Archive of Our Own

When Yoongi was little, he had dreamed of a bookcase that stretched as far as the eye could see.

He didn’t remember the before or after, or how he got there, only that he looked up once and became woozy and disoriented, as if drunk in his own imagination. He would be sick of the hundreds of shelves that lined the gigantic keeper of rare, ancient books of all kinds just from taking one look. What’s more, he noticed the titles of some of these books as ones he had read as a child, but realizing one book that stood out from the rest; the disgust of an ordinary thing from the world without magic. 

In his own home, he would run his fingers on the bindings of tens of twos or fives or twenties and gather dust between the pads of his fingers. He would read all of the titles in the bindings, looking for an oddity, something scandalous in the midst of the same old books of wizards, never to be found. 

In the dream, there were thousands of shelves around him, and feeling trapped, he had picked the special book from the shelf that touched heaven, running in between the many copies of the same shelves over and over like a maze. 

As soon as he found himself lost, he was found, no less than by a giant of a man with a dark beard and a vest. He had never seen this man before, but while he stretched out his hand to him, there was no denying the gesture when he had been so scared. The shelves, they seemed to be closing in on him, and a feeling of claustrophobia began at his fingertips. 

Suddenly, the bearded man snatched him away up some stairs. That was when he realized his place; a vast library of unknown location or context, save for the book in his hands that could give him a clue. In his hands, he turned the book around and faced the title; The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Where had he seen this book before? He knew nothing except for one thing; this book was from the muggle world. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. 

Somethings he just knew, he wondered if that is what they called intuition or divination or just something wizards naturally carried within their minds as another gift for their ability to wield magic. He was taught since he was born that magic was hereditary and that anything that was not magical was not good, that anyone from the non-magical world was not worthy. 

Many days went by with the dream of the library in Yoongi’s subconscious. He tried to piece it together by going to the library in his home, but to no avail. No such book existed in his family’s inventory. They would burn all muggle books immediately, if found. If found… Then Yoongi would continue to search. 

Some years passed and Yoongi would often visit his family’s library for no reason than force of habit. He sometimes stood in between the shelves quite disoriented, not knowing what he was doing or why.

It took him to Hogwarts to figure out the root of what his subconscious had been trying to tell him all those years ago. 

It took him to Hogsmeade Station, where he met the elusive Jimin Park, a boy who caught his gaze one second and disappeared in the crowd the next. 

When he first saw Jimin, he thought for sure he was a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pureblood wizarding families, and was instantly drawn. 

Yoongi had been sitting all alone in his compartment in the Hogwarts Express when he first caught a glimpse of the boy, who had glanced through the glass to see who was inside, and they locked eyes for a second before the boy hurriedly shuffled away. Yoongi had then opened the door and leaned over it as he called after the boy who was walking away. 

“Are you looking for someone?” 

A rough patch in the rails made them jump with the train as the impact skidded away. The boy visibly flinched and turned to face him placing his palm to a closed window for leverage, scratching the side of his face where stray tufts of pale hair curled around his finger. 

“Um, not you.” He says, then blushes furiously. 

“I mean, that was rude, sorry. It’s no one, really, it’s just, well, I haven’t made friends yet.”

“And you’re going around trying to see who looks friendly enough to be friends with you?”

It’s not often that people don’t cringe at Yoongi’s blunt mouth. He doesn’t mind it anyway, because the boy clearly meant no harm so why should he be offended? He knows he has an ugly stare. 

“No! I was just-”

Yoongi forces himself not to roll his eyes, rather, he steps out from the entrance of his compartment and steps towards the awkward boy with hair the color of polar bear fur. He wonders if it was some kind of magical accident that discolored his hair, because he knows with 26% certainty that is not his actual hair color (his eyebrows are very dark). 

“I’m Yoongi Min, from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, first-year, Slytherin, and you are?”

“Yoongi! I mean, I’m Jimin Park, it’s nice to meet you, Yoongi. But if you’re a first year, how do you know your House?”

“It’s predetermined. My entire family before me was Slytherin. There is no other path for me.” 

“That’s kind of weird.” Jimin says, before his brain catches up with his mouth, and then he’s ramblin again. “No, I mean-!”

“I guess it is weird, isn’t it? By the way, what's wrong with your hair?"

They decide to sit together. 

