
Jongin feels the familiar tug, and then the much stronger pull as the second floor landing and Madame Rosmerta disappears from view, the hot ash swirling around them. Jongin feels Kyungsoo's hand coming up to hold onto his arm, but Jongin moves to wrap his arm around Kyungsoo instead, pulling the older against his chest.
The next instant, there is a roar and a flash of green as they stumble forward together, arms around each other, out the fireplace and into the drawing room of Jongin's home.
Kyungsoo almost falls, knees wobbly, but Jongin tightens his hold around Kyungsoo, whispering, "Easy now, I've got you."
Kyungsoo has never seen anything quite like The Brickfield House.
The drawing room in which the fireplace is located is spacious, the ceiling above them two floors high, a brightly lit grand crystal chandelier hanging down the middle with two smaller brass ones on either side. The room is a pleasant shade of off-white and gold, with hints of old rose in the curtains, fluttering in the invisible winter wind through the open window, where a vast garden of neatly trimmed green hedges form around a flowing fountain despite the cold.
"Mother likes open spaces," Jongin explains beside him. "She maintains the gardens too, complex heating spells all around the house, even out to the gates. She likes the fountains working even in winter. Oh, hyung! Remember, don't-"
"-mention the fountains, yes, alright," Kyungsoo nods, still staring at the room in wonder.
A wall is covered in paintings of various sizes, all depicting various scenes of relaxation and balls in, what Kyungsoo assumes, are different areas of the house, the moving images of witches and wizards providing Kyungsoo a glimpse of the past, Jongin's ancestors an image of wealth and power as they held garden parties in some frames, and large Quidditch matches in others. The other three walls are nothing but glass windows, looking out to the gardens, green and well maintained. Each window is framed by drapes, ceiling to floor in length, long and elaborate in design, with trimmed gold on top and silver all the way down, rose threads in its pattern. "Your curtains are very beautiful."
"Huh?" Jongin looks at him with a raised eyebrow.
"I mean, your, uh-" Kyungsoo walks to the window, a little sheepish at admiring something so mundane as drapes. "-curtains, they're very beautiful."
"Oh," Jongin walks to him, touching the curtain. "These? They've been here since forever. I suppose I should ask Kobby, he'd know a thing or two about them."
Just then, they hear a faint pop! behind them, a tiny gravely voice coming towards them, muted footsteps of bare feet on the thick red carpet.
"Young master, young master is home!"
Kyungsoo turns to see a house-elf, short, almost to his waist, with huge bulging eyes and a pointed nose, ears wide and flopping as he runs to where they are by the window, his dirty tea towel tied around his waist by a thin black rope. He looks happy to see Jongin, stopping a feet away from them and bowing deeply.
"Kobby! I was just mentioning you to Kyungsoo here," Jongin smiles widely, looking at the tiny elf and gesturing to Kyungsoo.
"Young master is nice, mention Kobby. Kobby thank master, very thanks," Kobby says with gratitude, the happiness evident in his voice. Kyungsoo smiles, knowing this means the house-elf is treated well by Jongin's family. The Kims are kind people, Kyungsoo has always thought, but it's nice to be reminded now that he's finally here to spend a week with them. The elf turns to Kyungsoo, an expectant look on his face as he bows again, "Kobby make young masters tea?"
"Would you like tea, hyung?" Jongin asks him, still smiling.
"Ah, no, no tea. I'd rather wait for dinner, thanks," Kyungsoo says politely. He wants to save room for Jongin's mother's cooking. But just then, Kobby looks up at them with moist in his eyes, distraught suddenly on his face.
"No tea, young master? No tea?" Kobby's voice a pitch higher, tight, a hiccup coming up right after, almost ready to cry.
"No, Kobby, but thanks anyway," Kyungsoo tries to say as kindly as he could, not knowing what is happening. He looks to Jongin for help, just as the house-elf lets out a loud wail.
"No tea! No! How is Kobby serve young master's true love! No tea!"
"WHAT? KOBBY! I NEVER SAID- I DIDN'T SAY-" Jongin looks at Kyungsoo in panic, his eyes almost as white as Kobby's (maybe, not but they looked like so to Kyungsoo), as Kobby continues to wail, loud and suffering, the elf crouching to his knees and thumping the floor with his little fists. "Wait, hyung, I never said that- that was-"
Kyungsoo looks on, bewildered, heart thundering loudly in his chest, not sure how to interpret the scene before him. True love, did the house-elf really say?
