life was never worse, but never better ; part iv

[januarys_lovers]

The Animagus Registry is an incredibly short list, with so little names that they don't even take the whole page. Those six or seven wizards and witches don't leave room for any mistake either, and Chanyeol finds himself glaring at the piece of parchment again. Jongdae gave him the idea three days ago, when he informed Chanyeol that he checked the Registry just in case there would indeed be an Animagus with a rat as their animal form. Upon hearing Jongdae couldn't find anything, Chanyeol decided to take a look at it himself. He's been reading the list for the past three days now, but seven names don't leave room for any mistakes. There isn't a single one rat Animagus, or a mouse one. Not even a shrew. It just validates Jongdae's decision to wait and find out what his dream means before telling the Order, or anyone, but Chanyeol... Chanyeol can't have that.

He hasn't talked to Kyungsoo since their last conversation, because he's still too angry to even look at the one-year younger auror, but the Ministry attack happened almost two weeks ago, and Chanyeol isn't nowhere near catching the wizard who cursed Jongdae. He's starting to grow impatient, and not only because he needs to prove Kyungsoo how wrong he was, that Jongdae's life isn't just a risk he can choose to take. It's starting to get under his skin, because everytime Chanyeol enters Jongdae's room in St Mungo, he's reminded of all the memories Jongdae has been deprived, the days of his life he'll never get back and how easily it would have been for the culprit to kill Jongdae. In all honesty, it's driving him crazy, and that stupid list, with its seven or six names, really doesn't help. That dream has to mean something, because if it's just a dysfunction of Jongdae's memory after the trauma it went through, like Pollingtonious suggested, then it means they have squat.

Chanyeol grumbles, throwing the parchment on his desk. Maybe he's missing something, maybe he's not looking at it at the right angle. He closes his eyes and leans down, until his forehead hits the surface of his desk, and stay there, motionless. He tries not to think about Jongdae and what he could be doing right now, which, of course, reveals to be a lost cause. Jongdae is probably driving the mediziwards taking care of him crazy, his smile and numerous cameos of his pouts being the only reasons why none of them has snapped at him yet. Just the mere idea of Jongdae arguing with the old Pollingtonious -you have to let me go I'm okay there's no side effects give me back my freedom!- manages to loosen the tension in Chanyeol's shoulders.

He breathes in, slowly and multiple times. He needs to draw up a new plan, because he's been in a dead-end for too long now, and it obviously won't lead him anywhere. And he needs to stop thinking about visiting Jongdae every two seconds, that would probably help.

“Park!”

Chanyeol straightens on his chair so fast his neck cracks. His eyes narrow at Kyungsoo standing in front of his desk, but the bitter words get stuck on the back of his throat when he notices Kyungsoo's wand in the latter's hand.

“St Mungo is being attacked,” Kyungsoo tells him. “We need to go, now.”

Before Chanyeol can say anything, Kyungsoo grabs him by the shoulder, and colors turn into powerful winds with a snap, while the air in Chanyeol's lungs solidify, threatening to make them burst. He's always hated disapparating under someone's else control, the sensations already nasty enough like that, but the familiar pull in his stomach now mixed to the rise of a panic attack in his chest bring him to a whole new level of sickness. Kyungsoo's digits dig deeper into the flesh of his shoulder, and Chanyeol finally closes his eyes, the kaleidoscope of colors blinding him through his eyelids. They land abruptly-well, Chanyeol does. He loses his balance, his body still sitting at the memory of his desk, and falls backwards. Kyungsoo merely throws him a look, his round eyes already scanning the room.

His own wand ready to spurt lightnings, Chanyeol looks around, still on the floor. They're in the fourth floor's lobby, and the place is a mess.

“Get up,” Kyungsoo grumbles, but he doesn't even let Chanyeol a chance to get back on his feet by himself. He grabs him by the shoulder again, and pulls him up with a strong grip. Chanyeol is two heads taller than him, but Kyungsoo manhandles him so easily it's disturbing. He tightens his fingers around Chanyeol's shirt and pulls him closer, just in time to avoid a collision with a running wizard.

“Two of you?!,” a very infuriated Pollingtonious barks, stopping before them. “Our hospital is being attacked, and only two of you are sent?!”

Chanyeol glares at Kyungsoo as he shakes him off, before facing Pollingtonious. He's usually sent on more discreet missions, when Death Eaters lurk in the dark more than when they barge into other people's daily life, but he's still seen that scene a billion times already. St Mungo is supposed to be a safe place, that's what he can read on everyone's face, except that it's not, and they're learning it the hard way. Someone bumps into him, but they're gone before Chanyeol looks over his shoulder. They're all running around, like mice trying to escape from a hungry cat, and it would be pathetic, even laughable, if Chanyeol's legs weren't itching with the same need to dash off.

“What happened?” he asks the Healer-in-charge.

“We're being attacked by a bunch of Death Eathers, that's what is happening!” Pollingtonious snaps back at him. The old man's veins are so swollen Chanyeol can see them thumping along with his heartbeat on his temples. “They just apparated here and they went through the doors,” he gestures towards the double doors leading the protected wing of the fourth floor. “We have some patients that can't move, you know! How only two of you could--”

“When was it?” Kyungsoo cuts him, sharp and looking so not affected by Pollingtonious' anger that the latter starts huffing and puffing, fingers clenched on his wand. “How long has it been since they apparated?” Kyungsoo repeats, urging.

He clashes violently against the panicked background, so solid and consistent, so much that people avoid him without even thinking about it when they keep bumping into Chanyeol. Some of them are getting closer, glancing then staring at Kyungsoo, irremediably attracted by the control radiating from Kyungsoo. Pollingtonious seems immune though, because Kyungsoo's calm only makes him flare his nostrils even more.

“Five minutes?” he ventures.

Chanyeol grabs Kyungsoo's elbow, and the latter looks back at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Five minutes,” Chanyeol repeats, and Kyungsoo nods.

“I overheard Mungo Bonham's painting telling Junmyeon about the attack,” Kyungsoo explains. “You know him, he would never send anyone without a semblance of tactics. They'll be there soon.”

Chanyeol nods, his body moving without his consent as he risks a step back. Kyungsoo's eyes narrow at him.