It takes Yoongi only the entire day to find out Jimin is actually not in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. In fact, he is not even Pureblood. By the end of the day, a fellow Slytherin tells him that Jimin is a Half-blood, and stupid as he is, Yoongi has the guts to ignore Jimin, even when they get set up as roommates. 

Yoongi had grown up in an environment of prejudice from his father, and while he had never taught him to hate on Half-bloods, Yoongi had just assumed that anything that had come from non-magical realms was bad. He had forgotten that his own mother had been a Half-blood, before she mysteriously disappeared. 

Yoongi hadn’t thought baby-faced, exceptionally hard-working and kind-hearted wizards like Jimin could avoid Hufflepuff and be sorted into Slytherin, but then he had been proven wrong many times that first year.

At first, Yoongi had failed to see that Jimin had a goal in mind; to find friends by any means necessary. It was in this thought that, Yoongi realized, made him a Slytherin. Jimin would later prove himself to go to the ends of the earth to achieve his ends.

His first experience with what was outside of his comfort zone had found a space in the palm of his hand like that book he had reached for in his age-old dream, the muggle book with Jimin’s face on it, that led him out of the puzzling maze of Pureblood dogma. 

His second, was Namjoon. 

Namjoon had been the bearded man that led him up the stairs towards an abstract concept known as heaven. Namjoon was a muggle-born. When Yoongi had first met him, he had thought a wizard could not get any lower, but now it was different. 

Now, Yoongi’s own name tastes foreign in his tongue. 

s

Namjoon’s hair was wispy and wild and snowy, like a blizzard, and it reminded Yoongi of his roommate Jimin’s when they were in first year, when he woke up in the mornings at the break of dawn and drew Yoongi from his bed, accidentally, and without meaning to disturb him. 

Yoongi would open his eyes blearily and groan at Jimin to shut the blinds and let him sleep until the last minute before he would be late for Transfiguration class, only catching sight of that platinum head of wispy locks. He had learned to think of the style almost like a possession of Jimin, his own creation, because that was the boy who had left a mark on him when he first came to Hogwarts. 

Now in the third year, his hair now colored a light brown, and Yoongi still thought about the snow-white of his hair from two years ago. He swept a hand through his own black locks, untouched of chemicals or glamour charms or magical discoloration accidents, and wondered how he and Namjoon had become friends. He can’t remember the exact moment when it all had changed. 

He can admit, now that it has significantly waded away, that he had a bit of a crush on the owner of those platinum locks back then. He had concluded that it had been purely due to their close proximity to each other throughout the entirety of first year, as they had been each other’s first Hogwarts friend as soon as they boarded the train to the wizarding school from their respective homes in the wizarding world. It had been a natural reaction to his desire for comfort in this new environment, nothing more. 

It had surprised him that he could have so easily befriended and fancied a half-blood, but now that he had been exponentially more exposed to wizards of all types and blood-status, he didn’t think as much of it. Except when it came to his father, because the old man would likely never change in his prejudice against muggle-borns, or as he would say, “mudbloods” .

And so here he was, with his first muggle-born friend from the year prior, facing him to a proximity he wouldn’t have previously thought possible. 

It had taken some time, but Yoongi had grown to admire Namjoon and his wit. Even his love of books was endearing somehow, as much as Yoongi himself disliked to ‘lose himself’ to the likes of The Complete Herbal textbook. 

They had been hanging out by the library (Namjoon’s idea, of course) for nearly half an hour now, and the lack of material for Yoongi to focus on was about to drive him up the wall.

The library is sparingly lit from the wall torches at night, and solely by the sunlight that shines through the numerous clear windows during the day. The majority of the place is made of chocolate-brown wood of various types. The bookshelves go from the floor to the ceiling that is nearly 10 meters high as it is old. The ancient architecture permeates through everything that can be touched. The ancient spells of maintenance to the area are retouched each month, keeping the untouched shelves of runes no longer decipherable clean of dust and the windows free of cracks. They are longer than a person, the glass to the outside, and decorated intricately with patterns from before the Christian God was born. Overall, the are the same for sections of all seven windows top and bottom, with embellishments and different colored logos in between showcasing the Hogwarts Houses and some Fantastical Beasts. Atop much smaller chest of drawers filled with any magical objects up for rental but books, are paintings of wizards long gone. The many tables that line the floor of the library are long and wooden, as are the chairs, lined around them like the knights of the round table, if the tables were in fact round. Yoongi often complains how uncomfortable they are. Perhaps he should talk to a prefect about that, or run for Head Boy himself.

