I don't go looking for trouble (it usually finds me) ; sechen ; special harry potter verse
Title: I don't go looking for trouble (it usually finds me)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jongdae/Sehun, mentioned Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Wordcount: 5,090
Warning: Mentions of death
Disclaimer: EXO belongs to themselves and SME
Notes: Written for an going au in collaboration with aprilclash.I highly recommend you to read the first part that you can find here.
You'll find the French translations at the end of the fic.
Summary: Having to find the Horcruxes is already hard enough but add the grumpy French kid, the constant worry for his friends and family, and the threat of being killed at every moment and, bam, you're the boy who lived.
“I still don't understand why we took Baekhyun to Park Chanyeol's mansion.”
Jongdae rolls his eyes. God help him, if Sehun doesn't shut up, he'll make him shut up himself. His fingers tighten on his wand, but he doesn't slow down, nor does he look over his shoulder. Maybe he'll be lucky for once in his life, and Sehun will soon lose his breath because of their sustained pace, finally letting Jongdae drown in his thoughts with the peacefulness of the woods as his only background. It's just wishful thinking though, because Sehun, albeit two years younger than him, turned out to be the Ministry of Magic's secret weapon, an annoying prodigy that could defeat Alastor Moody Mad-Eye at barely fourteen. So obviously, Jongdae will be the first one of the two begging for a stop and struggling to catch his breath.
“Because,” Jongdae answers between gritted teeth. “Chanyeol is our friend.”
“Sure,” Sehun retorts. “Park Chanyeol, prince of the Slytherin house. Your friend. Tout à fait.”
Jongdae internally moans. One more French word, and he'll explode. The Dark Lord won't even have to kill him, Sehun and his random bursts of French are more than enough. Jongdae mentally curses Baekhyun, his best friend, and his reckless demeanor that made him way too excited about a potential trail for an Horcruxe, and eventually led him to get hurt. Hence Baekhyun's absence right now, and Sehun never-ending speech about how Chanyeol isn't to be trusted.
“Baekhyun trusts him,” Jongdae adds, hoping that it will be enough for Sehun this time.
He stops dead in his tracks, and with that delicate grace of his, Sehun stops just before his body crashes against Jongdae's back. Jongdae raises his wand, brows knitted together and blood pulsing in his ears. He knows Sehun is listening too, eye-scanning the woods with a spell waiting to be thrown on the tip of his tongue, and probably a hand hovering over the small of Jongdae's back to push him away if needed. Jongdae isn't even sure he heard something, but fear still came back in the blink of an eye, crawling in his insides and chewing his heart. He's not afraid of fighting, because he already fought too much, but he doesn't like waiting and wondering what face the threat will have this time, and if it's finally the time he'll fail and end up being killed. He thinks about Baekhyun, hopefully safe in Chanyeol's castle, about Jongin, their godfather Zitao, Hogwarts, until he can't bear thinking about everything he could lose anymore. He glances at Sehun, still tense next to him, and briefly wonders if Oh Sehun, well trained by the Ministry and sent during Jongdae's last year at Hogwarts under a stupid secret identity to protect him, is afraid too. If he is, he doesn't show it. His eyes are flying over the snow-covered landscape, going back and forth between rocks and stumps, while his whole body looks like it was frozen in the midst of throwing a spell. Jongdae knows that Sehun wouldn't hesitate to finish the slight flick of his wrist if he only thought there is a threat. His quick reactions have saved the three of them more than once.
“There's nothing,” Sehun states as he slightly deflates, the tension leaving his body. His eyes come back to Jongdae. “Maybe you should put on the invisibility cloak, just in case.”
“What about you?” Jongdae frowns.
Sehun shrugs. “You know we can't wear it both. I'm too tall, our feet show.”
“If you're not wearing it, neither am I.”
Sehun sighs, rolling his eyes so hard in their sockets that they only flash white at Jongdae for a short second. Jongdae doesn't like when Sehun acts like he's inexperienced and useless, because he's not. He's gone through a lot of things, most of them with Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and Sehun isn't the only one who knows how to throw a spell, after all.
“Let's keep going,” he mumbles, and he resumes walking before Sehun can say anything more.
They walk in silence for a few minutes, Sehun only a couple of steps behind Jongdae. It's not snowing anymore, but it's still freezing, and from what Jongdae can see between the bare branches, the sun is going down. They should stop and pitch the tent because they have to see clearly for the several defensive spells, but none of them says it out loud. Jongdae is worried about Baekhyun, and when he blinks, he can't help but think about the blood embed in the lines of his palms when he helped his best friend on his feet. Walking helps, because he has to think about intakes of air and pay attention to the ground, and it saves him from the too-familiar knot in his stomach with the names of the people he loves written on it.
“Do you, though?” Sehun suddenly asks. “Trust Park Chanyeol, I mean.”
Jongdae smiles as he thinks about their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express. Chanyeol was already taller than everyone, and he had years of practised douchery behind him. He was patronizing and cold when he held his hand for Jongdae to shake, and his ”You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Kim. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” still brighten Jongdae's moody days. But then Baekhyun came in, and Chanyeol turned into a mess of spluttering syllables. (Which Jongdae still likes to use to turn Chanyeol's bright days into moody ones.) Chanyeol looks like a rich asshole, he acts like a rich asshole -except with Baekhyun-, but Jongdae has grown to like him over the years at Hogwarts. With Baekhyun dragging the Slytherin into the Gryffindor common room for almost every break, Jongdae didn't really have a choice anyway. But no matter the differences or Chanyeol's old habit of being rude with Jongdae, the three of them have gone through a lot, and yes, yes Jongdae would trust Chanyeol with his life.
“I do,” he assures Sehun with a smile. He misses Hogwarts and the old days, the pranks and the insouciance. It's all far gone.
Sehun mumbles what sounds like angry French words, but Jongdae doesn't pay attention. When Sehun arrived at Hogwarts, he was the shy Beauxbâtons kid who looked annoyingly infatuated with Jongdae since he followed the latter everywhere, but little did Jongdae know. Sehun is still annoying, of course, but he also turned out to be a metamorphmagus and an auror. Kind of.
“Ca reste un Serpentard. Il pourrait être en train de prendre le thé avec le Seigneur des Tenèbres en ce moment même,” Sehun mumbles.
“Okay that's it!” Jongdae stops and turns toward Sehun. “Let's pitch the tent here. And if I hear another French word, I swear to god I'll sectusempra your nose off.”