“They're still here so you'll have to be careful,” he reminds Chanyeol

That's all he needs. He turns on his heels and darts towards the double door, elbowing his way through the mass of people. Pollingtonious' screams follow him, high pitched and reaching a whole new level of anger, but they lose a bit of their panache in the sea of people opening before Chanyeol.

“What are you doing?! You're all alone and you don't even know where--”

Chanyeol runs through the double door, and it swallows the end of the Healer-in-charge's sentence, the protection spell guarding it being soundproof as well. If he wasn't so dead scared right now, pins and needles of icy fear piercing his skin at every strides of his long legs, he'd be snorting at those spells supposed to protect the patients. They obviously didn't do much against the Death Eaters, and they probably barely slowed them at all. Which means that, in the five minutes they've been there already, they have most surely reached Jongdae's room, who represents the only reason why a bunch of Death Eaters would take the risk to raid St Mungo.

Kyungsoo's right, Junmyeon's team will be there in less than five minutes, but it takes less than one to curse someone, and they both know it. Most of the time, Kyungsoo is difficult to decode, but Chanyeol has been working with him for years now, and there are things he's learned at Kyungsoo's expense. Once again, the most important one being that Kyungsoo hates working in pair, he hates having to slow down and be careful, but he still took Chanyeol with him. It's obviously not in the name of their friendship, since Chanyeol hasn't spoken to him in days. This Kyungsoo, the stiff Kyungsoo clenching his jaws and snapping at him, will be the closest thing to an apologetic Kyungsoo Chanyeol will get, but it's more than enough.

Chanyeol barges into Jongdae's corridor and, carried away by his own speed, he crashes against the wall. His brain barely registers the pain as he regains his balance by using the wall as a support, still running towards Jongdae's room. He enters it with his wand raised high, and a litany of the most aggressive spells ready to go past his lips.

Jongdae's bed is empty. His blankets are dangling off the edge of his bed, as if someone has jumped out of it with their legs still tangled in the sheets. Irregular burn marks are painting the walls, next to Chanyeol's head, and next to the bed, and the air tingles on the back of Chanyeol's tongue, heavy with the aftermath of strong and powerful spells. The most obvious sign that a fight happened here though, is the body lying on the floor, next to the bed.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol mumbles as he crouches down next to the corpse.

It's the blushing and giggling nurse from the other day. Her beautiful hair, so blond it's almost white, is spread out under her head, like a pillow. She wears the same lipstick -crimson red over white teeth- and she looks at the ceiling as if it caught her off guard and affronted her at the same time, the coldness in her blue eyes the only thing left of what was probably a deep glare. The pieces click together with a loud snap in Chanyeol's head when his eyes settle on the Dark Mark on her arm.

“Jongdae,” he whispers, glancing at the sheets hanging off the bed. Memories of Jongdae plunging under the meeting room's table and dodging Chanyeol's charms flash through his mind, and a tiny smile pulls up at the corner of his lips. Jongdae probably heard the commotion, and he was quick to react.

Chanyeol glances back at the nurse, at her carefully painted nails and the wand still in her hand. She probably didn't have the time to cast a spell of any sort. She lead the other Death Eaters in Jongdae's room, expecting an easy kill, but Jongdae was prepared.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol repeats as he leaves the nurse behind, and runs out of the room.

She heard that Jongdae was trying to remember who cursed him, and they obviously don't want Jongdae to win over the confusion left by the Imperius curse.

The protective spells surrounding this wing of the fourth floor keep people from apparating and disapparating, which is both a good and a bad thing right now. It means that Jongdae is close, but also that he's unable to magically flee from his asaillants. St Mungo is huge though, only a condemned department store on the outside, but a building large enough to welcome and treat the whole wizarding population of Britain on the inside, and there are too many intersections. At the fifth one, Chanyeol slides with a squeaking of his sole and finally comes to a halt, erratic breathing burning his lungs, and legs both begging him to keep running and about to give in. He eyes his two options -right or left- and bites hard on his lower lip, fingers tightening around his wand so much that his knuckles turn white.

“Okay,” he exhales, eyes going back and forth from the left corridor to the right one. He feels his veins swell with the adrenaline his neurous system has kept producing for the past ten minutes, and the ticking in his mind is still as loud, sharper with every second passing by. Jongdae has been alone with very determined Death Eaters for at least thirteen minutes now.

“Okay,” he repeats before pressing the tip of his wand on his vocal chords. He breathes in as much air as he can, and lets the seven letters explode in both his mind and the corridor.

“JONGDAE!”

His voice echoes through the wing, thunders in the walls, and probably attracts every Death Eater in the hospital, but Chanyeol couldn't care less. He needs a sign, anything, and if it has to come in the form of a black-robed wizard coming out from the left -or right- corridor, he'll gladly take it.

Suddenly, he hears it. It's a faint sound, a distant voice, but Chanyeol would recognize it in a blink of an eyes. Oddly enough, as he rushes through the left corridor, eagerly following the shadow of Jongdae's last intonations, he finds himself thinking about the closet, and how low and tired Jongdae's voice had been at that moment. He's running faster than he's ever run, white spots filling his vision and his breath long lost. His mind is growing stronger though, as Chanyeol musters the cold determination one needs to cast an Unforgivable curse. He's never done it, even since Bartemius Crouch's edict allowed aurors to employ them against their enemies, but he knows how they work. He'll kill whoever he'll find with Jongdae.

He barges into an umpteenth corridor, now following more than just the memory of Jongdae's voice, since crashing and sizzling sounds are echoing all around him. They're both urging, signs that the fight is still in full swing, and relieving, because they prove Jongdae is still standing his ground. It feels like the noise is getting closer with every corridor Chanyeol runs through, and farther away because there's always a new corridor.. Jongdae feels more out of reach than ever, but now's not the time for him to slip out of Chanyeol's hands again.

Chanyeol is half panting, half sobbing, panic swelling in his chest at a dangerous pace, when someone bursts out of a door a few meters ahead of him. Chanyeol sees his eyes widening through the silver mask he wears, and the absence of wand in his hand. The Death Eater rushes to the end of the corridor, but Chanyeol is already aiming at him.