"Wait, hyung, let me explain- I never said-"
"Young master is say-" Kobby lets out between hiccups, "young master is bring true love home for Christmas-" hiccup, "Kobby is prepare tea downstairs, for young master's true love."
It takes a moment, but Kyungsoo eventually finds enough willpower to let his brain function back to normal, looking at the two before him-Jongin staring down to his feet, hands fidgeting with the silver drape, evidently nervous, and Kobby hiccuping on the floor on his knees, the wailing having had stopped, thankfully.
"So," Kyungsoo starts, looking between Jongin and Kobby, deciding who to deal with first, "How about that tea, Kobby? I think I'd like a cup now."
Kobby stops and stills, looking up at Kyungsoo with his huge bulging eyes, tear streaks running down the side of his face, "Really? Is young masters like tea now?"
"Yes, Kobby, I'd like some tea now," Kyungsoo says with a smile, bending a little, "And wipe your tears, please."
"Yes! Kobby is wipe now," Kobby reaches for the hem of his tea towel, dabbing his cheeks with the cloth daintily, in what Kyungsoo assumes is a copy of Jongin's mother, probably. "Kobby is go make tea now."
Kobby bows deeply before them again, face clear of tears and happy once more. He steps back and then disappears with another pop!
Kyungsoo straightens once the house-elf is gone, turning to look at Jongin who is still staring at his feet, hand still worrying the silver curtain, picking at nonexistent loose threads. Kyungsoo smiles and reaches for his hand, making Jongin freeze and his cheeks redden.
"Hyung- I really never said-"
"You're a shite liar, Jongin, you know that," Kyungsoo keeps the teasing out of his voice, heart still imitating drum beats in his chest. Kyungsoo knows how Jongin feels, how he hates having his feelings thrown out in the open, exposed, vulnerable. The two of them are so similar, so alike, Kyungsoo feels so much love in his heart. "Hey, I won't mention it again if you won't."
Kyungsoo squeezes Jongin's hand for good measure, seeing Jongin visibly relax little by little in front of him, shoulders dropping, tension in his arms disappearing, the coldness in his hand subsiding.
"Really?"
"Really."
"So, a tour?" Kyungsoo asks, wanting to change the atmosphere. When Jongin gets shy or flustered, Kyungsoo always takes charge of the conversation, leading the younger until he relaxes again. Jongin may be mature beyond his years, but he's still young, just like Kyungsoo is. They're both young, but they can be strong for each other when needed be, as they have been all these years. "You said you wanted to show me the library."
Jongin smiles and tugs him by the hand out to the hall.
Jongin is nervous.
He has shown Kyungsoo around The Brickfield House, around his home, the place where he grew up, every room a very special part of him. He showed Kyungsoo the stairs he bounded down from when he was 3, the spot he blasted a wall through when he got a hold of his father's wand when he was 6 and the fireplace on the 3rd floor landing where he lost a tooth after a failed Floo attempt when he was 10. He showed Kyungsoo the library, a vast room of nothing but books covering every wall, the Kim's family tree detailed in a full wall length parchment of portraits, names and titles written in silver and green ink. All of Jongin's ancestors have been in Slytherin.
(This is where Kobby has served them their tea, a delightful cup of Bulgarian High Blend, grown and made by house-elves in the southwest. Kyungsoo loved the taste and Jongin assured him he'd pack him a bag to keep at Hogwarts. Like he promised, Kyungsoo didn't mention the 'incident' in the drawing room. Jongin is both relieved and disappointed.)
There are so many memories for Jongin in this old house, so many things that has stories attached to them, little spots and places, from the Broomstick Hall located at the topmost floor, a vast room of nothing but broomsticks owned by the Kims over the years, to the sitting room overlooking the foot maze in the garden, hedges growing and regrowing, altering pathways every few minutes or so.
Kyungsoo has laughed at all of his stories, like he always does, amused at Jongin's mishaps and adventures when he was a young lad, running around the house and it's vast gardens and grounds. That is one of the uncountable things that Jongin likes about Kyungsoo, that no matter how silly or childish his jokes and tales are, the older never judges, always indulging him and joining him in his laughter and enjoyment.