“I'd grow a new one,” Sehun retorts.
“Yeah, but that would still hurt like a bitch.”
Sehun glares at him but doesn't protest. He throws the backpack at Jongdae's feet and walks away, already throwing protego totalums in low whispers. Jongdae takes care of the tent, but it's a quick work. When he's done, Sehun is still raising new defenses all around their camp so Jongdae decides to try and cook some ramen inside the tent.
He'll never not marvel at magic's wonders. Even though he's entered the tent a billion of times already, he always takes a few seconds to admire the whole place, the space between the basic furniture, the beds and the tiny kitchen. Hunting Horcruxes with the threat that the Dark Lord could be around the corner to kill him isn't really the kind of adventure he's always dreamed of, but Jongdae's learned to appreciate the warmth and the comfort because, really, what can he do anyway?
He points his wand at the used backpack on the ground and accio what he needs out of it. Sehun's faint mumbles can still be heard through the magic walls of the tent -he doesn't have to voice the spells but he does since Jongdae asked him to- and Jongdae cooks as quietly as he can, always paying attention to Sehun's low voice, making sure it's still there, still low, still calm. Just in case. His life has turned into a messed up series of just in cases.
It's too cold outside, so they both stay inside the tent once their stomachs are full of curry ramen. Sehun claims that his spells are undetectable and that they're safe, and Jongdae trusts him. The younger wizard is usually full of precautions, all prudence and preventive measures, so if he states that they don't have to stand guard under the fat snowflakes, Jongdae isn't going to discuss. They're both sitting crossed legs on the ground, the old radio between the two of them, and a jar vomiting a fire so blue it's blinding at their feet. Jongdae listens to the interferences, fighting his brain that makes him hear the worst words he could. There's nothing, he has to remind himself every two seconds. Just interferences. The broadcast hasn't even started. There's nothing. It's the hardest moment of the day, even harder than wandering through Korea's landscapes while wondering about the Horcruxes and about the enormity of their quest, because it's the moment when Jongdae suddenly remembers everyone he cares for. Tonight, he feels empty and tired, his feet hurt, it feels like hope died from the cold oustide the tent, and the fear of bad news makes it all even more unbearable.
“I need to see Jongin,” he whispers as the second hour of waiting starts. It's obvious that there won't be any broadcast tonight, but it's been two days, and Jongdae is sick of imaginning serpent whistles amongst the interferences.
Sehun raises an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't say a word.
“We don't even know where to go next. Baekhyun has been badly hurt, and I just...” He pauses and turns off the radio with an angry gesture of the hand. “I need to see my brother, Sehun.”
Sehun seems to consider for a second, and it's enough time for Jongdae to fear Sehun might say no. He's actually more afraid of the reasons Sehun could list, and how reasonable they would sound, how they would end up convince him. He knows it's not the safest thing to do, he knows Death Eaters are looking for Jongin too, and that they could have found him. Jongdae would be rushing into a trap to save his little brother, and everything could end up just like this. Sehun is thinking about the possibilites, Jongdae knows it, and he also knows he should think about them too, but all he thinks about is Baekhyun's blood on his hands and the interferences.
“Okay,” Sehun says. It's simple and short, slightly accentuated by years of speaking French, but it's more than enough for Jongdae to release the breath he was holding in.
Sehun rummages through his pocket and pulls a Galleon out of it. He holds it between his finger and his thumb, and puts the tip of his wand against the edge of the coin while he mouths the Protean charm incantation. It's a N.E.W.T level spell, and despite being around the age to only sit through his O.W.Ls, Sehun masters it without flinching. It's a clever method that Baekhyun came up with a couple of weeks after they left Hogwarts, and that allows them to communicate more easily. There are only five other Galleons similar to the one Sehun's holding, and they're all perfectly identical to basic Galleons if not for the serial number on their edges. It changes according to the message, the things they want to say, but it's mostly just coordinates to know where each one of them is. Sehun is currently sending a 111 111 0114, and Jongdae feels the change on his own Galleon sitting deep in his pocket because of the short warmth against his thigh. The message is clearly meant for Jongin, and every owner of one of those Galleons knows what it means.
Where are you?
“Now, we wait,” Sehun says. He blows on his Galleon and puts it back into his pocket.
Jongdae nods as he brings his knees up to his chest and locks his arms around. Instead of thinking about the lack of answer, he thinks about Zitao, who has the sixth Galleon (the five others belonging to Sehun, Jongdae, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongin), and about the Order of the Phoenix. Jongdae misses their house and the pictures on the walls, the way Zitao talks about Minseok and Luhan as if they were still alive, as if they've just pranked Yifan together. The house has become the Order's general headquarters now. Jongdae wouldn't be able to come home even if he wanted. He thought about it, working with the Order, staying safe with his godfather and Jongin, but it doesn't work like that. After years of fighting against that stupid prophecy, fighting against the game of push and pull that has been connecting him and the Dark Lord for so long, Jongdae is finally starting to understand. Nothing will ever be the same.
The warmth against his thigh pulls him out of his reverie, and his heart pumps erratically in his chest. The heaviness weighing on his eyelids the second before is long gone when he pulls the Galleon out of his pocket. He reads the coordinates and shows them to Sehun, who nods.
“Let's pack up,” Sehun says. “And then we'll go.”
They apparate in the middle of a dusty living room. The parquet floor creaks under their feet, and Sehun's hand stays firmly wrapped around Jongdae's biceps. It takes less than a second to take in the new surroundings when you apparate somewhere, but Jongdae has learned how scary those few moments can be. He's tense, his shoulder pressed against Sehun's, but nothing happens, no spells are thrown, no evil laugh echoes through the empty room. Jongdae looks up at Sehun whose eyebrows are furrowed, and notices the new shade of golden brown in the younger wizard's hair. Sehun gave up on his rainbow hair when they left Hogwarts, but he probably misses playing with the possibilities, because he still changes quite often. It's just less noticeable now. Golden brown kind of suits him. Is it shorter on the side?
“Hyung!”
Jongdae lets go of Sehun's arm with a start, and before he can say anything, a body crashes against his, knocking the air out of him. When he breathes in, eyes closed because of the ticklish sensation of soft locks grazing his cheekbones, he tastes the faint taste of chemical vanilla on the tip of his tongue, and it's more than enough to make him laugh.
Jongdae pulls out of his brother's embrace, and his eyes meet the familiar laughing crescent moons.
