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gukyi · 5 years

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do you want me (dead?) | jjk

summary: jeon jungkook, quidditch extraordinaire and overall pain in your ass, is the one problem you can’t seem to solve, even with years of being the school’s advice columnist under your belt. that is, until you begin to receive letters from someone under the alias of bambi, requesting help with confessing to a crush, and suddenly, your relationship with jeon jungkook takes a turn for... the worst?

{hogwarts!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader word count: 11k genre: fluff! just fluff !!! warnings: this may or may not be absolute self-indulgent trash. a/n: ha! you thought it would be like 20k, you were wrong. and honestly, i’m kind of glad it’s the same length as the rest of the sorted series. you know, for uniformity. anyway, enjoy this flaming garbage dumpster pile of a jungkook e2l fic. have i ever written anything more self indulgent? no? also, happy 2 years to gukyi dot tumblr dot com!!!!

Dear Y/N,

I need your help! I’ve liked this boy for a couple months now, and he’s friends with some of my friends, but any time he comes up to me I run away because I don’t know what to do. Whenever I’m around him I clam up and can’t say more than a couple of words before chickening out and running away. He probably thinks I hate him. Do you have any advice on how to tell him that I like him?

Yours truly, An awkward third-year

Dear An Awkward Third-Year,

Don’t be afraid! I’m sure we’ve all been there with the person we’re crushing on. The nervousness is totally natural. But the only way that he’s going to know how you feel is if you take initiative and tell him! I obviously can’t advise you too personally, but if you dance around the topic, you might confuse him! The worst thing that he can do is tell you no, but the only way to know if he feels the same way is if you tell him. And if you’re scared to just blurt it out, figure out some common interests and just worm it into the conversation. Don’t get too hung up over a boy, but do let him know how you feel! You may get some really great results. Good luck!

Yours truly, Y/N

The letters are dropped off at the front of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall every Thursday at exactly seven in the evening, right after you finish eating dinner but before you resign yourself to your dormitory for the night. They’re always neatly packaged, pushed into a nice little stack and wrapped together with a long string of tweed. It’s just enough time for you to read them all, select the three or four that will make it into the next issue of the school’s weekly newspaper, which prints on Sundays.

“I hate your owl,” Yuju says one Thursday night, feeding it bits of corn she’s plucking off of the cob on her plate. “He acts too much like my uncle’s nineteen-year-old golden retriever and not enough like an actual owl.” Her fingers drift away from its mouth and towards the side of its head, scratching it as it coos happily, curling into her touch.

“Why do you think I named him Dog?” You deadpan, unwrapping the stack of letters in front of you. “Stop feeding him corn. You know that the butter makes him throw up.”

“All the more reason to,” Yuju says, plucking off a couple more bits for Dog to wolf down before you actually begin to berate him. Half the reason he even lingers after dropping off the weekly papers, instead of flying off like the rest of the owls, is because both you and Yuju seem to have developed quite the soft spot for him. She moves on from the corn and to the tortilla on her plate, which she says is part of a deconstructed taco. It, in total honesty, looks like a very small, very measly, very insignificant Mexican buffet.

“I hate you,” she mumbles under her breath. It’s unclear if the words are directed at you, her best friend, or Dog, the owl with what she deems is the ‘most ridiculous name for an owl in the history of wizardry as the homo sapiens species knows it’, which is a bit of an overstatement if you do say so yourself. “I hate you and your dumbass name.”

“Stop, he can understand you,” you say, reaching over to cover Dog’s ears. Dog hoots unsuspectingly, looking as pleased as ever as he pecks at the tortilla in Yuju’s hands. “And stop feeding him. Pretty soon he’s going to stop eating the wholesale beetles I buy him because he’s been too exposed to the high quality deliciousness of the Great Hall’s cafeteria meals. It’s like dessert for him.”

“Fine,” Yuju says with a sigh, letting Dog nip the last piece of tortilla in her hand before shooing him off. He flies away with ease, but not before he sends a glare your way for limiting his Great Hall dinner intake. Great. Now not only will your owl begin refusing the healthy, hearty, cheap-for-the-quantity wholesale beetles, but he will also hate the hand that feeds it. Ungrateful feathered sausage.

Turning back to the reason that Dog was even being hand-fed the equivalent of McDonald’s milkshakes in the first place, you begin to shuffle through the stack of letters for the week. It’s not a very sizable stack, but that’s because it’s still the beginning of the year, and no one’s really figured out how the whole advice column thing works yet. Unlike you, a seasoned expert. It’s most of the same stuff, first and second years fretting over the workload and not knowing how to make friends or how to handle the professors. Typical beginning-of-the-year worries. You’ll know how to answer these with ease.

Yuju peers over to read some of the ones you’ve discarded, lying scattered on the deep mahogany of the table. She says it’s because sometimes she can offer valuable and indispensable advice, but you know it’s just because she’s nosy as hell and can’t help but look into other people’s business, even if they are anonymous.