They have toured most of the house, tomorrow, they will tour the grounds.
But there is still one place they are yet to visit-the kitchen.
Jongin is very very nervous.
"Okay, hyung, so remember what I told you-"
"Don't mention the fountains, yes, I remember. You've reminded me a hundred times today, Jongin, I doubt I will ever forget," Kyungsoo says with a chuckle, patting Jongin's arm.
"Hey, I just thought, maybe, you know-" Jongin mumbles, hand gesticulating wildly between them, "Just to make sure, of course. I mean… what if-"
Kyungsoo's reaches for Jongin's hands, holding both in his own to steady him. Jongin breathes.
"Jongin, I'm the one who's supposed to be nervous, not you."
"I just want you to like my mother," Jongin pouts, looking at their hands between them, Kyungsoo's strong and calloused hands from handling potions ingredients wrapped around his soft ones, more used to wand waving and incantations, Jongin being more skilled in Charms and Runes.
"What? I want your mother to like me," Kyungsoo says, disbelief in his tone.
"Well, I want the both of you to like each other," Jongin declares, a bit petulantly, a childish whine in his voice. "I just want two of the most important people in my life to like each other."
Jongin raises his eyes to look at Kyungsoo, who's looking at him with that look again, the one that melts Jongin's fears and insecurities, that casts a warm glow around his heart, pleasant heat spreading around his chest, a look so soft and tender that makes Jongin weak in the knees.
"Jongin, you know how important you are to me too, right" Kyungsoo asks, sincerity in his voice, in his eyes, on his face. Jongin would believe everything Kyungsoo says, today is no different.
"I know, hyung," Jongin says with a smile, the heat in his chest enveloping his entire body from head to toe. He turns his hands in Kyungsoo's hold, wrapping his fingers around the older's instead, squeezing the warm hands dwarfed in his own. "I know."
Jongin watches a flurry of emotions sweep past Kyungsoo's eyes, changes in varying degrees of so many feelings that might as well be a mirror of Jongin's own. But at the very end, there is a look that hardens in them-determination. Kyungsoo has come to a decision.
Jongin knows what is about to come.
"Jongin, listen. I-"
"I can hear the both of you from down here, you know?"
Kyungsoo's eyes widen into saucers, almost the size of Kobby's, Jongin's own probably not too far off behind. They spring a step back from each other, hands dropping to their sides, cheeks flush, hearts thumping loud.
Second time in one afternoon. How lovely, Jongin sighs, just lovely.
"Come now, down here, Jongin."
Kyungsoo's already making his way down the stones steps to the kitchen, Jongin following silently behind. When they step down on the landing, the floor evening out, they are met with a brightly lit underground kitchen, ceiling high, the room white and spacious, windows charmed to look out into the gardens above ground.
It is just as Jongin remembers it, the walls lined with pots and pans, the counter brimming with fresh ingredients and produce, the stoves always with a fire roaring, heating cauldrons of soup or some other, Jongin never figured out. Jongin has always admired the way his mother always manages to make the kitchen look so homey and alive.
His mother loves to cook, sadly, it never did seem to love her back. This never deterred Jongin's beautiful mother, however, always spending time down here, cooking a meal for him and his two sisters and their families when they visit, as well as his father who never complained about the taste of his wife's cooking.
"Where is my hug, Jongin?"
Jongin smiles and moves past Kyungsoo, running up to her mother, enveloping her in a tight hug, spinning her in a circle before putting her down, a chuckle escaping her lips as her feet touches the ground.
"Good afternoon, mother," Jongin says, bending to kiss her cheek in greeting. He turns to Kyungsoo behind him, eyes asking the older the step forward, "This is Kyungsoo, mother, the best friend I have been telling you about."
Kyungsoo has a smile on his handsome face, the one that sets Jongin's heart beating too fast each time. He holds out a hand which Jongin's mother takes, bending down to kiss the back of her hand. "Good afternoon, Lady Kim," Kyungsoo says, voice deep and velvety smooth. "Thank you for having me."