“Jonginnie,” he breathes out, reassured.
Jongin nods vigorously, and Jongdae takes in the change. Jongin got taller since the last time he's seen him -will his growth spurt ever stop?!- and his hair also got longer, which will probably make Zitao cringe when he'll see Jongin, but all in all, his little brother looks fine. Thinner, and also tired judging by the dark rings under his eyes, but fine. No blood, no wounds, no faded eyes taken over by the Imperio, no death threats weighing down on his features. Jongdae lets out another sigh. Sehun mumbles something in his back, in French of course, but Jongdae ignores it. He can't take his eyes away from his brother's face, from the smiling pulling up at his lips and the light in his chocolate eyes.
“So, what happened?” Jongdae says. There it is. The first shadow on Jongin's face. Jongdae has to ask, though. “I turned on the radio every night but there was nothing.”
Jongin slowly nods before glancing over his shoulder. Jongdae only notices then the few familiar faces waiting in the entrance of the living room. He knows most of them, because they were in Hogwarts with him. Muggle born children, half-blood, or pure blood wizards who just happen to believe in things the Dark Lord can't accept. They're all under seventeen, and they're all scared, but they still chose not to go back to Hogwarts, and Jongdae couldn't be happier. The fear has dug deep creases on their faces, but at least they're alive. Jongdae has heard too many stories about accidents in Hogwarts that ended up with a hurt wizard, or worse. Hogwarts isn't a safe place anymore, not for them.
“Hi, oppa.”
Jongdae smiles at the waving girl. Her dark hair is all tangled and she has a huge bruise on her cheek, but she still beams at him the same way she always did.
“Hey Wendy. What's up?”
“Oh, nothing much. We're still wizard's world's greatest plague,” she jokes.
“Yeah, living the dream, I see.”
She smiles, but it's a second too short, and Jongdae remembers why he's here. Jongin's fingers are still between his, and Jongdae presses them softly as he turns to look at his brother. That dark look doesn't suit him, and it breaks Jongdae's heart a little more because he knows something bad happened, something that was probably because of him, in one way or another. He's the one who grew up with the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead, and he wishes it could have stayed that way, but running around and leaving scars turned out to be something he's as good at as the Dark Lord himself.
“We got caught at the end of our last broadcast. We're still not sure how they did it, but they found us. Most of us managed to escape, but...”
Jongdae frowns at his brother and turns toward the rest of the Thunderstruck team. He mentally counts them, names the faces, the pressure in his heart going stronger and stronger with every sad eyes he meets.
“They got Taemin,” Jongin finally says.
Sehun gasps in his back. Jongdae doesn't want to look over his shoulder, doesn't want to see the look on Sehun's face. The metamorphmagus didn't have many friends when he got transferred to Hogwarts, but Lee Taemin was one of the few he had. Jongdae feels his throat constrict around the idea of Taemin bleeding somewhere in the country, between the hands of merciless monsters.
“Is he dead?” Sehun asks, the French accent heavier than ever in his voice. He usually talks in perfect Korean, intonations and wording on point, but there are times like this when it comes back, like a glimpse of who he was before. He still talks with detachment and indifference laced all over his voice though, but it's not enough.
Jongin nods. It's a short gesture, but it cuts the air all around them in the most violent way. Jongdae has trouble breathing.
“Avada kedavra,” Jongin explains. “He didn't even see it coming.”
Green light. Green light showering him, and that dark cold laugh. Barely a chuckle, so far from the insane laughs Jongdae has seen and heard in movies. Just a cold chuckle, like the start of an emotion that got killed before it could bloom into a full laugh. Taemin isn't the first one to die in this war, but it doesn't make his death easier to swallow. Jongdae met his mom once, on the platform. She was giving Taemin enough candies to feed the whole train.
Jongdae rubs his scar with the palm of his hand. The pain is always there, it's been there since he came back, but during times like these, it feels heavier than usual. Heavy, like guilt would be.
“Where's Baekhyun hyung?” Jongin asks.
“Got hurt,” Sehun answers before Jongdae does. “But Park Chanyeol is taking good care of him, or so I heard.”
Jongdae sighs.
“Chanyeol is a nice hyung,” Jongin approves, oblivious to the disdain in Sehun's voice. “Baekhyun will be back before you know it.”
“Conneries,” Sehun mutters.
Jongdae turns towards him, ready to snap at his so-called protector, but there's something in Sehun's face that kills the words in his throat. Sehun stares at him with a look of pure defiance, angry twitch of his lips and his shoulders burdened by the tension, but all Jongdae can see, really, is the wetness of his eyes. He bites his lips and looks back at Jongin.
Just when he's about to ask about the Order of the Phoenix, there's a loud snap that echoes through the living room, like a whip lash. Jongdae doesn't even have the time to register the silhouette now standing a few steps away from him that Sehun's fingers are already around his wrist. He hears a sharp and cold baguette that he's heard enough times to automatically translate it as wand, and he raises his right hand.
There's barely a second before someone takes in their new surroundings when they apparate somewhere, and so many things can happen in one second. There's a laugh, cold and mocking, strangely carnivorous on the edges, and there's a loud bump. It doesn't even take a second, but it's enough for Jongdae to look down at the body now bleeding all over the parquet floors, to notice the flesh missing on her face and arm, and to think she got splinched, she struggled before the first spell is thrown. It's Sehun's.
“We're out!” Sehun screams just when time gets back to its normal speed.
Death eaters apparate one after the other, and the whole living room turns into a mess of screams, dust and colourful lightnings.
“Wait, no!” Jongdae says. He takes a step forward, eyes searching for Jongin's silhouette in the middle of the black robes and toxic smoke. He raises his wand. “Reducto!”
“Jongdae!”
Someone grabs him by the wrist, and before Jongdae can do anything, he feels the familiar pull in his belly. It swallows him whole, until the colors around him are not colors anymore, but powerful winds, it drowns the screams and the casted spells, until Jongdae finally lands on solid ground and collapses.
“Are you hurt?”
Sehun kneels down, and when Jongdae looks up, he meets a face he knows by heart but isn't used to see like that. Sehun looks exactly like him, from the straight eyebrows to the thin lips. Even the scar stands out, red and oddly swollen, between two -too long- strands of hair. The expression looks funny though, twisting the features in the most unsuspected ways, the whole thing turning even more bizarre when Sehun licks his under lip, a nervous habit of his. It could be funny, but it's not, and Jongdae pushes away Sehun's hand, furious.