He unleashes the anger, the fear and the numerous pictures of Jongdae laughing and smiling invading his mind, and raises his wand, the articulation in his wrist prickling at the old and dangerous magic he's about to employ. The Death Eater shields himself with his arms probably realising that he won't make it to the corner, but it won't make any difference, and Chanyeol almost rejoices at this, the shadow of the killing curse already bitter in his mind.

“Avada kedavra!”

The green spurting out of the tip of Chanyeol's wand is of a pale shade of viridian, shaky and elusive, far from the deep emerald he's seen countless of times. He knows it's not going to do much even before it hits the black-robed wizard in the middle of his back. The latter falls forward with a yelp, with probably nothing more than a nosebleed, and it angers Chanyeol even more. He doesn't care about rightful anger, or nerve, or dark magic, he just wants that wizard dead. So when the latter stumbles back on his feet and dashes off, almost plunging behind the corner to flee, Chanyeol follows with clenched jaws. The Death Eather is unarmed, and he can't disapparate. Chanyeol is a fast runner.

He musters his strength, tries to focus on the right shade of green this time, and convinces his mind he really wants this as he launches himself behind the Death Eater.

But then he hears it. Someone groans in the room, followed by a thud and another pained moan.

Chanyeol blinks, surprised, and glances at the room the Death Eater came from, only realising now that the spell sounds have stopped, because he obviously had the last of Jongdae's asaillants right before him. He glances at the end of the corridor, still trying to catch his breath. He has one of Voldemort's minions desarmed and powerless only a few steps ahead, and even though Chanyeol doubts Voldemort would have sent someone from his inner circle of followers in the trap that is St Mungo, the Death Eater could still have some pretty useful informations to confess once he'll be motivated, with the threat of a Dementor's kiss for example.

On the other hand, Jongdae is in the room, and from the sounds Chanyeol catches, he's still alive, but probably hurt and bleeding, and...

Chanyeol deflates. He's never been much of an auror near Jondgae, anyway.

Without another glance at the corridor, he turns on his heels and closes the distance between him and the room. The distant steps he can hear resonating in the silence around him tell him the Death Eater is running for his life, and Chanyeol lets him. He hurries into the room and grimaces at the mess inside.

There's not a single piece of furniture that hasn't blown up, and the marks on the walls, probably still warm, infect the oxygen and leave a burning taste on the back of Chanyeol's tongue. Some sections of the walls have fallen to the ground, projeting flowers made of plaster on the ground, and the ceiling is striated with friable cracks. The window is now glassless, and the noise of the muggle street comes in muffled and barely louder than a whisper because of the concealment spells hiding the hospital. Chanyeol stumbles over a slat, and avoids the fall by stuggering deeper into the room, furiously waving his arms to regain his balance. He gasps when a piece of wall raises itself, grumbling and panting, and the surprise has him falling once and for all, straight onto the piece of plaster.

“Ouch!”

Chanyeol's eyes widen. He gets back up on his knees and hastens to pull away the piece of wall. Another pair of hands come to help him, and Chanyeol catches them as soon as soon as he can. Right there, lying down between his thights and half of his face covered with a thin layer of plaster, tiny particles of white dust caught in his lashes and eyebrows, and the other half sticky with blood and perspiration, is Jongdae.

Chanyeol bites his lower lip as he takes in the scratches and burn marks all over Jongdae's face with his heart thumping painfully loud in his chest.

“Jongdae,” he breathes, pulling his hand out of Jongdae's fingers to bring it to the latter's face. He hovers the sharp line of his cheekbone, and frowns when Jongdae flashes him a grin, making the cut on his cheek bleed a little more.

“You think I'm in a bad state?” Jongdae chirps. He wiggles his eyebrows at Chanyeol. “Then you should see them.”

Chanyeol stares, bewildered. Jongdae's bangs are dripping blood straight onto Jongdae's forehead, but that idiot still looks infuriatingly smug. Chanyeol lets go of his hands and straightens, his knees still bracketing Jongdae's small waist.

“You-I can't believe you, are you fucking for real, I just--,” Chanyeol snaps.

He groans and leans down, pressing his lips against Jongdae's growing grin, in the hope that it would swipe away the pleased look plastered on Jongdae's face. He quickly forgets to pull away and check if it did when Jongdae kisses him back though, and soon enough, Chanyeol is sliding his right hand along Jongdae's neckline. His fingers stroke fondly Jongdae's jawline before stopping on his chin and tilting his head backwards for a better access to his lips. Jongdae breathes out through his nose at the gesture and raises a hand to curl his fingers on Chanyeol's nape as he parts his lips with a soft whine. Chanyeol's lips are barely moving, his nerve endings already on fire just at the simple peck, but the attraction is too strong, and he finds himself darting his tongue out curiously. Jongdae puts his free hand over Chanyeol's on his face and links their fingers, his thumb stroking softly Chanyeol's wrist.

Chanyeol has to pull away for air before they get a chance to really deepen the kiss, his heart thumping against his ribcage, but he refuses to let go. He grabs Jongdae by the shoulders and pulls him up against his chest, wrapping him into a tight embrace. Jongdae is so small against him, his body so delicate that Chanyeol's palm covers the back of his head, and it has his whole body shrinking, pressing itself harder against Jongdae and trying to fill the slighest space left between them. Jongdae locks his arms on the small of Chanyeol's back, his whole face pressed against Chanyeol's chest.

Chanyeol hears the rumpus of footsteps getting closer, but when they stop at the door behind him, he doesn't pull away, instead holding Jongdae tighter against him.

“Don't stay there,” he groans disapprovingly and commanding. “They're probably gone already but at least try to catch them.”

Someone sighs, and the footsteps break the silence again, this time getting more distant with every second passing by. From the speed, Chanyeol guesses that Jongin is the one who sighed, but he can't really be sure. All he knows is that it wasn't Kyungsoo, otherwise he would have been grabbed by the scruff of the neck and thrown back into the pursuit of Death Eaters already. Junmyeon and the others are probably surrounding the protected wing, trying to intercept the Death Eaters. They were attacking one person, a whole group of Death Eaters against a single man, a patient in a hospital on top of that, and it doesn't take a genius to know that they were cowards. And cowards flee the second they lose their advantages.