If Yoongi is completely honest with himself, the uncanny familiarity of the place gives him the heebie-jeebies. 

Yoongi suggests they go somewhere less anxiety-inducing until the school’s curfew. He thinks the shelves might close in on him.

“Unless you want to sit in the middle of a corridor or lounge by one of the hundreds of great staircases, what could you possibly suggest to be a better place than the library? There is no one at the Great Hall since dinner is over and we’re not allowed outside at this time or in each other’s Common Rooms without some illegally obtained polyju-”

“Astronomy Tower.” 

“It’s winter! And I’m pretty sure we’re not allowed there winter nights. We only have Astronomy in the warmer months.”

Namjoon should’ve known better than to think Yoongi would care for breaking that particular rule. 

“I happen to like the cold. It makes me feel less like a zombie.”

“I just wish we could somewhere more comfortable.”

“Any other ideas?”

“The library.”

“We’re already in the library.”

“And?”

“I will let a Mandrake take me to my grave before I feel completely at peace in this gastly place! You see how these ancient shelves could fall on me any second?”

“You’re so weird, Yoongi.” Not weird, just a tad paranoid, and a bit picky.

“And you’re not?”

Yoongi gives him a look, of which Namjoon just raises his eyebrows and shrugs. 

“I suggest we leave before I’m cursed to call you Cecil for the rest of the month.”

Namjoon’s middle name is known to be a source of trauma for him. He’s said it’s because he used to have bullies tease him by calling him this name, but Yoongi thinks it’s simpler than that. He just didn’t look like a Cecil. 

“You mean I’m cursed to hear you call me Cecil at all.”

“Exactly.”

Namjoon sighs and put his book down, pushing his chair back into place. He knows that other students are bound to try to shush them again if they didn’t leave soon, as was usually the case if Namjoon tried to put up with Yoongi’s bickering; an unending saga that only escalated. 

He tucks the book under his arm and walks to the entrance before Yoongi can complain again.

Most people, especially non-Slytherins, didn’t have the energy to put up with Yoongi during first year, and the way he had presented himself had unfortunately solidified his persona for his entire Hogwarts career, unless he did something drastically positive that changed his outlook for the better. This was another reason why he had imprinted on Jimin back then, since the fellow Slytherin was one of the few people who actually put up with his constant argumentative state of being from the beginning. 

Jimin had went on to become Keeper of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and Yoongi had felt himself eating dust, which had put a strain on their relationship until surprisingly Namjoon came along seemingly out of nowhere, since that was the least Yoongi expected after the mudblood incident their first year.

But of course nothing was the same as it once was, and still. 

He hadn’t expected Namjoon to be so forgiving, and surprised himself with thinking his actions weren’t worthy of forgiveness for the first time. Namjoon had made Yoongi introspective, and therefore less of a snob, even if it had taken some rather drastic measures and a number of short 3AM secret mourning sessions to get him there. Creating a new person from the ashes is no easy task.

It was only unfortunate that Namjoon had to spend half of his time at the Ravenclaw side of Hogwarts, because it would be very much less awkward if he was there to lighten the air between him and Jimin. He would be smart enough to figure something out.

Namjoon led one step ahead, as usual. 

“So is the wish of the O-so-noble-Yoongi of the wonderfully pureblood Min family.”

“Cecil.”

“My father will hear about this,” Namjoon teased, bringing back memories of when Yoongi had been O-so-spoiled and reluctant to let his father’s influence go. 

“Your father wishes everyone called you Cecil.”

“Actually, my mother gave me that name.” 

“Your mother-”

“Why are you so interested about my mudblood family. I haven’t forgotten you let that word slip out of your filthy mouth first year. I thought you were absolutely vile for a wizard with the label of pureblood.”

Namjoon hadn’t known any better when he had first taken a trip to the wizarding world that first year, and so naturally he assumed the term pureblood was something to be cherished, whatever it could mean. Now he knows better than to give into illogical prejudice, especially since that would be going against his own class and worse; the muggle couple who had adopted him as a baby whom he loved much more than himself. 

He knows Namjoon is just teasing, but Yoongi bristles, feeling scabs from a recent wound on his skin, the desire to pick it and let it bleed. 

“I already said I’m sorry my dad drilled that bloody lunacy into my head my entire life.” 