“I told you to stop doing that!” he snaps as he gets back on his feet. “You're gonna get yourself killed!”
Sehun shrugs. His hair looks like someone splashed it with golden paint, and the colour is slowly spreading all over the strands of hair, chopping off most of them at the same time.
“Better me than you.”
Jongdae glares at him with clenched fists.
“And stop calling me Jongdae, for fuck's sake! I'm your hyung!”
He kicks a rock with a frustrated scream, and watches it rebounce against a tree. They're back in a forest, awesome. He doesn't even know where they are exactly, but it's probably miles away from where Jongin is. Did they manage to get out in time? He tries to replay what happened in the old shack, but the few details he manage to grab don't feel trustworthy enough, and Jongdae doesn't want to draw hasty conclusions. Especially when one of them would mean Jongin's death. The only thing he's sure of is the identity of the body, that girl who fought with her life to stop the Death Eater from using her as a way to get to her friends. It was Kim Yerim, 16 years old. Pure blood.
“I'm sorry hyung,” Sehun finally says. He's halfway back to being Sehun now, slender body and voice dropping to a lower key. “We can't go back.”
Jongdae slowly nods, refusing to meet Sehun's eyes nonetheless. He wipes his cheek with his sleeve and sniffs.
“I know,” he whispers.
His voice sounds strange, strained. Scared.
“I know.”
They wait two days next to the radio. It's snowing outside, again, but the interferences beat the peaceful whisper swirling around the trees. Jongdae can't remember the last time he actually enjoyed it, that whistling silence that comes with the snow, because it now joins the quiet chuckle in his nightmares. Green light, quiet chuckle, northern soft winds. Jongin was in his last dream, taller and with longer hair that would make Zitao cringe, and he was holding an old-fashioned pocket mirror. His eyes were still as chocolate as ever, and they turned into laughing crescent moons when he glanced at the mirror, and to Jongdae's surprise, dark eyes stared back at Jongin. They turned cold, though, and red, red like the blood dripping from Yerim's half ripped off face, like the blood staining Baekhyun's shirt. Jongdae woke up with a scream, cold fever running down his spine, and the intense urge to rush to Jongin pulsating through his whole body.
They can't use the Galleons, because they don't know what happened in the shack. The Death Eaters could be in possession of Jongin's Galleon right now, and sending a message through it could make them realise it's more than just a simple coin. They sent the emergency code as soon as they arrived in the forest two days earlier to make sure no one will use them before it's safe, and it was it. Nothing else happened. And Jongdae waits. He thinks about Baekhyun, who probably joined another group of rebels now, Baekhyun waiting for their coordinates to pop up on his Galleon, but mostly, he thinks about Jongin. Not knowing kills him slowly. Usually, he doesn't waste his time with notions of fatality, but with nowhere to run, he can't help but list everything that has ever happened to him because of what a lunatic Divination professor said years ago. It doesn't help, because the more he adds to the list -parents, putting Jongin in danger, having to be the one who has to kill the most powerful dark wizard of all times, Taemin, Yerim, Baekhyun's blood, so much blood..- the more it weighs down on him, until he feels like his bones are breaking, one after another. He can't even cry, because he's too scared, too scared that he might have finally caused his little brother's death. If it's true, if Jongin is dead because of him, Jongdae doesn't know how he'll make it, how he'll be able to keep fighting. Screw the prophecy, why can't someone else take care of that evil bitch anyway. He's just Jongdae. Just Jongdae.
Sehun remains silent during those two days, and he also barely moves. He puts a bowl of ramen in front of Jongdae at regular hours of the days, and plops down next to him right after. Something finally happens on the third day. Sehun breaks his routine around eight am when the interferences change, ever so slightly. It's barely a whisper, actually more of a whistle, but they both know what it means. Sehun holds out his wand and taps the radio with the tip, answering to the low and discreet sound. Jongdae watches with wide eyes, because he doesn't want to hope. He doesn't want, but every cells of his being is now vibrating with hope.
“Zhang Yixing,” Sehun whispers to the emptiness, and the password unlocks the radio show. They always use names of the Order's members, but Jongdae can't really think of a better name for today's broadcast. Zhang Yixing, werewolf and Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, sometimes truly personifies hope itself.
“Dear listeners, Kai talking. Welcome to another broadcast of Thunderstruck. We are sorry for our absence. There was a storm, but we saw the lightning, and Thunderstruck is ready to get back to work. Now, we keep hearing truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbours, often without the Muggles’ knowledge. I’d like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken.” A pause. “But before, the names of the missing and dead wizards and witches. Ahn Jaehyo, missing.”
Jongdae doesn't hear the following names, too busy crying in his hands, the oh-so-familiar voice feeling like honey on his scar. After hours of pourring salt on it, he can only collapses because of the relief. Sehun hugs him throughout the whole broadcast.
Jongin quietly closes the bathroom's door behind him. He can still hear some of his friends snoring on the bedroom, only a couple of feet away. They deserve to sleep well, especially after everything that happened the last few days, but Jongin knows that most of them will wake up even more tired than before. That's the thing about nightmares, they make sleeping even harder than fighting off the memories when you're awake.
He locks the door and sits on the floor. The cold is biting, but Jongin doesn't let it bother him. He only has a couple of hours before his friends start to wake up, and he fully needs them. At least, he doesn't have to worry about Jongdae anymore, not as much anyway, because he felt the Galleon's warmth spreading in his pocket right after the broadcast earlier. The coordinates were for Baekhyun, of course, but Jongdae feels more alive when Jongin knows where he is.
He pulls a vintage pocket miror out of the inside of his hoodie, careful fingers manipulating it as if it was the most precious thing ever -because it kind of is- and he slowly brings it up to his face. The only thing he sees is his own reflection. He looks tired, and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot stop furrowing his eyebrows, but the creases on his face and the fear in his eyes quickly fade from his mind as his reflection turns into something else. Something better.
Jongin smiles at the soft cheeks and the thick eyebrows, and the plush lips flash a smile back at him.
“Hi, Kyungsoo,” he whispers.
“Hi Jongin.”
French translations :
tout à fait ; sure. In a ironic way.