Chanyeol slightly turns his head to kiss Jongdae's temple softly. Kyungsoo may have saved Jongdae's life. Everything could have been so different if Chanyeol had arrived only two minutes later, but Chanyeol doesn't want to dwell on that. Jongdae is solid and strong against him, all curves and delicate lines, and for once, he's not slipping away. Chanyeol kisses the end of his eyebrow again, and Jongdae hums in pleasure.

“You should kiss me again,” he tells him, his voice muffled against Chanyeol's chest. “On the lips.”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol mumbles, but he kisses Jongdae's closed eyelid anyway.

Chanyeol feels a rush of bubbly and light sensations swell in his chest, and he grumbles, glaring over his shoulder at Junmyeon's patronus, a graceful and mischievous-looking white ermine that keeps hoping around the circle of aurors. Everytime it gets closer, Chanyeol is flooded by the most random moments he shared with Jongdae, from the meetings in St Mungo's tea room to the late night debriefings with Junmyeon. In all honesty, Chanyeol has finally given in to Jongdae and stopped lying to himself about his feelings, so he would gladly bask in the bright light of these memories, but now's just not the time. Jongdae is a few steps ahead, sitting on a stool with his blood still running down his face while Soojung is examinating him, and he'd rather focus on that Jondgae, the real one, instead of running after Junmyeon's patronus. Soojung is a great auror, but what makes her better than most of them is how talented she is with healing spells. Jongdae is way safer here, in the security of their office and between Soojung's hands, than in that hospital with stupid and useless protective spells.

“Chanyeol” Junmyeon scowls him. “Stop trying to kick my patronus.”

Chanyeol grumbles under his breath, but lets Junmyeon's ermine slide between his ankles as he draws back his attention on Jongdae, the latter eyeing Soojung while she examines the long cut along his hairline. Chanyeol leans down over her shoulder, and makes a face at the wound, gripping her arm tighly. Soojung closes her eyes.

“Junmyeon,” she says, thunder threatening to explode in the fake peacefulness of her voice. “Tell him to stand back before I stab him in the eye with my wand.”

Jongin chuckles in his back, and Chanyeol turns around to glare at him.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon sighs. “Let Soojung work, would you?”

“Hyung,” Jongdae intervenes. “I'm okay, so just... please. You're embarrassing,” he whines.

“I feel like I'm the only one realising what just happened?” Chanyeol snaps. “He got attacked in fucking St Mungo! A bunch of Death Eaters tried to kill him, and they almost did!”

“Happened to me no later than this morning,” Kyungsoo says with a blank voice. “And I didn't make a big deal out of it.”

This time, Kyungsoo is the one glaring at Jongin when the latter starts chuckling again, but it's way more efficiant than Chanyeol, since Jongin straightens and gulps down, bitting his inner cheek.

“The point is,” Kyungsoo continues, narrowing his eyes at Jongin whose lips twitch around the smile he's so desperate to let out. Kyungsoo finally gives in and turns around, strong eyes piercing Chanyeol and holding him in place. “It's our job. His job. It will happen again.”

Chanyeol clenches his fists, ready to protest, but Jongdae cuts him short by grabbing one of his hands out of the blue. Chanyeol quickly forgets the words he wanted to throw at Kyungsoo, and stares at Jongdae's fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Thank you for your intervention, Kyungsoo,” Jongdae sighs, rolling his eyes.

He winces when Soojung presses the tip of her wand against the cut on his forehead and scrunches his nose as the edges of the wound slowly get closer, magic sewing new cells where there was nothing the instant before. Chanyeol rotates his wrist between Jongdae's fingers, and closes his own around the latter's bony wrist. His chest swells when he catches Jongdae's pulse with his fingertips, and he looks away, his heart slightly speeding up. It's the first physical contact they share since the kiss earlier in St Mungo, and it's a very chaste one, but it's a stronger one, somehow. There's no destruction around them, no death threats anymore, there's just Chanyeol and Jongdae, and if they're holding hands, it just means that they want to. And it's just confusing because it was Jongdae reaching out to him, and not Chanyeol. Now that he has Jongdae's hand though, he's not going to let go.

“So what?” Chanyeol finally ask, sligthly deflating. The tension in his shoulders loosens up, and he glances down at Jongdae who's already watching him with a tiny smile. Chanyeol sighs and looks at Junmyeon. “What are we going to do?”

Junmyeon merely shrugs.

“What is there to do? It's not like we can go full vendetta on You-Know-Who.” He pauses and frowns under his new bangs, longer, slightly curled and of a dark shade of plum. “He probably sent the Death Eaters for a reason though...” he trails off, looking at Jongdae.

The latter nods, willingly stretching his free arm so Soojung can take a look at it.

“The nurse. She was a Death Eater, and she heard me saying that I was starting to remember things. I think they do not want me to.”

Junmyeon's eyes go from Chanyeol to Jongdae, insistent and maybe a little angry. He leans closer, his patronus adopting the same position, its tiny nose directed straight at Jongdae.

“And do you?” Junmyeon asks. “Remember, I mean.”

There's a veil of darkness falling over Jongdae's face, like a sudden night eating away daylight, and he shakes his head.

“No. I thought I did. I had some flashbacks, and I even had a recurrent dream, but it stopped. I think it was just some after effects of the curse...”

Junmyeon deflates, and the shadows in Jongdae's eyes grow darker. It kind of takes Chanyeol by surprise, because Jongdae had been pretty positive about his lack of memory until now, and the look of vulnerability in his eyes right now doesn't match the blazing smiles he used to flash Chanyeol. No one is reacting, Chanyeol realises, no one is patting Jongdae on the shoulder and telling him that it's okay, because no one has noticed the slight frown on Jongdae's face or how he's lowering his head. No one, except him, and it makes the hand holding so personal, even secretive although they're not hiding. Chanyeol squeezes Jongdae's hand slightly, and the latter squeezes back. Chanyeol can see the shadow of a smile tugging at Jongdae's lips through the latter's bangs.

Junmyeon sighs, obviously disappointed. He puts one knee on the ground, and his patronus waddles closer. It puts its tiny paws on Junmyeon's knee and raises its head toward its creator.

“You heard everything,” Junmyeon tells the ermine. “You can go tell the Order.”

The patronus turns on its heels and starts galloping, up and up, until it's running through the window, straight into the night. It leaves with the smile that had starting to bloom on Junmyeon's face, and probably with the lingering and sweet taste of happy memories it had given everyone. Chanyeol, though, doesn't feel the difference, his whole body focused on Jongdae's hand in his.