“Your mother-”

Yoongi feels a pang in his chest. He tries his hardest not to think of his mother and her decision to leave him and his father a few years prior thanks to his father’s insistent dabbling in the Dark Arts. He resents her for not being able to push his father away from that, for leaving him to deal with his insufferable influence alone. For having no choice.  

“Shut up about my mother!”

“Exactly.” Namjoon says, not catching how hurt Yoongi actually sounds. 

Now that he thinks about it, he did have a choice, does have a choice. He chose to not let his father’s influence get him too much, as he had realized the effects that had on him until recently, and even now, but that comes at a price. If he snitched on his father to the Ministry of Magic and got him sent to Azkaban, there was no way he would get any inheritance. In fact, he would be disowned, and he would no longer have a family. Even if his dad was probably worth criminalizing, he was still his father, and the only family he was close with. Traditions die hard. 

Yoongi swallows. 

They stand in silence for a few seconds, the air increasingly heavy, until Namjoon catches on and says,

“You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Likewise.”

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

Yoongi sighs.

“She should’ve taken me with her. When my father finds out I’ve been sympathizing with mud-muggle-borns for three years, he will Crucio me.”

Namjoon looks like he’s about to smack him over the head with his book.

“Um, you mean two. You were shit to me in first year, remember?”

 He thinks back to when Yoongi had come out of his way to ask about Namjoon’s blood-status, of which he calmly replied,”What is that?”, earning a gasp from Yoongi and a weird look from Jimin, who stood behind him ready to yank the rude boy away from asking such a question since he knew how Yoongi would react.

“Mudblood.” 

“Pardon?”  

“Excuse my friend-” 

“Don’t touch me, Park!” 

Namjoon’s flashback is cut off when he hears Yoongi’s voice for real this time, and much gentler than he remembered, even if he didn’t think the matter-of-fact tone of his voice would ever change. 

“That’s great, but I really don’t care. That’s not in my ray...ray...”

“Radar?” Namjoon smiles. He had used the muggle expression sometimes in front of Yoongi, and apparently the wizard, eager to stop being so ignorant of muggles and muggle-borns, had picked it up. It seemed as if a miracle how much Yoongi had been willing to change in just two years. 

“Yeah, that. I don’t even know if I used it correctly.”

“Not quite, but good try. What’s in your radar, then?”

“If I used it incorrectly, why are you using it the same way?” 

Namjoon shrugs. “We get it. So?”

Yoongi pauses. “I don’t know.” He mumbles, because he is unsure, and because it is easy to leave it at that. The process of molding something worth sharing is slow.

“You’ll outgrow your father in due time.”

 It was weird how Namjoon seemed to know what was on his mind without him having to say it. The wizard was more psychic than Professor Treelawney, and could probably rival Jeongguk Jeon, Gryffindor's Divination prodigy. 

It was weird how Namjoon knew exactly what to say. 

“How the bloody hell does one simply outgrow their father?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

Yoongi scoffs. Bloody good advice that was. 

They’re walking along the hallway now. Namjoon takes the nearest set of stairs and climbs up to the fourth floor before walking back into another corridor. 

“Where are we going?”

“Secret hideout. It’s more private.”

“That’s literally just another library.”

“I am not going to freeze myself by going to Astronomy Tower-”

“You’re a bloody wizard, cast some warming charms.”

“No.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s hard to argue with Namjoon. He’s probably the only wizard thickheaded enough to leave one of their arguments victorious. 

“Cecil.”

“Why the bloody hell do we need privacy?”

“You were just telling me you were having anxiety back at the li-”

“Book-anxiety! Not social-anxiety. Merlin’s beard, Namjoon, I’m not that pathetic.” He hoped Namjoon was not psychic enough to know when he was bluffing, even when Namjoon did let him know that he knew when he was, most of the time. 

Namjoon is about to say The hell is that? But thinks better of it and instead smacks the back of Yoongi's  head with his newly acquired The Evolution of Magical Species. 

“What-!” Yoongi is nothing if not reactive. 

“You’re a Grade A Pathetic.”

Yoongi won’t ever admit how sensitive he is to criticism, but at least now he can take half of Namjoon’s teasing without giving him a bloody nose like he did first year, accidentally, though honestly, Yoongi thought he deserved it anyway. Now he doesn’t, and if he hopes to keep it that way, then his father would have to keep his eyes from making Hogwarts paranoid, or Yoongi might just get a mild case of split personality.

s

It’s a surprisingly warmer afternoon among the many cold winter days, and Namjoon had invited Yoongi to the gardens for the fifteenth time (he had been counting) since winter began. So much for being sensitive to cold, not that Yoongi often took up on the offer, because what the bloody hell would they be doing in the gardens? Frolicking with the dancing plants until a Mandrake’s cry popped them dead? 