“Wish I had this sort of thing when I was a baby first year,” she comments to herself. “Instead I just turned to you for all of my daily inconveniences.”

“Yeah, which is exactly why I started this column,” you remind her, memories of her flopping onto her bed in the dorm and groaning about all of her problems flickering through your mind. You’d never tell Yuju this, but your late night chats became the reason you approached the head of the school newspaper in your third year with a suggestion for an advice column.

You fish through the pockets of your robe, hunting for a spare pen so you can begin to formulate some responses when you hear loud stomping and obnoxious laughter coming from the entrance of the Great Hall. Glancing over from where you’re seated at the Slytherin table with Yuju by your side, you spot four boys clambering into the Great Hall, one with a particularly familiar tuft of bouncy, brown hair.

“Speaking of daily inconveniences,” you say sarcastically, eyes rolling like the magical night sky above your heads is mocking you. You don’t think you’ve done anything mean recently, so you can’t possibly imagine why karma has it out for you.

Except maybe it doesn’t matter, because Jeon Jungkook defies all laws of the universe and its natural system of rewards for good deeds and punishments for bad ones. All so he can exist in this very timeline, in this very location, in this very lifetime. Which so happens to perfectly coincide with your own.

Jeon Jungkook saunters into the Great Hall, footsteps heavy and jarring, just so he can remind everyone that he’s made an appearance. He laughs like a roar of thunder, forceful and purposefully. Exists obnoxiously, without regrets or second guesses.

“Maybe if you keep your head down and put your robe over yourself he won’t notice you—no, he’s coming over here.” Yuju says, making you nearly slam your head on the table in exasperation. “I tried,” she tells you helpfully, not sounding like she tried very much at all.

“Working on next week’s Witches’ & Wizard’s Counsel?” Jungkook asks instead of a hello, like any normal, non-annoying person who’s just trying to make casual conversation and not pointed and directed disturbances would do.

He snatches up one of the pieces of paper spread out on the table before you to inspect it. You reach out to wrestle him for it back, but not only is Jungkook across the table, he is also standing and taller than you anyway. “Hey, this person needs some advice for trying out for their house’s Quidditch team,” he says with a smug grin lacing his features, like he thinks he’s onto something. “Maybe I should give them a few pointers.”

“Give that back, Jeon Jungkook,” you say, reaching over the table with grabby hands to wrestle him for it back. He dodges your nimble yet crab claw-like fingers with ease. “You know that’s private.”

“It’s anonymous!” Jungkook cries defensively, even if he does cave and hand it back. “Besides, you’ll end up publishing it in the newspaper anyway. What’s another person taking a look at it, huh, Pumpkin?”

“Ugh,” you say, tilting your head back in exasperation. You swear, Jeon Jungkook takes off five years of your life just by existing within close proximity of you. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

Jungkook chuckles. “You got to go to Hogsmeade for the very first time independently, nearly bought out Honeydukes’s Pumpkin Pasties stash, and then proceeded to vomit it up on the sidewalk two hours later after how many of them? Nine? Ten?” He asks, goading you on, and like a fool, you engage in it.

“That was four years ago!” You hiss.

“Doesn’t make it any less funny,” Jungkook admits. Next to you, Yuju’s on the verge of breaking out into giggles. “I’ll drop the nickname if you really want me to, Pumpkin, but I think it’s cute. It makes you different.”

“You’re the only person who calls me that,” you groan.

“It could be worse,” Yuju pipes up unhelpfully. “You could have vomited up a bunch of Cockroach Clusters, instead.”

Jungkook chuckles.

“You are not helping!” You glare at Yuju, who merely laughs. Seven years together and she’s never truly grasped the sensation of pure aggravation that you feel whenever a certain brown-haired Ravenclaw is nearby. “Why are you here, Jeon? Besides to give me a headache.”

“Want me to kiss it better?” Jungkook teases. You are on the verge of shoving Yuju’s half-eaten corn on the cob right up his nose. “What, am I not allowed to say hello to some of my favorite Slytherins out of the goodness of my heart?” He places a hand over his chest, mock offended you’d ever take a jab at his not-so-innocent intentions.

You frown. You don’t think Jungkook’s ever done anything out of the pure, unadulterated, so-called goodness of his heart. You should know. You write for the newspaper. There’s always fine print, always provisos and loopholes.

“I just came to check in on you,” he says innocently. You narrow your eyes. “Fine, and to remind you of my undying love.”

“My God,” you say, closing your eyes out of sheer annoyance. “If it doesn’t die soon, I think I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Harsh, pumpkin,” Jungkook says with a pout. “Never met someone so resistant to someone willing to devote their whole life to yours. Thought you were supposed to be all encouraging about love and nostalgia. Seems like your kind of thing.”