“Okay, I'm done,” Soojung says, putting down her wand. “I've taken care of the cuts and the bleeding. As for the scratches and the bruises...” She trails off and looks at Jongdae, flashing him one of her special winks, one of those that suddenly remind everyone how young she is. “You're a big boy, you'll survive.”

Chanyeol snorts, narrowing his eyes at the scratches on Jongdae's cheek. Soojung glares at him.

“You, on the other hand....”

“Thank you Soojung,” Jongdae chuckles. He glances at Junmyeon. “I'll just go home and sleep for a day or two now,” he jokes. “And I'll be back, ready for a new mission. Is that okay with you?”

Junmyeon nods with a tiny smile. “Take your time.”

“No,” Chanyeol frowns, sending Junmyeon a disapproving and disappointed look. “No, it's not okay. What if they're waiting for him at his place? He needs someone to watch over him. No,” he repeats, determined. He looks at Jongdae. “You're coming with me. I'll take care of you, and I'll be there if someone has the very bad idea to attack you.”

“He fought off six Death Eaters today, Chanyeol,” Jongin teases him. “I'm pretty sure he doesn't -”

“Okay,” Jongdae beams. “Okay.”

Jongin's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and this time, Kyungsoo is the one chuckling at his expression of confusion while Chanyeol helps Jongdae back on his feet. The following second, they're gone with a snap, and Jongin is left frowning in the middle of the room.

“Six Death Eaters,” he muses. “Six!”

Soojung sighs, playfully shoving him.

“You're a fucking lost cause,” she grumbles.

“You know, Soojung's really talented, and she made a great job treating me” Jongdae says with an underlying teasing tone when Chanyeol hands him his third piece of chocolate, but he still diligently takes it. “She left the scratches and bruises because they don't really hurt, so I'm not sure what justifies the fact that I almost ate a whole bar of chocolate.”

Chanyeol finds it hard to glare at Jongdae and hope the latter would finally choke on his questions, like he used too. Things were already slowly turning into something else, but since the kiss earlier, they're now standing million miles away to where they were before, and Chanyeol is in complete darkness. He knows Jongdae is feeling it too, how different things are, because his hand has been resting on the couch next to him, palm facing the ceiling, since Chanyeol sat him there with a thick blanket. He regularly spreads his fingers, when he knows Chanyeol will catch the gesture, but he doesn't say anything about it. Chanyeol keeps avoiding Jongdae's eyes, no matter how clumsy and awkward it makes him look considering that he's sitting on the coffee table just before Jongdae, because he's still not sure how to react. Until then, they've been playing that weird game of push and pull where Jongdae was both the hunter and the prey, and it feels odd to have him reaching out so simply now.

“It's for the emotional scars,” Chanyeol mumbles, his eyes settling everywhere but on Jongdae's face.

“My mental's doing just fine,” Jongdae chuckles. “You do remember I've been trained to fight and arrest dark wizards, right?”

The words spill into Chanyeol's mouth before he can stop them. “You killed the nurse,” he says.

He winces internally when he realises how blunth his voice has sounded, and risks a glance at Jongdae. The latter has lost his grin in favor of a smaller one, a weaker one.

“I did,” Jongdae nods, his face apparently devoid of regrets.

That, right now, is exactly what turns Chanyeol, an almost thirty year old seasoned auror, into a blushing and confused man. It took him so long to understand how Jongdae works, but even now that he thinks he's finally getting it, Jongdae still catches him off guard everytime he opens his mouth. He navigates so easily between feelings and emotions, so intense and just so fast that Chanyeol struggles to follow him. He's made of layers, as hypnotizing as a kaleidoscope, but as prompt to give people nasty headaches.

“Don't you...” Chanyeol hesitates under Jongdae's strong gaze. He remembers his own curse, the pale green light and the anger, bitting and poisonous, taking over his whole body. Now that he's sitting in the calm of his appartment, a healthy Jongdae, aside from a few scratches, right before him, Chanyeol can't really fathom how he got to the point of casting the Avada Kedavra. In all honesty, it kind of scares him and confuses him, but Jongdae has been so... calm about it, and Chanyeol wants to know how.

“I don't know,” he continues. “How did you...?”

Jongdae shrugs. He bites on the corner of the large piece of chocolate Chanyeol gave him, and sighs.

“I heard them in the corridor,” he finally explains. “They weren't exactly being discreet. They killed a mediwizard just down the hallway, and it gave me the time I needed. I hid behind my bed, and I waited. When I saw the nurse, I understood why they were here for-certainly not for cursing me again. And there was six of them, so I just... I just did it.”

Chanyeol frowns, not noticing how he leaned in to eagerly drink each one of Jongdae's words.

“Just like that?” he asks. “You just casted the curse, and it worked?”

Jongdae nods, holding Chanyeol's gaze as the latter eyes him cautiously. He knows Kyungsoo regularly uses the Unforgivable Curses, just like he knows Jongin has always refused to. He wonders what would happen if Jongin tried to cast the Avada Kedavra, if he would be more like him, or more like Jongdae.

“I tried to employ it,” Chanyeol finally blurts out. “But it didn't work. The Death Eater just fell.”

Jongdae wordlessly watches him for a few seconds. Then he breaks his piece of chocolate in two and hands Chanyeol the other half, still silent. Chanyeol bites a huge chank, for emotional scars, and savors the sweet taste as well as the warmth spreading in his body when he swallows.

“Do you think I'm a bad person...?” Jongdae finally asks in a whisper voice.

It's a new layer, Chanyeol realises, a new color in the intricate mix of things that Jongdae is, and just like everything else he is, it hits Chanyeol at full speed, knocking the air out of him. Jongdae's hand has left the couch and is now curling on the white blanket he's maintaining on his shoulders, and his eyes, usually so strong and intense, are now hooded with fragility and fear. He looks so delicate and tiny under that blanket, the bones of his wrists jutting out, and he's never looked any younger than that before. Just a twenty one year old boy, Chanyeol has to remind himself. It's usually so easy to forget, but now...

He reaches out and takes Jongdae's hand in his, untangling his curled fingers to slide his between them, stroking along his palm as he does so.