Yoongi is wearing a hideous black ski hat too big for his head he only puts up with because it was given to him by his estranged mother the year before she bloody well packed her bags and left. There is an equally unappealing tuft coming out from the middle he doesn't know what to do with. His Slytherin House scarf is awkwardly wrapped around his neck in a very wrong way, and his dark boots are slippery in the frosted earth. He looks extra pale in all that black, like a ghost. He wouldn't be surprised if Moaning Myrtle greeted him then and asked him how he had died. 

Namjoon, on the other hand, sports a pleasant-looking snow beanie of red and white with fuzzy tails coming off both ends. Yoongi would comment about him being a Gryffindor wannabe again but thinks better of it. The air around them is cold enough. Unlike Yoongi, he wears no scarf, but his coat is exceptionally pretty, with snowflakes coating all around the pale shade of blue. There is light brown fur around the neck area. A cowlick curl of wispy hair is coming out of Namjoon's hat to decorate his forehead like angel-hair, and it makes Yoongi want to both tuck it in and draw it out.

The cold air flushes both of their faces.

“You know the amortentia potion we learned about today?” Namjoon looks up from Magical Medicinal Plants. 

“I thought you were reading that boring textbook for some fun light-reading . If you try stealing anything to make some dumb love potion I’m telling Jimin to snitch on you. ”

“Merlin, I’m just asking a question. What are you mad about?”

“According to Jimin, everything.”

“You’re mad at Jimin.”

“Yes. No. Shut up.”

Namjoon chuckles under his breath, raising his book to cover his face suddenly when Yoongi glares at him. 

“What did he do this time?” 

“When does Jimin ever do anything spiteful?”

Namjoon feigns being oblivious. “Um, well, let’s see… When he turned himself into Snape to scare Seokjin Kim into thinking he was in trouble for accidentally getting Jimin’s robes dirty? When he snitched on John Cook for being in Hagrid’s Hut without permission even though Hagrid obviously knew he was there? You’ve told me how angry he gets when someone so much as looks him the wrong way. That boy is a snake.”

 Well someone clearly has the wrong impression about Jimin. 

“That’s not why.”

Something in Yoongi decides he doesn't care if Jimin gets a little unlucky. 

"He is a snake." 

“Look at you talking bad about your friend behind his back.” 

“He deserves it .”

“Does he now?”

Yoongi just stares. 

Namjoon purses his lips. 

“Interesting. “

Yoongi rolls his eyes. 

“Well then…?”

“Let me guess, you’re just jealous he got a spot in the Quidditch team. Seriously, Yoongi, you don’t even play Quidditch.” 

Namjoon is a psychic or is Yoongi really that easy to read?

“That’s not the point.” 

“Then what is?”

“Nothing.”

“So you’re just so petty that you’re jealous of Jimin getting a spot in a sport that you don’t even play.”

“That’s not it, bloody hell.” 

“Well then, you’ll leave me guessing.”

He subconsciously crosses his arms. 

“I will.”

A pause and Namjoon looks back at his book, much to Yoongi’s relief. He digs the heels of his feet against the frost in the earth and Yoongi makes a disgusted face. That is sure to melt and stain his boots when they go back inside. Not to mention, they’ll probably get caught if his dirty footsteps can be traced back to the garden!

Then he looks up again, and his next words sound more calculated. 

“Does he smell like the potion?” 

That’s why he brought up amortentia?

“I will make sure you leave this sodding library with a bloody nose.”

Namjoon shrugs and then goes back to digging the earth for seedlings planted by Professor Sprout.

“Good times.” 

s

It’s finally the weekend and Yoongi had plans to stay in his room sleeping the entire day, melting into the overpowering woody smell that had begun to fester since his (magical?) bed begun to… shed... save for maybe eating a meal or two, but alas, an owl comes rapping at his window and startles him awake. Every room in the castle conveniently carries at least one window for situations like these. Humans are social creatures, after all.

This is the only time Yoongi actually misses Jimin’s presence, as the fellow Slytherin would have swiftly taken care of business had he not left to practice for Quidditch with (or without) his team, again. These days he is rarely in their room. He may not miss Jimin’s presence, but he does miss something else he can’t tolerate to muse over, something they used to have. 