“You don’t know what kinds of things are my things,” you tell him defensively. It’s as if he can read you like a fucking board book. Have you always been so transparent? Or is it just him?

“But I want to know.” He winks for good measure. Your brain makes a mental note to steal a few beans from the stash of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans that Yuju keeps hidden in her trunk, so you can vomit later. “Sure you don’t want my help with that Quidditch letter?”

“I’m positive,” you deadpan. “I wouldn’t ask you for help even if Lord Voldemort returned.”

“Good thing he won’t, right?” Jungkook grins, all teeth and crinkled eyes. Someone from the Gryffindor table calls his name. What a goddamn shame your conversation’s been cut short. “I’ll catch you around, Pumpkin,” he says as he begins to bound off, always a fully-charged battery of a human being. “Don’t forget about me, won’t you?”

You couldn’t even if you tried.

Jungkook leaps off to interact with people that don’t see red whenever they speak to him as Yuju mutters something about how much she wants to destroy the Ravenclaw quidditch team this season.

You look down at the letter Jungkook had mindlessly picked up.

Dear Y/N,

I really want to try out for my House’s Quidditch team, but I’m too scared! I know that they’re in need of a Seeker, but I’m Muggleborn and I’ve only ever been on a broom during Flying Class. My friends say that I have a good eye for small things and that I should go for it, but I’m afraid that everyone will laugh at me because I don’t have any experience. I’ve tried reading books and watching other people play, but I don’t think it’s helping. And every time I try to get a broom to practice on the field, I see people who are really good at it, like Jeon Jungkook, and I chicken out. Do you think I’ll ever be as good at it as he is?

Yours Truly, A Seeker Hopeful

You groan. The bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall laughs at you.

Here’s the thing about Jeon Jungkook: he wasn’t always such a nuisance.

Or at least, giving him the benefit of the doubt, you assume he wasn’t always such a nuisance. Whether or not he’s always been this sleazy and unbearable will forever remain a mystery to you, but you can say with certain confidence that ever since you met him in the third year, he’s been nothing but a complete and total bother.

You love your best friend dearly, but Yuju joining the Quidditch team in your third year was the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. Because Quidditch equates to Quidditch friends, and Quidditch friends equates to a certain insufferable Ravenclaw seeker.

The whole point of the formation of the universe is that everything that has ever happened since the very fabric of time began has led up to this moment. Which, in theory, seems pretty goddamn astounding. The universe has twisted, turned, morphed, metamorphosized over the past fourteen billion years just so you could be right here, right now.

Except theory is always more idealized in reality, and there aren’t enough words in the English language to express how overwhelmingly bothered you are by the fact that it took the universe fourteen billion years, fourteen billion goddamn years, for you to end up next to Jeon Jungkook.

But hey, maybe Jeon Jungkook wasn’t always such a nuisance.

“Have you guys noticed something different about Hufflepuff this year?” Yeeun asks one Thursday night as you’re gathered in the Slytherin common room. She’s letting Yuju give her a haircut, sitting patiently on a wooden stool as Yuju flitters and flutters about her, the pair of scissors in her hand leaving little paths of blonde hair in their wake. “They’re getting more aggressive.”

“Aggressive how?” Yuju asks. Her eyes widen when the scissors move a bit too quickly, chopping off more hair than they can chew. Yuju glares at you—keep your mouth shut. Hair grows back.

“Not like, violent aggressive. But Quidditch season started like, a week ago and yesterday I was eating my lunch in the Great Hall when a herd of Puffs wearing full Puff memorabilia—scarves and everything—stormed in and screamed, ‘WE’LL HUFF, AND WE’LL PUFF, AND WE’LL BLOW YOU OFF YOUR BROOMS!’ And quite frankly, it was so much Puff Pride that I was actually scared,” Yeeun recalls.

Yuju chuckles to herself, shaking her head. “I guess we’ll just have to prove them wrong, eh? Next time we play Puff, I’ll make sure that they don’t get a single Quaffle through the hoops.”

“You better,” Yeeun huffs.

“You gonna watch?” Yuju asks. “It’s your duty as a rising seventh-year. Can’t believe you’re gonna be seventeen next year, huh?”

“Can’t believe you guys are graduating this year,” Yeeun says in response, frown lacing her features. You have to agree with her—though you only know Yeeun from house activities, she’s definitely become one of your favorite people. Alongside Yuju, of course.

The chatter continues as Yuju dutifully snips away at Yeeun’s hair, making sure it’s just above shoulder-length like Yeeun likes it. You filter through the letters you received for the weekly column, still stacked neatly wrapped up in tweed—the Great Hall was serving tomato soup for dinner, otherwise you would have read through them all during supper, beginning to narrow down the small pile to the three or four you’ll keep for the newspaper.