Jongin smiles at the gesture, looking to his mother to see her smiling too, already completely charmed, just as Jongin predicted. But as Kyungsoo lets go and straightens, the smile is gone, a neutral look back on her face. Jongin shakes his head in amusement. Typical Mother.
"The pleasure is ours. My son here has been wanting of your company over the holidays for years," his mother says, but then turns and asks with a raised eyebrow. "Friend, Jongin?"
"Yes, mother, my best friend," Jongin emphasizes, not liking the way the corner of her mouth has curled into a smile again, but a different one this time, a little knowing, a little teasing.
"Well, if you say so," she says with a shrug, turning back to her stirring, wand in hand. She glances at the stairs that leads down to the kitchen. "Though I must say, I am not deaf, dear."
Jongin coughs, just as he sees Kyungsoo's cheeks colour, "Right, mother, right. Uh- so, what's for dinner? Hopefully not turkey."
His mother turns sharply at him, "Why? What's wrong with turkey?"
"Nothing! Just, last time, it has been a little-"
"Bland? Tough? Overcooked? Over-seasoned?"
Jongin wracks his brain for the right adjective to describe how the turkey last time he dined with his mother and father over the summer tasted but the only word coming to him was 'terrible' and he knows he can't say that out loud. He can't afford to be grounded with Kyungsoo here. He needs to show him around Wizard Woods and Alderley Edge.
"Uh-" Jongin looks to Kyungsoo for help, who's looking at him with a barely concealed smirk. "Uh, Mother! Have I ever mentioned, that Kyungsoo hyung here is excellent in the kitchen? He’s cooked me plenty of late night dinner at the Hogwarts Kitchen, though don’t tell Father. It’s usually off-limits."
This seems to distract his mother from her interrogation, who turns to Kyungsoo with a look of interest in her eyes. Jongin sighs in relief.
"You cook?" she asks, cautiously, as if afraid to like Kyungsoo too much if the answer is 'yes'.
"Yes," Kyungsoo says with a smile, that charming smile of his back on his lips again. "My mum taught me when I was young. I wouldn't say I am good, but I know my way around."
Jongin watches his mother’s eyes light up, face brightening. Jongin knew instantly that she is hooked, line and sinker. "Oh how delightful! Wonderful, wonderful! Are you really?" she asks again to Kyungsoo, who nods, smile still in place. "Well, then, what are we waiting for? We have a dinner to cook!"
"Wait, what? We?" Jongin asks, pointing to himself, surprised at the sudden turn of events.
"Why yes, Jongin. We. Your father will be arriving from the Ministry soon, we need to finish all of these dishes," she says, gesturing at the long kitchen table set in the middle, overflowing with plates and bowls of what Jongin assumes are food, yet to be cooked. "Now, here, Kyungsoo, I need your help with this broth."
Kyungsoo, who has been looking at Jongin with an amused smile in place, immediately jumps to Jongin's mother's side, "Yes, Lady Kim!"
"Oh hush, child. Call me 'mum'. I've always wanted two boys, you know?" she says with a wistful look on her face, stepping aside on the counter to make room for Kyungsoo, who peers down the cauldron, of steaming liquid. "But Seungho only wanted three children. Well, what can I do? But I suppose I'd soon have two, when you move in, of course. Though that won't be for another few years, what with legislations about marriages still-"
"MOTHER!"
"Right, right, where was I?"
"THE BROTH!"
"Oh, no need to shout, Jongin. I'm not deaf, remember?"
The cool winter night air is crisp and sharp on their faces, despite the bundles of cloaks and winter scarves they've dressed themselves in. Kyungsoo reaches over to smooth the crease on Jongin's cloak, despite it being too dark to be seen. Jongin smiles at him.
They've just had dinner, a wonderful affair. He's always imagined Jongin's family, a pureblood of prestigious descent, to be quiet around the dinner table, talking about politics and other serious events in hushed voices as they sip their wine and observe proper table etiquette with their 9 spoons and forks arranged around their plates and saucers. Kyungsoo was prepared to embarrass himself, though he did read up a bit on proper wizarding meal table manners in Madame Luciel's Guide to the Fools and Idiots: Dining Table Edition Volume IX.