He groans into his pillow, shuffling to the window. It is a familiar Brown Owl with big eyes and way too much touchy-ness for his liking. He pulls the latches and pushes the window out as a cold wind rushes in and he quickly snatches the letter inside before shooing the owl away and shutting the window with a sigh. He dusts the frost off of his pyjamas and shudders. 

Of course.

He even knew the owl’s name; Runch Randa, Runch for short. What a ridiculous name for an owl. 

He hesitantly, but harshly, rips the letter open with his nail-bitten and bruised fingers, paper-cutting himself in the process and adding yet another injury to his pale, blue-veined hands. 

Ouch.

He licks at the cut and tastes blood. He spits it back out, disgusted. The blue that ran in his veins might be just short of royal, but blood is blood...

“Secret hideout. 4pm. Don’t make me tell Jimin you like him. - You Know Who”

What was with the mildly threatening letter? It was as if Namjoon had thought of it and whipped it up in 5 seconds tops. Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. He would have to see what was up. 

s

They had met in the Study Room at precisely 4pm. Yoongi hadn’t bothered to change into his uniform, as per Hogwarts policy that students wear their uniforms- Oh wait- he realizes.

It’s the weekend. 

It doesn’t stop Namjoon from asking though. 

“Why are you wearing those clothes?”

Uh...

“I woke up like this.”

“Way to look presentable to see me.”

“Really, Namjoon, you’re not a-” pretty girl “-date”

“If McGonagall sees you like this she will deduct five points from Slytherin.” 

Yoongi shrugs. “That’s what she does best, anyway.” 

Namjoon looks just a bit exasperated. Was his sleepwear really that offensive or did Namjoon like to gaze at McGonagall with puppy eyes during his spare time? 

They go to the very back of the room, where no one dares go (just because it’s hard to get there from all the zigzagged shelves and stacks of random things that seems to change by the day, as if magic ) and then Yoongi waits for Namjoon to shut up about the sodding weather and get to the reason for that mildly threatening letter that could have as well been from dear old Voldie, coming back from the ashes. 

After some silence from Yoongi, and fiddling - what the bloody hell - from Namjoon, his next words have creases forming in Yoongi’s third eye. 

He’s talking about the potion again. 

“Are you lovestruck, what’s with you and that love potion?” Yoongi asks. It’s the second time Namjoon has brought up amortentia, and it makes Yoongi uneasy. 

Namjoon’s expression darkens. His eyes do a shaky scan around them. Since it’s not exam season, this Study Room remains particularly empty. Namjoon likes to call it a secret hideout. Yoongi thinks another sodding library fits best.

“Have you ever tried it?” 

Yoongi licks his lips, catching Namjoon’s distracted gaze. For some reason he wants to laugh. 

“I was the one Professor Slughorn chose to try it, remember?” 

“Yeah, I knew that.” 

Why you being weird. 

There is no way Namjoon forgot about that. The entire class was practically begging Professor Slughorn to make Yoongi say what attracted him. Yoongi doesn't know if he even remembers, or rather, didn't really want to think about it. 

He guesses he will press the topic Namjoon has presented, because there is definitely something brewing inside that broad mind of his that he might overthink into not speaking. 

“What does it smell like to you?” 

 “Books” 

“Obviously.”

 “Wood, a burning wax candle, and… leather, or maybe lavender.”

Leather and lavender were not one bit close scent-wise. 

There is only one reason why Namjoon could have wanted to talk to him about something as personal as the smell of amortentia. 

 “Oh? Fancy someone, do you?” Yoongi smirks. 

Namjoon strangely decides to ignore Yoongi, and feigns his attention catching at a specially dull sentence of the book he has open in front of him. 

“Who?”

Apparently Namjoon regrets starting the conversation at this point, which makes Yoongi all the more curious and determined to crack him open. 

“I know you want to tell me.”

Namjoon doesn’t even look up from his book. 

“Tell me.” 

“You know who.” Namjoon says barely above a whisper, not looking up from his -where the shared ancestors of unicorns and pegasus originated . 

No, he doesn’t know. In fact, he has no idea. Wood and candles? He cannot think of anyone they both know who has an affinity for tree bark or a relationship with wax. He can only think of the appalling state of his bed, whose foundations seemed to be rotting to produce a dead gray color, and the splinters! Absolutely horrific to have to deal with them every single night, so of course he had tried to fix the dreadful thing with dried wax he acquired from the Storage Room, against school rules, while Jimin nagged at him to just tell the Head of Slytherin so they could replace the rotting bark with some sturdy hawthorn. Now Yoongi carried the unfortunate stench of dead birch in the pores of his hands, or was it mahogany? It was so annoying that he had to wash his hands with that sodding lilac-colored soap at least five times a day. 