“You're not,” he assures him with a strong voice. “You're a powerful wizard, and you did what you had to do to survive.” Chanyeol pauses, eyes catching the fluttering of Jongdae's long lashes under his bangs. “I'm glad you did,” he finally whispers. “I'm glad you're okay.”

Jongdae looks up, the intensity back in his eyes.

“I'm glad you found me,” he says. “They heard you, that's what made them run away... Hyung, without you... I was so scared.”

Chanyeol tightens his fingers around Jongdae's wrist. “Don't go back,” he begs him. “Stay there, just... don't go back.”

Jongdae's face breaks into a tiny smile, and it's enough for Chanyeol to understand that it's over, the confessions, the fragility. He can't find it in himself to regret what he said though, although he knows Jongdae would never quit. In a way, they're both similar when it comes to their jobs. They know the risks, but they just gladly take them, and there are times Chanyeol even thinks they're here for the risks. He knows it was a stupid and very selfish request, because the Death Eaters are after all of them and not just Jongdae, but he also knows that Jongdae got the most important. As why Chanyeol asked him that.

Jongdae softly tugs on Chanyeol's hand, pulling him closer until Chanyeol has no other choice than to sit down on the couch next to him. Jongdae immediately curls up against him, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He considers his last piece of chocolate and looks up at Chanyeol. He delicately presses his thumb against the corner of Chanyeol's mouth, forcing him to part his lips, and puts the chocolat between them, smiling when Chanyeol wraps his tongue around it to take it deeper into his mouth.

“For emotional scars,” Jongdae tells him with a fond smile. His thumb lingers on Chanyeol's lower lip, but he finally breaks away, and goes back to curling up against him.

Chanyeol wraps his arms around him as he lies down on the couch, Jongdae against his torse. He watches him fall asleep, how the black of his eyes turns almost greyish as Jongdae's gaze becomes hooded with sleep, and keeps listening to his slow breathing even long after Jongdae has closed his eyes. The bubbly feeling is back in his chest, swelling and warm, but this time, it's acompanied with something not so nice. Chanyeol tries to distract himself from the fear with how pretty and mesmerizing Jongdae is, and how much he wants to kiss every mole on his face. He doesn't sleep well that night.

Chanyeol's eyes follow the ballet of pink memos flying from Jongin's office to Kyungsoo's, finding a little relief in the tiny wings flapping. It's almost hypnotizing, from the little fluttering sounds to the grumbles he can hear in Kyungsoo office everytime a new paper bird flies through his door. When Junmyeon allowed solo's missions again a few weeks ago, Kyungsoo was more than happy to ditch Jongin and his incessant and too cheerful chatting. Jongin had obviously grown quite fond of the grumpy auror though, because he's spent every minute of his free time during those past few weeks bothering Kyungsoo and making sure the latter wouldn't forget about him. It's a miracle honestly, how Kyungsoo hasn't snapped at Jongin yet-because stupefying Jonging and leaving him lying motionless in the office for the night hardly counts as payback when it comes to Kyungsoo. Especially since Jongin resumed with greater intensity once Chanyeol casted the counterspell on him the day after (and he had filled his empty stomach with chinese take-outs).

In all honesty, Chanyeol couldn't care less about Kyungsoo's struggles right now, but the latter's annoyance offers a nice distraction to the mess of dark thoughts thundering in his mind. Since Kyungsoo came to take him to St Mungo two months ago, they're back on being in good terms, whatever it means when it comes to Kyungsoo's ideas of friendship, but Chanyeol couldn't be farther away from friendly advices right now. He checks his watch for the third time in apparently less than two minutes, and his determination to remain calm breaks in two.

He gets up, pushing his chair away so violently it almost falls overs, and walks straight to Junmyeon's office with half a mind to scream his frustration at the latter. He has to dodge a blazing memo gushing out of Kyungsoo's office, straight into Jongin's but the faint smell of burnt hair and Jongin's protests don't slow him down.

He told Junmyeon when the latter gave Jongdae his first solo mission, he told him it was too soon. Jongdae shouldn't even be in Great Britain anymore anyway. Junmyeon proposed him to leave for France and work over there, since Jongdae's name is obviously scribbled on Voldemort's list, but Jongdae turned down the offer with a carefree shrug. In Chanyeol's opinion, Junmyeon didn't insist much when he should have, because Jongdae is young and determined, and he has a really bad tendency to think that his ability to cross the limits and come back safe and sound means that all the limits can-should be crossed. He's worked twice harder since he came back from St Mungo two months ago, and his results have been admirable, so, of course, Junmyeon would want to keep him in his team. But Junmyeon was too prompt to forget that Chanyeol has always been there to make sure Jongdae didn't get himself killed. Well, he was always there, because Junmyeon has given Jongdae his first solo mission, and now Jongdae is ten minutes late.

He walks into the main room, and glances through the window walls of the meeting room to check if Junmyeon is there. He keeps grumbling under his breath about how it was stupid and careless, and if Junmyeon felt like he had to prove something to the Order, he could have gone with anyone else than Jongdae. Irene hasn't been sent on a mission in a week, even though she's one of the best, but Junmyeon had to send Jongdae.

Chanyeol turns back, now aiming for Irene's office, thinking that if she ignores where Junmyeon is, she will at least indulge him and badmouth their boss with him. Knowing Irene, one week in the office drove her crazy, and she'll probably be the most aggressive of the two, forcing Chanyeol to hold her back. He's pretty sure she'll find him a way to make Junmyeon at least confess where he's sent Jongdae though, so that Chanyeol can go and bring Jongdae back.

“Psssssst, hyung! Psssssst pssssssst!”

Chanyeol stops dead in his tracks, eyebrows furrowing, and turns his head right and left, before widening his eyes.

“Jongdae?” he stutters, bewildered.

Jongdae's laughing face flashes him a fake scowl from behing the slightly opened door of the closet, and he presses his index finger on his mouth to shush him.

“Come here,” Jongdae mouths him, and after a wink full of mischief, he steps deeper into the closet.

Confused, Chanyeol checks right and left if someone caught their exchange, but it's been a busy day, and almost everyone is outside. Eyebrows knitted together, he walks to the closet, and pushes the door, still lost and confused. The pale blue light of a Lumos charm spilling out of Jongdae's wand greets him inside, along with Jongdae's dark eyes silently asking him to close the door behind him, which Chanyeol does, puzzled.