“Ca reste un Serpentard. Il pourrait être en train de prendre le thé avec le Seigneur des Tenèbres en ce moment même,” : "He's still a Slytherin. He could be sharing a cup of tea with the Dark Lord right now for all we know."
baguette : wand
There should be more to come! Please be patient uwu
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jongdae/Sehun, mentioned Baekhyun/Chanyeol
Wordcount: 5,090
Warning: Mentions of death
Disclaimer: EXO belongs to themselves and SME
Notes: Written for an going au in collaboration with aprilclash.I highly recommend you to read the first part that you can find here.
You'll find the French translations at the end of the fic.
Summary: Having to find the Horcruxes is already hard enough but add the grumpy French kid, the constant worry for his friends and family, and the threat of being killed at every moment and, bam, you're the boy who lived.
“I still don't understand why we took Baekhyun to Park Chanyeol's mansion.”
Jongdae rolls his eyes. God help him, if Sehun doesn't shut up, he'll make him shut up himself. His fingers tighten on his wand, but he doesn't slow down, nor does he look over his shoulder. Maybe he'll be lucky for once in his life, and Sehun will soon lose his breath because of their sustained pace, finally letting Jongdae drown in his thoughts with the peacefulness of the woods as his only background. It's just wishful thinking though, because Sehun, albeit two years younger than him, turned out to be the Ministry of Magic's secret weapon, an annoying prodigy that could defeat Alastor Moody Mad-Eye at barely fourteen. So obviously, Jongdae will be the first one of the two begging for a stop and struggling to catch his breath.
“Because,” Jongdae answers between gritted teeth. “Chanyeol is our friend.”
“Sure,” Sehun retorts. “Park Chanyeol, prince of the Slytherin house. Your friend. Tout à fait.”
Jongdae internally moans. One more French word, and he'll explode. The Dark Lord won't even have to kill him, Sehun and his random bursts of French are more than enough. Jongdae mentally curses Baekhyun, his best friend, and his reckless demeanor that made him way too excited about a potential trail for an Horcruxe, and eventually led him to get hurt. Hence Baekhyun's absence right now, and Sehun never-ending speech about how Chanyeol isn't to be trusted.
“Baekhyun trusts him,” Jongdae adds, hoping that it will be enough for Sehun this time.
He stops dead in his tracks, and with that delicate grace of his, Sehun stops just before his body crashes against Jongdae's back. Jongdae raises his wand, brows knitted together and blood pulsing in his ears. He knows Sehun is listening too, eye-scanning the woods with a spell waiting to be thrown on the tip of his tongue, and probably a hand hovering over the small of Jongdae's back to push him away if needed. Jongdae isn't even sure he heard something, but fear still came back in the blink of an eye, crawling in his insides and chewing his heart. He's not afraid of fighting, because he already fought too much, but he doesn't like waiting and wondering what face the threat will have this time, and if it's finally the time he'll fail and end up being killed. He thinks about Baekhyun, hopefully safe in Chanyeol's castle, about Jongin, their godfather Zitao, Hogwarts, until he can't bear thinking about everything he could lose anymore. He glances at Sehun, still tense next to him, and briefly wonders if Oh Sehun, well trained by the Ministry and sent during Jongdae's last year at Hogwarts under a stupid secret identity to protect him, is afraid too. If he is, he doesn't show it. His eyes are flying over the snow-covered landscape, going back and forth between rocks and stumps, while his whole body looks like it was frozen in the midst of throwing a spell. Jongdae knows that Sehun wouldn't hesitate to finish the slight flick of his wrist if he only thought there is a threat. His quick reactions have saved the three of them more than once.
“There's nothing,” Sehun states as he slightly deflates, the tension leaving his body. His eyes come back to Jongdae. “Maybe you should put on the invisibility cloak, just in case.”
“What about you?” Jongdae frowns.
Sehun shrugs. “You know we can't wear it both. I'm too tall, our feet show.”
“If you're not wearing it, neither am I.”
Sehun sighs, rolling his eyes so hard in their sockets that they only flash white at Jongdae for a short second. Jongdae doesn't like when Sehun acts like he's inexperienced and useless, because he's not. He's gone through a lot of things, most of them with Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and Sehun isn't the only one who knows how to throw a spell, after all.
“Let's keep going,” he mumbles, and he resumes walking before Sehun can say anything more.
They walk in silence for a few minutes, Sehun only a couple of steps behind Jongdae. It's not snowing anymore, but it's still freezing, and from what Jongdae can see between the bare branches, the sun is going down. They should stop and pitch the tent because they have to see clearly for the several defensive spells, but none of them says it out loud. Jongdae is worried about Baekhyun, and when he blinks, he can't help but think about the blood embed in the lines of his palms when he helped his best friend on his feet. Walking helps, because he has to think about intakes of air and pay attention to the ground, and it saves him from the too-familiar knot in his stomach with the names of the people he loves written on it.
“Do you, though?” Sehun suddenly asks. “Trust Park Chanyeol, I mean.”
Jongdae smiles as he thinks about their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express. Chanyeol was already taller than everyone, and he had years of practised douchery behind him. He was patronizing and cold when he held his hand for Jongdae to shake, and his ”You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Kim. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” still brighten Jongdae's moody days. But then Baekhyun came in, and Chanyeol turned into a mess of spluttering syllables. (Which Jongdae still likes to use to turn Chanyeol's bright days into moody ones.) Chanyeol looks like a rich asshole, he acts like a rich asshole -except with Baekhyun-, but Jongdae has grown to like him over the years at Hogwarts. With Baekhyun dragging the Slytherin into the Gryffindor common room for almost every break, Jongdae didn't really have a choice anyway. But no matter the differences or Chanyeol's old habit of being rude with Jongdae, the three of them have gone through a lot, and yes, yes Jongdae would trust Chanyeol with his life.
“I do,” he assures Sehun with a smile. He misses Hogwarts and the old days, the pranks and the insouciance. It's all far gone.
Sehun mumbles what sounds like angry French words, but Jongdae doesn't pay attention. When Sehun arrived at Hogwarts, he was the shy Beauxbâtons kid who looked annoyingly infatuated with Jongdae since he followed the latter everywhere, but little did Jongdae know. Sehun is still annoying, of course, but he also turned out to be a metamorphmagus and an auror. Kind of.
“Ca reste un Serpentard. Il pourrait être en train de prendre le thé avec le Seigneur des Tenèbres en ce moment même,” Sehun mumbles.
“Okay that's it!” Jongdae stops and turns toward Sehun. “Let's pitch the tent here. And if I hear another French word, I swear to god I'll sectusempra your nose off.”
“I'd grow a new one,” Sehun retorts.