But he discovered that his preparation was not needed. Despite the affluent house-four floors, a west and east wing, roof almost the size of half a football field, 100 rooms, 6 staircases and 150 doors-the Kims are simple people. Each room, though decorated lavishly with expensive furniture (the drapes in the drawing room, Kyungsoo learns, is made from France in the 1900s, woven with silver and gold thread), still managed to look homey and welcoming, thanks to Jongin's mother who likes keeping each space open, vibrant and colourful.
When they sat down for dinner, Kyungsoo wasn't as nervous as he was before he met Jongin's mother-now, Mum, as she insists to be called by Kyungsoo, much to Jongin's displeasure who stubbornly wants to stick to calling her Mother as he has been accustomed to-having had helped her prepare the dinner down in the kitchen, with Jongin delegated to peeling potatoes and chopping onions and carrots.
Mr. Kim is as handsome as Jongin, perhaps even more so, tall with broad shoulders, his midnight black robe carrying an obvious display of power and wealth. He tells Kyungsoo the family name Kim doesn't hold the same weight as it used to, though it still does get recognition, and a fair bit of favour over the others, simply for maintaining their good reputation after the war. He tells Kyungsoo all this while waving a piece of potato about, skewered to the end of his fork.
Throughout the meal, with Jongin laughing, his father telling them stories of his day at the Ministry and his mother telling jokes, Kyungsoo felt right at home.
"Heating charms alright?" Jongin asks, burying half his face beneath his scarf, the one Kyungsoo knitted for him as a present last Christmas.
"Already cast about five downstairs and I still feel a bit chilly," Kyungsoo mumbles, rubbing his hands together.
"Well, get on the broom then, let's warm each other up," Jongin hops on the broomstick he was holding, this one a bit longer than Kyungsoo is used to. "It's a two-seater. Called, er- the LoveCouch. It's Father's and Mother's but, well- never mind the name! Hyung, get on, get on!"
Kyungsoo chuckles a bit, struggling to get up at the hovering broomstick. Jongin bends his knees to lower the height, allowing Kyungsoo to swing a leg over.
"So, how will this work?" Kyungsoo asks, balancing himself on the handle, the cushion soft beneath him.
"Well," Jongin turns to look at Kyungsoo behind him on the broom, reaching out blindly for Kyungsoo's hands. "You just wrap your arms around me."
"Oh," Kyungsoo does as Jongin says, winding his arms around Jongin's middle, scooting over closer to him. "Like this?"
Kyungsoo's chest is pressed up against Jongin's back, hands clasped firmly around Jongin's waist, face pressed comfortable against Jongin's shoulder. Kyungsoo is certain Jongin can feel the thundering of his heart against his back. He tries to slow it down but to no avail.
"Yeah, exactly like this," Jongin whispers, voice a little scratchy, Kyungsoo notices.
"You alright?"
"Er, yeah, of course!" Jongin says a little too loudly, stepping up accidentally, sending the broom flying up a few feet in the air with a sharp whiz. Kyungsoo's arms tighten around Jongin instinctively, pressing himself even closer against the younger.
"What the- Jongin!" Kyungsoo shouts when Jongin has managed to stabilize them in the air, the broom flying ways away from the rooftop now, the dark below them illuminated by the moon and stars above. "Careful! You know I don't like flying."
"But you love me flying."
"I love watching you flying. I'd prefer to watch than be a part of it."
"Aw, hyung, you really don't like flying?" Jongin suddenly sends the broom zipping up, the wind whipping against their faces. But it isn't the abrupt frightening motion of before, rather, it's a pleasant drop of his stomach as the younger steers the broom around in a circle, flying higher and higher in the air, until Kyungsoo can no longer make out the Brickfield House save for the brightly lit fountain up front. "How about now?"
Kyungsoo chooses not to respond, resting his chin on Jongin's shoulder, squeezing his arms around him instead. Jongin seems to get the message because soon, he is flying over Alderley Edge, the Muggle village a dotted pattern of streetlights and cars twinkling below them. They pass by the Wizard Woods, full of oak and beech trees, the kind that Jongin's wand is made of. The breeze has become warmer now, still a bit chilly but manageable, Jongin's body heat in front of him helping tremendously. Above them, the stars are out, bright and plenty, dots of yellow and white against the inky dark midnight blue. It's silent save for their breathing and the broom's tail as Jongin does dips and turns every now and then.