“What are you doing here?” he says as aggressively as he can, considering that he's whispering. He has no idea why he's not screaming at Jongdae though, but the closet looks so small and secretive.

“I was so worried,” he goes on, bitting. “Did everything go well? Have you seen Junmyeon yet? What about your debrief? Have you debriefed the mission?”

Jongdae sighs with a knowing smile as he steps closer to Chanyeol, and the sudden proximity, mixed with the shadows erasing the walls and the reminders of an outside world, has Chanyeol stuttering and finally shutting up. Jongdae is looking at him with an all-knowing smirk as he draws closer. He's so small that he has to tilt his head backwards to maintain the eye contact between them, but Chanyeol is the one who feels tiny and even shrinking when their chests press together. Jongdae takes one of his hand and puts it on his hipbone before wrapping his arms around Chanyeol's waist.

“I wanted to tell you first,” he finally says.

His eyes are shining brigther than the magic light coming from his wand, and the shadows are back on his face, this time more delicate and light on Jongdae's skin. They seem to be pourring from his lashes everytime Jongdae blinks, and they gather at the feline corner of his lips when he smiles. Chanyeol unconsciously spreads his fingers on the younger's hipbone. His index finger catches on the hem of Jongdae's shirt, and his breath gets stuck in the back of his throat.

“Tell me what?” Chanyeol asks when he finally registers Jongdae's words.

Jongdae beams at him, his eyes reducing to slits and drowning in the shadows spreading on his temples. His eyebrows curve the way only Jongdae's eyebrows can, reminding Chanyeol how distracting they can be. At least, back when Jongdae's hair was curly, some of his tight curls used to fall over his forehead and hide them, but now, Jongdae's hair is short and often styled up. And his eyebrows keep doing things. Chanyeol can't believe his heart is beating faster just at the sight of them.

“That I'm awesome,” Jongdae grins. “I'm amazing.”

Chanyeol frowns, confused.

“You're awesome?” he repeats, puzzled.

Jongdae furiously nods, fingers tightening around Chanyeol's biceps.

“Hell yeah I am,” he chuckles. “That mission was a piece of cake, and I've done one hell of a job. Junmyeon probably already knows how awesome I am since he gave me that mission, but I'll still tell him again, just to make sure. You, though... I think you need a reminder.”

Chanyeol watches Jongdae, how his eyes shine at every word he lets out, so fast that he almost forgets to breathe, and only realises then that Jongdae is high on adrenaline. He should be relieved because Jongdae's first solo mission obviously went well, but it's another feeling that floods him and tugs at his heart. The way Jongdae stays in motion, be it with the slight strokes of his fingers on Chanyeol's arm, or the way he swings on his feet to be able to look straight into Chanyeol's eyes is so entertaining. He's honestly so beautiful, from the smile his lips keep flashing him, to the wrinkles maping the corners of his eyes. They haven't been in the closet since that time, and it's all so different. Jongdae's voice easily fills the closet-his intonations, words and syllables so huge they take all the air away from Chanyeol; and he's making the walls useless because the world has been shrinking to fit only in the curves of his body.

“So I'm reminding you that I'm awesome,” Jongdae continues, face scrunched up with mischief, and Chanyeol's heart swells. “Tonight, I'm going to come at your place with a bottle of firewhisky, and you're going to let me kiss you. And you'll kiss me too because I'm too amazing to be kissed only twice. Especially if one time was to save your life, and the second time because you got scared for mine, like, come on hyung.”

Chanyeol is horrified to feel the embarrassing bite of warmth spreading on his cheeks, and even more horrified to see that Jongdae hasn't missed it, if his huge grin is any indication.

“Jongdae,” he mumbles, flustered. “You're still under the rush of adrenaline.”

“No. Yes. Probably. I don't know. It's not important, hyung!” Jongdae whines.

“What is, then?” Chanyeol grumbles, trying as hard as he can to look annoyed at Jongdae, like he's been since the very first day they met, when in truth he hasn't stopped thinking about Jongdae's lips for the past few weeks.

“I told you,” Jongdae sighs. “I'm awesome, that's what's important. I'll do one hell of job for every mission Junmyeon will give me, and I'll never let anyone curse me again. I'm going to survive this war, and I'm going to do it with you, because I'm awesome enough not to care about your age, or the fact that you have a stick up your ass-”

“Jongdae,” Chanyeol groans.

“Honestly hyung, you really do have a stick up your ass.”

“Jongdae!”

Jongdae chuckles, the sound a strange mix of coarse snorts and aery muffled peals of laughter. It fills the closet, and rings through Chanyeol's ears, waking up the bubbles in his stomach. He closes his eyes with a faint sigh, but there's no escaping Jongdae, because the latter is painted all over his eyelids, in a kaleidoscope of pale colors left there by the faint blue light. The only way to get ride of Jongdae would be to step back and leave the closet, but Chanyeol can't bring himself to do it. He can feel the warm skin of Jongdae's stomach under his fingertips, smell the hint of vanilla radiating from Jongdae's hair, and the best is knowing that when he'll open his eyes, Jongdae will be looking at him, and him only, with those perfectly round and so dark pupils.

So Chanyeol does, he opens his eyes, and Jondgae is watching him with a little smile, beautiful in all the right and wrong ways, and the bubbles in Chanyeol's chest swell, shiny and as large as his heart now.

“Jongdae,” he says again in a whisper. His hand instinctively slides deeper under Jongdae's shirt until his palm is pressed against the latter's lower stomach. Chanyeol feels Jongdae's muscles tightening ever so slightly while he clenches his fingers tighter around Chanyeol's arms.

“But the most important,” Jongdae continues, his voice softer, lower, “is that if you think the adrenaline is speaking, I'm willing to say it all again and again until you're left with zero excuses.”

Chanyeol smiles. “Because you're awesome?”

Jongdae shrugs, faking modesty. The shadows follow the slight tilt of his head and run all over his face to finally escape along his neckline.

“Something like that,” he teases.