“Yeah, but that would still hurt like a bitch.”
Sehun glares at him but doesn't protest. He throws the backpack at Jongdae's feet and walks away, already throwing protego totalums in low whispers. Jongdae takes care of the tent, but it's a quick work. When he's done, Sehun is still raising new defenses all around their camp so Jongdae decides to try and cook some ramen inside the tent.
He'll never not marvel at magic's wonders. Even though he's entered the tent a billion of times already, he always takes a few seconds to admire the whole place, the space between the basic furniture, the beds and the tiny kitchen. Hunting Horcruxes with the threat that the Dark Lord could be around the corner to kill him isn't really the kind of adventure he's always dreamed of, but Jongdae's learned to appreciate the warmth and the comfort because, really, what can he do anyway?
He points his wand at the used backpack on the ground and accio what he needs out of it. Sehun's faint mumbles can still be heard through the magic walls of the tent -he doesn't have to voice the spells but he does since Jongdae asked him to- and Jongdae cooks as quietly as he can, always paying attention to Sehun's low voice, making sure it's still there, still low, still calm. Just in case. His life has turned into a messed up series of just in cases.
It's too cold outside, so they both stay inside the tent once their stomachs are full of curry ramen. Sehun claims that his spells are undetectable and that they're safe, and Jongdae trusts him. The younger wizard is usually full of precautions, all prudence and preventive measures, so if he states that they don't have to stand guard under the fat snowflakes, Jongdae isn't going to discuss. They're both sitting crossed legs on the ground, the old radio between the two of them, and a jar vomiting a fire so blue it's blinding at their feet. Jongdae listens to the interferences, fighting his brain that makes him hear the worst words he could. There's nothing, he has to remind himself every two seconds. Just interferences. The broadcast hasn't even started. There's nothing. It's the hardest moment of the day, even harder than wandering through Korea's landscapes while wondering about the Horcruxes and about the enormity of their quest, because it's the moment when Jongdae suddenly remembers everyone he cares for. Tonight, he feels empty and tired, his feet hurt, it feels like hope died from the cold oustide the tent, and the fear of bad news makes it all even more unbearable.
“I need to see Jongin,” he whispers as the second hour of waiting starts. It's obvious that there won't be any broadcast tonight, but it's been two days, and Jongdae is sick of imaginning serpent whistles amongst the interferences.
Sehun raises an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't say a word.
“We don't even know where to go next. Baekhyun has been badly hurt, and I just...” He pauses and turns off the radio with an angry gesture of the hand. “I need to see my brother, Sehun.”
Sehun seems to consider for a second, and it's enough time for Jongdae to fear Sehun might say no. He's actually more afraid of the reasons Sehun could list, and how reasonable they would sound, how they would end up convince him. He knows it's not the safest thing to do, he knows Death Eaters are looking for Jongin too, and that they could have found him. Jongdae would be rushing into a trap to save his little brother, and everything could end up just like this. Sehun is thinking about the possibilites, Jongdae knows it, and he also knows he should think about them too, but all he thinks about is Baekhyun's blood on his hands and the interferences.
“Okay,” Sehun says. It's simple and short, slightly accentuated by years of speaking French, but it's more than enough for Jongdae to release the breath he was holding in.
Sehun rummages through his pocket and pulls a Galleon out of it. He holds it between his finger and his thumb, and puts the tip of his wand against the edge of the coin while he mouths the Protean charm incantation. It's a N.E.W.T level spell, and despite being around the age to only sit through his O.W.Ls, Sehun masters it without flinching. It's a clever method that Baekhyun came up with a couple of weeks after they left Hogwarts, and that allows them to communicate more easily. There are only five other Galleons similar to the one Sehun's holding, and they're all perfectly identical to basic Galleons if not for the serial number on their edges. It changes according to the message, the things they want to say, but it's mostly just coordinates to know where each one of them is. Sehun is currently sending a 111 111 0114, and Jongdae feels the change on his own Galleon sitting deep in his pocket because of the short warmth against his thigh. The message is clearly meant for Jongin, and every owner of one of those Galleons knows what it means.
Where are you?
“Now, we wait,” Sehun says. He blows on his Galleon and puts it back into his pocket.
Jongdae nods as he brings his knees up to his chest and locks his arms around. Instead of thinking about the lack of answer, he thinks about Zitao, who has the sixth Galleon (the five others belonging to Sehun, Jongdae, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongin), and about the Order of the Phoenix. Jongdae misses their house and the pictures on the walls, the way Zitao talks about Minseok and Luhan as if they were still alive, as if they've just pranked Yifan together. The house has become the Order's general headquarters now. Jongdae wouldn't be able to come home even if he wanted. He thought about it, working with the Order, staying safe with his godfather and Jongin, but it doesn't work like that. After years of fighting against that stupid prophecy, fighting against the game of push and pull that has been connecting him and the Dark Lord for so long, Jongdae is finally starting to understand. Nothing will ever be the same.
The warmth against his thigh pulls him out of his reverie, and his heart pumps erratically in his chest. The heaviness weighing on his eyelids the second before is long gone when he pulls the Galleon out of his pocket. He reads the coordinates and shows them to Sehun, who nods.
“Let's pack up,” Sehun says. “And then we'll go.”
They apparate in the middle of a dusty living room. The parquet floor creaks under their feet, and Sehun's hand stays firmly wrapped around Jongdae's biceps. It takes less than a second to take in the new surroundings when you apparate somewhere, but Jongdae has learned how scary those few moments can be. He's tense, his shoulder pressed against Sehun's, but nothing happens, no spells are thrown, no evil laugh echoes through the empty room. Jongdae looks up at Sehun whose eyebrows are furrowed, and notices the new shade of golden brown in the younger wizard's hair. Sehun gave up on his rainbow hair when they left Hogwarts, but he probably misses playing with the possibilities, because he still changes quite often. It's just less noticeable now. Golden brown kind of suits him. Is it shorter on the side?
“Hyung!”
Jongdae lets go of Sehun's arm with a start, and before he can say anything, a body crashes against his, knocking the air out of him. When he breathes in, eyes closed because of the ticklish sensation of soft locks grazing his cheekbones, he tastes the faint taste of chemical vanilla on the tip of his tongue, and it's more than enough to make him laugh.
Jongdae pulls out of his brother's embrace, and his eyes meet the familiar laughing crescent moons.
“Jonginnie,” he breathes out, reassured.