Kyungsoo thinks the right time is now.
"Jongin?"
"Hm."
"I have something I need to tell you," Kyungsoo swallows the fear in his throat. His heart is beating a mile a minute in his chest, his nervousness unhideable from the younger. Jongin doesn't say anything so Kyungsoo continues, "I'm muggleborn."
Jongin still doesn't say anything.
"I'm- I'm not a pureblood like you and Malfoy, nor a halfblood like Daley. I'm- I'm just Kyungsoo. Do Kyungsoo. I live in downtown Manchester in a small flat with my dad who works in a Muggle office, my mum who looks after the house, and my older brother who's currently in college, taking up Business Administration. We're as boring as all Muggles come. I-" Kyungsoo breathes, "- I don't know why I'm even in Slytherin."
Kyungsoo hides his face against Jongin's back, even though the younger cannot see him. Kyungsoo feels cold all over, but not from the wind. Years and years of hiding, gone in a moment. Up here in the air, with Jongin and a broom holding him up, Kyungsoo feels close to falling. He isn't crying, but his eyes are heavy. He clings to the younger's waist, hoping, wishing.
Jongin still isn't saying anything, then a dip and a turn and a few more feet high up in the air, above the clouds now, the moon shining next to them. Jongin stops.
"I know why," Jongin says, voice soft in the winter breeze. "I know why you're in Slytherin, hyung. It's because you're destined for great things."
"Jongin-"
"It's because you belong with us, in great company," Jongin turns his head, a small smile in place, torso twisting and looking Kyungsoo in the eyes. "It's because you're a great wizard, with great power and great ambition. And Slytherin is the house that will help you achieve your goals and your dreams.
"But I'm not a pureblood-"
"But the hat placed you in Slytherin, hyung. It means despite being of Muggle parents, without years and decades of magic in your ancestry, the magic you are born with is great enough to be put with us," Jongin is looking at him with the most sincere eyes, Kyungsoo knows he isn't lying. Kyungsoo knows he's telling him what he truly thinks. Kyungsoo's heart swells in his chest. So much love, so much love for this boy. "You're a Slytherin, hyung, through and through."
“You’re not mad I didn’t tell you sooner?”
“How can I be mad? Secrets are weaknesses. I don’t want you stripping off your armor. We all have something to hide, something to keep us intact inside despite not being whole. I don’t mind you broken, hyung. We all are.”
Jongin’s eyes are shining so bright under the moonlight, tender and so so warm, with his windswept hair and the scarf that Kyungsoo knitted for him around his neck flying in the breeze behind him. Kyungsoo is certain he has never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
It's Kyungsoo who leans forward, but it's Jongin who tilts his head and kisses him. The angle is a bit weird, the wind in their ears too cold, the strain a bit tiring, but Kyungsoo doesn't mind. He kisses and kisses and kisses. Jongin's lips are soft, as soft as his hands are, the most wonderful kind of soft, plush and giving against Kyungsoo's own. It's a press and glide of nothing but softness. Kyungsoo is addicted.
It's only when the broom wobbles, hundreds of feet above the air, that Jongin stops and leans back, eyes lidded.
"I really really want to land right now so I can push you against something solid and snog you senseless."
Kyungsoo chuckles, breathless and in love, so young but oh so in love, "Then why don't you?"
"Don't mind if I do."
Jongin steers the broom down down down, Kyungsoo’s arms wrapped tightly around him.
“Hyung?” Jongin shouts over the wind as they descend.
“Yeah?”
“Boyfriends?”
Kyungsoo can’t help the chuckle that escapes from his lips, the sound carrying over the wind, happiness bubbling in his chest as he shouts back.
“Boyfriends!”
Notes:
Mercato Luna - Moon Market
Recalfacio - to warm up
Jongin’s wand - beech wood, unicorn hair core
Kyungsoo’s wand - elm wood, dragon heartstring core
Monte Isola, Brescia, Italy - map and pictures
Alderley Edge, Chesire, UK - map, video, magical lore
Wizard Woods - wizarding lore, walk trail
The Brickfield House - name, drawing room (Hatfield House), French drapes (Manderstone House), foot maze and hedge garden (Chatsworth House)