Something in Yoongi shocks him then, and for a second he is unsure what happened and why it is so important. Then is slowly begins to dawn on him, not like a feather ever so gently flowing to the ground, but like a wave making its way to the shore. Frustratingly, in the end, Yoongi is left not knowing what to think. His mind blanks, and so do his words. Now he really was being pathetic, or better yet, Ridikulus . He really needed a boggart right now. 

Instead, he stares at his wrists, unable to move them up to his face, a strange feeling of guilt rising up from his chest to heat his cheeks. Namjoon looks even more uncomfortable, but somehow relieved, and the silence drags on for a few seconds before Namjoon drops his book for the fourth time since he last spoke. 

“Taehyung always carries my books back to their original places in the library-”

“Taehyung stinks of sodding wet grass.” 

Yoongi found it hard to believe that Namjoon was crushing on the Hufflepuff librarian’s assistant. There was no way his affinity for the smell of old paper came from the few times Taehyung would help him out in the library. It seemed so far fetched considering all the other scents Namjoon described, that he knew he was bluffing. 

He goes with Namjoon to the library nearly every bloody day. 

After his initial shock, Yoongi grows bold at the half-hearted confession, suddenly intrigued by the idea of flirting with a muggle-born. Consciously, this time. 

“I’ll make this easier for you.” he folds his right sleeve halfway to his elbow and raises his wrist to Namjoon’s nose with his palm forming a fist. “What’s it smell like?”

He’s just acting, really, never one to be too sure about anything at all, not even the stars in Astronomy class, but deep down there is an enthusiasm to get the truth out; some eerie intuition that knows everything with utmost certainty, except that Yoongi has no conscious access to that part of himself. In the end, he makes of it a joke in order to hide the truth, as he has done so often in the past. 

He’s not sure the effect is what he intended because now Namjoon looks considerably more panicked and flinches away from Yoongi’s arm. 

“What?”

He can’t back out now, so Yoongi presses with even more urgency in his voice. 

“What does it smell like?”

Yoongi notices that if he just opens his hand it will perfectly fit into the curve of Namjoon’s left cheek, and he thinks about it for a second; the prospect of seeing him break out into his dimples enticing. The thought ebbs away when doubt seeps in.

“Like you”

Namjoon says slowly, too calculating to not arise suspicion, and Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“No, I smell like bloody Park Jimin.” Yoongi notices Namjoon cringe. 

“Obviously.”

Namjoon’s eyes scan the ground a little too intensely, and Yoongi nearly follows his gazing to see if he has found something interesting on the floor or something, but then he just sighs and stands up. 

“I’m going to the Common Room. See you in Potions on Monday-”

“Wait! I need to tell you something.” 

“I am getting tired of waiting. If you don’t spit it out I’m going back to sleep.”

“Sorry, I… didn’t mean to get you out of bed.”

They stare at each other for a beat too long. Yoongi is waiting, but Namjoon isn't fast enough. 

“Bye.”

“Okay! Can you sit back down?”

“Why?”

“It’s important.”

“Rea-lly?” Yoongi plops himself back in the wooden slab with an audible oof.

“You have a minute.”

Namjoon seems to have calmed himself considerably since Yoongi mistakenly attempted flirting for fun . Conjuring not the brightest of ideas is a running gag for him apparently, ever since the beginning when Namjoon had advised him once by dramatically turning around to face him and saying, “You’ll get us both expelled .” 

It’s amusing watching Namjoon try to gather himself in front of him, especially when he has been a cause in such behaviour. His quiet “Okay, relax” to himself doesn’t escape him. 

Namjoon looks him dead in the eye, then moves to his arm, the one he had been subjected to just seconds before, and takes an unnecessarily strong hold of it. Yoongi almost says Ouch in surprise had the air not suddenly grown heavy. 

“You smell like it.” he says, unwavering. 

Yoongi knows what he means, and it does not faze him too much. He does not say anything, but instead brings his hand up to his face again, this time actually doing what he had thought of before and cupping his face with the palm of his hand. The pale of his hand contrasts with Namjoon’s tan skin in a satisfying way. 