Chanyeol sighs, his smile clashing with how annoyed he's trying to look, but he leans down just the same to press his forehead against Jongdae's. The latter gets up on his tip toes, too impatient to let Chanyeol come to him, and breathes out longly and deeply when their forehead finally press together. He brings a hand up to cup Chanyeol's face while the other slides along his nape and curls there, warm and overwhelming. Chanyeol fears he'll break him in two with how small Jondgae's waist is, and how tight he's holding it, but Jongdae still breathes long and slow as if he hadn't breathed for too long as he presses himself even tighter against Chanyeol. He's already standing on his tiptoes, but he keeps stretching himself up, so much that he loses his balance and uses Chanyeol's body for support. The latter grabs Jongdae's thigh to hold him in place, lowering a little more so that Jongdae's feet can go back on the ground. Jongdae mistakes his gesture for the start of a kiss, and he leans in, slightly pursing his lips.

Chanyeol freezes, and Jongdae closes his eyes and pinches his lips together to try and refrain his laughter. Chanyeol chuckles, closes the distance, and kisses Jongdae until the latter's smile has bloomed under his lips.

“You're pretty awesome too,” Jongdae tells him, beaming, as soon as Chanyeol breaks away.

“Even if I have a stick up my ass?”

“Well,” Jongdae shrugs. “You have a pretty great ass, so -”

Chanyeol shuts him up with another kiss, his cheeks warming under the deep blush he feels spreading on his face again, and Jongdae's low chuckles vibrate against his lips. Soon enough though, the noises Jongdae makes become more breathy, and the warmth sticking to Chanyeol's skin doesn't come from Jondgae's teasings anymore, but from the latter's eagerness and impatience. There's something exhilarating stealing Jongdae's words and kissing the air out of him, but even wrapped around Chanyeol and tiptoeing to reach the latter's lips, Jongdae remains Jongdae. He's always had this ability to burst other's people bubbles and bend the limits of their lives to make himself a little room, and he's been taking more and more space into Chanyeol's bubble, so much that Chanyeol can't remember a time when his existence, the space around him, wasn't made of Jongdae.

And, well, it is pretty awesome.

Jongdae's skin appears darker than what it really is under London's artificial lights. The tan he got from the really hot summer is barely starting to fade away, sunburn-induced freckles still popping out on the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones when he stays under the stun for too long, but the skin of his thighs is still pale, milky. In the darkness of their bedroom, they usually stand out, translucent and delicate, but tonight, they look golden and grainy, and Chanyeol can't stop goggling at them. If tonight was like any other night, Chanyeol would already be running his hand down one of them to finally slip his fingers under Jongdae's shorts, but tonight is different. The atmosphere is quieter, solemner. When Chanyeol looks up, he meets Jongdae's eyes heavy on him, both serious and amused at the same time.

“Hyung,” Jongdae scowls him. He scoots closer though, shifting his legs carelessly thrown over Chanyeol's lap when they sat down on the balcony half an hour ago, so his shorts would go up, revealing more of his thighs.

Chanyeol groans. Jongdae has finally ended up calling him Chanyeol or Yeol, but the hyung pops out from time to time, with a whole new palette of intonations, from the teasing tone to the darker innuendo, heavy with lust and irresistible attraction. Tonight being a different night though, Jondgae's hyung comes hushed, almost out of breath, and Chanyeol shifts closer. He rests a palm on Jongdae's thigh, taking the glass of Ogden's Old Firewhisky Jongdae hands him with the other, and keeps his eyes glued to Jondgae's as they clink glasses.

None of them drink the amber coloured drink though, because the night sky suddenly errupts into a shower of shooting stars far above the roofs of London's house. Flashes of golden lights bloom on their pupils as they watch the magic stars fall down and fade into darkness.

“Dedalus Diggle?” Jongdae says, and Chanyeol snorts.

“Probably,” he sighs. “He did it down in Kent as well earlier, I heard they sent an Obliviator, but Diggle probably didn't get more than a warning. Nobody will get into trouble for celebrating today.”

Jongdae nods, lost in his thoughts. He watches the remaining stars whirling around before bursting out into tiny sparkles with his hand clenched around his glass. Any other night would have had Chanyeol slowly leaning in to kiss Jongdae's thinking look away and running his fingers on his face to erase the wrinkles maping it, but tonight... well, tonight is definitely different.

Jongdae turns around, feeling Chanyeol's eyes on him. He flashes him a faint smile and raises his glass.

“To Harry Potter,” he says. “The boy who lived.”

Chanyeol nods, clinks their glasses for the second time.

“To Harry Potter.”

The alchohol, even stronger than a plain glass of Firewhisky, floods Chanyeol's mouth and licks his tongue in burning and heavy waves. He gulps it all down, his eyes wetting under his closed eyelids and makes a face when he swallows the last sip, the fire in his mouth scorching the back of his throat and his trachea. When he opens his eyes, Jongdae is putting away his own glass, as empty as Chanyeol, his eyebrows knitted together as he refrain a shriek of disgust. Chanyeol chuckles softly, and Jongdae looks up.

Last time they drank something that strong and intoxicating, they were sharing the bottle with members of the Order. With James and Lily Potter.

Something darker than the natural color of Jongdae's pupils fall on his eyes for a short minute. He leans in, his hand already cupping Chanyeol's face, and presses their lips, the tip of his tongue lingering on Chanyeol's upper lip. Chanyeol puts down his glass and brings Jongdae closer, his hand now under Jongdae's shorts, and the other curling on his nape.

Jongdae leaves a trail of butterfly kisses down Chanyeol's neck, then finally resting his head on the older male's collarbone with a deep sigh.

“Do you think he's really dead?” he asks, soflty.

Chanyeol hugs him closer.

“No.”

Jongdae lets out a faint chuckle. “It's okay. We'll be there to kick his ass when he'll come back.”

Chanyeol smiles softly as he runs his fingers through Jongdae's hair, his nails slightly scraping Jongdae's scalp. He's hit by a wave of vanilla shampoo, and can't resist the sudden need to lean down and bury his nose in Jongdae's black hair. Jongdae leans into the touch with a pleased sigh, and they huddle together to fight off the fresh air of the Halloween night.

Chanyeol presses his lips against the end of Jongdae's right eyebrow.

“We will,” he promises. He feels Jongdae's eyebrow move under his lips as the latter smiles. “We will,” he repeats as he takes Jongdae by the chin and pulls him closer to kiss him.

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