Jongin nods vigorously, and Jongdae takes in the change. Jongin got taller since the last time he's seen him -will his growth spurt ever stop?!- and his hair also got longer, which will probably make Zitao cringe when he'll see Jongin, but all in all, his little brother looks fine. Thinner, and also tired judging by the dark rings under his eyes, but fine. No blood, no wounds, no faded eyes taken over by the Imperio, no death threats weighing down on his features. Jongdae lets out another sigh. Sehun mumbles something in his back, in French of course, but Jongdae ignores it. He can't take his eyes away from his brother's face, from the smiling pulling up at his lips and the light in his chocolate eyes.
“So, what happened?” Jongdae says. There it is. The first shadow on Jongin's face. Jongdae has to ask, though. “I turned on the radio every night but there was nothing.”
Jongin slowly nods before glancing over his shoulder. Jongdae only notices then the few familiar faces waiting in the entrance of the living room. He knows most of them, because they were in Hogwarts with him. Muggle born children, half-blood, or pure blood wizards who just happen to believe in things the Dark Lord can't accept. They're all under seventeen, and they're all scared, but they still chose not to go back to Hogwarts, and Jongdae couldn't be happier. The fear has dug deep creases on their faces, but at least they're alive. Jongdae has heard too many stories about accidents in Hogwarts that ended up with a hurt wizard, or worse. Hogwarts isn't a safe place anymore, not for them.
“Hi, oppa.”
Jongdae smiles at the waving girl. Her dark hair is all tangled and she has a huge bruise on her cheek, but she still beams at him the same way she always did.
“Hey Wendy. What's up?”
“Oh, nothing much. We're still wizard's world's greatest plague,” she jokes.
“Yeah, living the dream, I see.”
She smiles, but it's a second too short, and Jongdae remembers why he's here. Jongin's fingers are still between his, and Jongdae presses them softly as he turns to look at his brother. That dark look doesn't suit him, and it breaks Jongdae's heart a little more because he knows something bad happened, something that was probably because of him, in one way or another. He's the one who grew up with the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead, and he wishes it could have stayed that way, but running around and leaving scars turned out to be something he's as good at as the Dark Lord himself.
“We got caught at the end of our last broadcast. We're still not sure how they did it, but they found us. Most of us managed to escape, but...”
Jongdae frowns at his brother and turns toward the rest of the Thunderstruck team. He mentally counts them, names the faces, the pressure in his heart going stronger and stronger with every sad eyes he meets.
“They got Taemin,” Jongin finally says.
Sehun gasps in his back. Jongdae doesn't want to look over his shoulder, doesn't want to see the look on Sehun's face. The metamorphmagus didn't have many friends when he got transferred to Hogwarts, but Lee Taemin was one of the few he had. Jongdae feels his throat constrict around the idea of Taemin bleeding somewhere in the country, between the hands of merciless monsters.
“Is he dead?” Sehun asks, the French accent heavier than ever in his voice. He usually talks in perfect Korean, intonations and wording on point, but there are times like this when it comes back, like a glimpse of who he was before. He still talks with detachment and indifference laced all over his voice though, but it's not enough.
Jongin nods. It's a short gesture, but it cuts the air all around them in the most violent way. Jongdae has trouble breathing.
“Avada kedavra,” Jongin explains. “He didn't even see it coming.”
Green light. Green light showering him, and that dark cold laugh. Barely a chuckle, so far from the insane laughs Jongdae has seen and heard in movies. Just a cold chuckle, like the start of an emotion that got killed before it could bloom into a full laugh. Taemin isn't the first one to die in this war, but it doesn't make his death easier to swallow. Jongdae met his mom once, on the platform. She was giving Taemin enough candies to feed the whole train.
Jongdae rubs his scar with the palm of his hand. The pain is always there, it's been there since he came back, but during times like these, it feels heavier than usual. Heavy, like guilt would be.
“Where's Baekhyun hyung?” Jongin asks.
“Got hurt,” Sehun answers before Jongdae does. “But Park Chanyeol is taking good care of him, or so I heard.”
Jongdae sighs.
“Chanyeol is a nice hyung,” Jongin approves, oblivious to the disdain in Sehun's voice. “Baekhyun will be back before you know it.”
“Conneries,” Sehun mutters.
Jongdae turns towards him, ready to snap at his so-called protector, but there's something in Sehun's face that kills the words in his throat. Sehun stares at him with a look of pure defiance, angry twitch of his lips and his shoulders burdened by the tension, but all Jongdae can see, really, is the wetness of his eyes. He bites his lips and looks back at Jongin.
Just when he's about to ask about the Order of the Phoenix, there's a loud snap that echoes through the living room, like a whip lash. Jongdae doesn't even have the time to register the silhouette now standing a few steps away from him that Sehun's fingers are already around his wrist. He hears a sharp and cold baguette that he's heard enough times to automatically translate it as wand, and he raises his right hand.
There's barely a second before someone takes in their new surroundings when they apparate somewhere, and so many things can happen in one second. There's a laugh, cold and mocking, strangely carnivorous on the edges, and there's a loud bump. It doesn't even take a second, but it's enough for Jongdae to look down at the body now bleeding all over the parquet floors, to notice the flesh missing on her face and arm, and to think she got splinched, she struggled before the first spell is thrown. It's Sehun's.
“We're out!” Sehun screams just when time gets back to its normal speed.
Death eaters apparate one after the other, and the whole living room turns into a mess of screams, dust and colourful lightnings.
“Wait, no!” Jongdae says. He takes a step forward, eyes searching for Jongin's silhouette in the middle of the black robes and toxic smoke. He raises his wand. “Reducto!”
“Jongdae!”
Someone grabs him by the wrist, and before Jongdae can do anything, he feels the familiar pull in his belly. It swallows him whole, until the colors around him are not colors anymore, but powerful winds, it drowns the screams and the casted spells, until Jongdae finally lands on solid ground and collapses.
“Are you hurt?”
Sehun kneels down, and when Jongdae looks up, he meets a face he knows by heart but isn't used to see like that. Sehun looks exactly like him, from the straight eyebrows to the thin lips. Even the scar stands out, red and oddly swollen, between two -too long- strands of hair. The expression looks funny though, twisting the features in the most unsuspected ways, the whole thing turning even more bizarre when Sehun licks his under lip, a nervous habit of his. It could be funny, but it's not, and Jongdae pushes away Sehun's hand, furious.