“That’s it?” he says instead, when Namjoon finally smiles into it. His dimples become visible, and Yoongi chuckles, letting his hand go when Namjoon tilts his head just the lightest. Yoongi’s hands are usually cold, but his palms are warm. 

“So you like me.” 

Namjoon shrugs, playing it cool, and Yoongi wants to laugh because he knows how serious Namjoon is about this, especially when he saw first hand how anxious he got before finally confessing. 

“You’re my friend and I love you.”

That’s it. That’s the punchline. 

Yoongi cringes. He was never good with those words. Never good with this abstract concept of love. He knows he loves Namjoon and his friendship, but he cannot express it into direct words. He can use words in a metaphorical sense, and he can express acts of love, but not LOVE love, not I love you .  He can take simpler versions of the sentiment; a friend to another, but he knows this is different. It’s a lot more complicated. Even if he does love him, even if he did feel the same way, he cannot say it back. 

He suddenly feels sorry for Namjoon. 

“I appreciate you saying that.” he says awkwardly, because he feels the need to say something. How the bloody hell had he been able to flirt but simply hearing an I love you renders him speechless? 

Namjoon is looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for more. Yoongi realizes something then, and hopes Namjoon has not gotten the wrong idea. He feels even more sorry, but logic is failing him. He wants to see Namjoon happy. 

“You’re easy to… like” he forces out, rubbing his palms on his thighs insistently. He doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say, or how he truly feels, or even if he wants to say anything at all or what he should say, so he gives up trying to form the right words. 

“Well…?”

Yoongi has reigned himself in. He steps out from the wooden slab and calmly walks around it to reach Namjoon’s side. Once he is standing next to him, he stops. Namjoon looks up at him from his seat in mild confusion. 

“Um-”

Why don’t we figure it out?

Yoongi doesn’t give Namjoon time to gather his thoughts before he is bending down to his face and capturing his lips with his own. He kisses him chastely once and draws back to look at him intently. Namjoon’s eyes are blown like saucers unlike anything Yoongi has seen, not even like when McGonaggall gave him detention for something that wasn’t really his fault. 

He kisses Namjoon like that. In his bloody pyjamas. 

"Mm-"

He obviously wants to say something, but Yoongi stops him.

 He leans in again, slowly this time, and closes his eyes. Namjoon does too. He takes his time to feel the air around him, goosebumps on his skin once he feels Namjoon’s warm breath rising and falling, quickening. He hadn’t even touched his lips. Just stays suspended in the air, that ardorous pause between breathing and holding your breath, cold and warm, night and day, a sunset or a sunrise? He can’t tell and it’s driving Namjoon crazy. He needs to know. 

When Namjoon is about to open his eyes, Yoongi crashes his lips into his with a newfound hunger. They go back and forth for a few seconds, judging each other’s strengths, the weight of their desires, before standing and accidentally tripping and pushing each other away, before they fall on top of each other, gasping. 

It was worth a try. 

They’re both pretty red by the end of it, and Yoongi is very visibly blushing, out of his control, of course. Only then does he find his words. 

“You taste like… mint.” He is self-conscious to lick his lips, but does it anyway, tasting the vague aftertaste of the herb. A warmth spreads throughout his body, his shedding skin. 

Namjoon covers his mouth with the palm of his hand. “My... toothpaste.”

“I just wanted to get your mind off Jimin.” Yoongi says quickly. It’s the first thing that pops in his head.

 “I don’t… I don’t like him anymore.” He knows Namjoon must have been thinking about that and it was probably why he hadn’t confessed earlier. He knows Yoongi liked Jimin first year before things got weird between them, but he couldn’t be sure that Yoongi had stopped liking him. 

Yoongi didn’t think Namjoon could blush, but everything about him screamed I am Red with love. Without the fear of rejection is what makes love grow stronger. 

“Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?”  he has the audacity to giggle. It’s contagious and makes Yoongi laugh too, endeared. If this keeps up, he doesn’t think he will have a problem being a better lover. 

“That’s not until next year, Joon.”

If he goes to the such a big event as the Yule Ball with a muggle-born, his father will definitely know. Yoongi forces himself to think that it can't be too big of a deal, even if he is terrified of the consequences. As Namjoon said, he is bound to outgrow his father, whatever that meant. 

I’ll think about it. 

Namjoon shrugs, grinning like an idiot high in amortentia.

“It was worth a try.”