“I told you to stop doing that!” he snaps as he gets back on his feet. “You're gonna get yourself killed!”
Sehun shrugs. His hair looks like someone splashed it with golden paint, and the colour is slowly spreading all over the strands of hair, chopping off most of them at the same time.
“Better me than you.”
Jongdae glares at him with clenched fists.
“And stop calling me Jongdae, for fuck's sake! I'm your hyung!”
He kicks a rock with a frustrated scream, and watches it rebounce against a tree. They're back in a forest, awesome. He doesn't even know where they are exactly, but it's probably miles away from where Jongin is. Did they manage to get out in time? He tries to replay what happened in the old shack, but the few details he manage to grab don't feel trustworthy enough, and Jongdae doesn't want to draw hasty conclusions. Especially when one of them would mean Jongin's death. The only thing he's sure of is the identity of the body, that girl who fought with her life to stop the Death Eater from using her as a way to get to her friends. It was Kim Yerim, 16 years old. Pure blood.
“I'm sorry hyung,” Sehun finally says. He's halfway back to being Sehun now, slender body and voice dropping to a lower key. “We can't go back.”
Jongdae slowly nods, refusing to meet Sehun's eyes nonetheless. He wipes his cheek with his sleeve and sniffs.
“I know,” he whispers.
His voice sounds strange, strained. Scared.
“I know.”
They wait two days next to the radio. It's snowing outside, again, but the interferences beat the peaceful whisper swirling around the trees. Jongdae can't remember the last time he actually enjoyed it, that whistling silence that comes with the snow, because it now joins the quiet chuckle in his nightmares. Green light, quiet chuckle, northern soft winds. Jongin was in his last dream, taller and with longer hair that would make Zitao cringe, and he was holding an old-fashioned pocket mirror. His eyes were still as chocolate as ever, and they turned into laughing crescent moons when he glanced at the mirror, and to Jongdae's surprise, dark eyes stared back at Jongin. They turned cold, though, and red, red like the blood dripping from Yerim's half ripped off face, like the blood staining Baekhyun's shirt. Jongdae woke up with a scream, cold fever running down his spine, and the intense urge to rush to Jongin pulsating through his whole body.
They can't use the Galleons, because they don't know what happened in the shack. The Death Eaters could be in possession of Jongin's Galleon right now, and sending a message through it could make them realise it's more than just a simple coin. They sent the emergency code as soon as they arrived in the forest two days earlier to make sure no one will use them before it's safe, and it was it. Nothing else happened. And Jongdae waits. He thinks about Baekhyun, who probably joined another group of rebels now, Baekhyun waiting for their coordinates to pop up on his Galleon, but mostly, he thinks about Jongin. Not knowing kills him slowly. Usually, he doesn't waste his time with notions of fatality, but with nowhere to run, he can't help but list everything that has ever happened to him because of what a lunatic Divination professor said years ago. It doesn't help, because the more he adds to the list -parents, putting Jongin in danger, having to be the one who has to kill the most powerful dark wizard of all times, Taemin, Yerim, Baekhyun's blood, so much blood..- the more it weighs down on him, until he feels like his bones are breaking, one after another. He can't even cry, because he's too scared, too scared that he might have finally caused his little brother's death. If it's true, if Jongin is dead because of him, Jongdae doesn't know how he'll make it, how he'll be able to keep fighting. Screw the prophecy, why can't someone else take care of that evil bitch anyway. He's just Jongdae. Just Jongdae.
Sehun remains silent during those two days, and he also barely moves. He puts a bowl of ramen in front of Jongdae at regular hours of the days, and plops down next to him right after. Something finally happens on the third day. Sehun breaks his routine around eight am when the interferences change, ever so slightly. It's barely a whisper, actually more of a whistle, but they both know what it means. Sehun holds out his wand and taps the radio with the tip, answering to the low and discreet sound. Jongdae watches with wide eyes, because he doesn't want to hope. He doesn't want, but every cells of his being is now vibrating with hope.
“Zhang Yixing,” Sehun whispers to the emptiness, and the password unlocks the radio show. They always use names of the Order's members, but Jongdae can't really think of a better name for today's broadcast. Zhang Yixing, werewolf and Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, sometimes truly personifies hope itself.
“Dear listeners, Kai talking. Welcome to another broadcast of Thunderstruck. We are sorry for our absence. There was a storm, but we saw the lightning, and Thunderstruck is ready to get back to work. Now, we keep hearing truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbours, often without the Muggles’ knowledge. I’d like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken.” A pause. “But before, the names of the missing and dead wizards and witches. Ahn Jaehyo, missing.”
Jongdae doesn't hear the following names, too busy crying in his hands, the oh-so-familiar voice feeling like honey on his scar. After hours of pourring salt on it, he can only collapses because of the relief. Sehun hugs him throughout the whole broadcast.
Jongin quietly closes the bathroom's door behind him. He can still hear some of his friends snoring on the bedroom, only a couple of feet away. They deserve to sleep well, especially after everything that happened the last few days, but Jongin knows that most of them will wake up even more tired than before. That's the thing about nightmares, they make sleeping even harder than fighting off the memories when you're awake.
He locks the door and sits on the floor. The cold is biting, but Jongin doesn't let it bother him. He only has a couple of hours before his friends start to wake up, and he fully needs them. At least, he doesn't have to worry about Jongdae anymore, not as much anyway, because he felt the Galleon's warmth spreading in his pocket right after the broadcast earlier. The coordinates were for Baekhyun, of course, but Jongdae feels more alive when Jongin knows where he is.
He pulls a vintage pocket miror out of the inside of his hoodie, careful fingers manipulating it as if it was the most precious thing ever -because it kind of is- and he slowly brings it up to his face. The only thing he sees is his own reflection. He looks tired, and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot stop furrowing his eyebrows, but the creases on his face and the fear in his eyes quickly fade from his mind as his reflection turns into something else. Something better.
Jongin smiles at the soft cheeks and the thick eyebrows, and the plush lips flash a smile back at him.
“Hi, Kyungsoo,” he whispers.
“Hi Jongin.”
French translations :
tout à fait ; sure. In a ironic way.
“Ca reste un Serpentard. Il pourrait être en train de prendre le thé avec le Seigneur des Tenèbres en ce moment même,” : "He's still a Slytherin. He could be sharing a cup of tea with the Dark Lord right now for all we know."
baguette : wand
There should be more to come! Please be patient uwu