“Hey! Bambi’s sent another one,” you exclaim happily, recognizing the scrawl of Dear Y/N instantly, always so distinct. Or maybe that’s because Bambi’s been sending you letters since the beginning of your sixth year, so you’d be a fool not to recognize his handwriting, or at least the way he writes Dear Y/N, by now.

Yuju grunts in acknowledgement of your exclamation at the same time that Yeeun, baby, sixth-year, pureblood Yeeun says, “What’s a Bambi?”

“Oh, the name of a character from an old Muggle film,” you explain, knowing that any more technicalities will confuse her. “He’s one of the regulars I get for my column. He’s been sending me nice letters ever since the beginning of last year.”

“Aw, maybe he’s got a crush on you!” Yeeun immediately exclaims, making Yuju jerk away from her hair sharply, on the verge of bursting into laughter.

You shake your head. “I doubt it, since anonymity isn’t the best way to confess feelings. But he’s sweet and sometimes won’t even ask me for advice—just sends me a note telling me that I’m working hard for the column and doing a good job. Little pick-me-ups, things like that. It’s really nice of him, actually. I don’t normally get thanked for my advice column.”

“That’s bullshit,” Yeeun grumbles. “You deserve every newspaper award in the world for all the work you put into that thing.”

“Everyone else who contributes to the newspaper works just as hard as I do,” you remind her. You glance down at Bambi’s note, neat cursive handwriting resting gently on the paper, like it’ll fly away like dandelion wisps if you blow at it. “But it is nice to get stuff from him, sometimes.”

“Y/N likes this anonymous Bambi more than she likes us,” Yuju jokes to Yeeun, finishing up the final touches. Yeeun’s hair, as always, looks wonderful. Yuju has a talent for this kind of thing. She motions to the paper in your hand. “What’s it say?”

Dear Y/N,

Over the past couple of weeks I have come to a life-ruining, world-ending, universe-collapsing conclusion: I have a crush. I mean, I suppose I’ve had this crush for a while now, but I only just recently realized it. Anyway, to put it into less melodramatic terms, there’s this girl that I really like. Like, stupid like. It’s kind of ridiculous. All of my friends tease me about it. But I just think that she’s funny and beautiful and creative and witty and a long list of other positive adjectives. Only problem is (here’s the earth-shattering part): I have no idea how to tell her. And I’m afraid that it might just slip out accidentally and then my chance for a grand romantic gesture will be ruined. Any suggestions?

Yours truly, Bambi

“Aw, he’s got a crush!” You exclaim happily, fawning over his words.

“Lemme see,” Yuju demands, making grabby hands for the paper. You hand it over to her, and she inspects it like a textbook passage she doesn’t understand and has to reread. “Um, if you ask me, personally, this is less like a crush and more like complete infatuation. Just saying.”

“And?” You ask defensively.

“You have never been in a relationship before,” Yuju says, looking you dead in the eyes with her big brown ones. She punctuates each word with a head jerk for emphasis.

“So what? He’s asking me for advice on a school crush. This is Hogwarts—relationships built here aren’t meant to last. We’re teenagers. We don’t know what real love is.”

Yuju rolls her eyes as she hands Yeeun a mirror for her to see her new haircut. “But from the looks of it, it sounds like he does. Maybe it is just a schoolboy crush, but Bambi, whoever the hell he is, seems pretty dedicated to it. You ever thought about that?”

You pout. This conversation is going nowhere, and by going nowhere, you mean quickly morphing into reasonable yet angry comments directed at you.

Yuju sighs, voice getting softer. She can never stay mad at you for long. “You should stop being so jaded all of the time. You’re an advice columnist, for God’s sake, Y/N. Look on the bright side.” Yeeun beams a thank you at Yuju for her haircut. “Sometimes, love lasts.”

Quidditch has never been your thing. Activities that involve flying have never been your thing. The idea of whizzing around a field fifty feet in the air as bugs fly into your face while sitting on a broomstick makes all parts of you uncomfortable, from your brain to your… lower regions.

Long story short, athletic sports that don’t involve two feet almost always on the ground aren’t really your thing. But you’ll be damned if you don’t support your best friend and your house until the day you perish.

Which is exactly why you’re sitting in the bleachers of the Quidditch field in the middle of a very strangely warm November afternoon, the sun beating down on your black robes, absorbing as much heat as physically possible. Despite it being near winter, the effects of Muggle-made (and wizard-made, but wizards don’t like taking blame for the slow heat death of the only inhabitable planet within the known parameters of space) climate change reign, and you shrug off your heavy robes to leave only your undershirt and tie on within five minutes of being outside.

Yuju’s dragged you out to one of her informal, house-inclusive Quidditch get-togethers (not serious enough to be a practice, but not light enough to be deigned hanging out) under the guise of moral support, leaving you sat pathetically on the bleachers as your best friend and her Quidditch buddies zip around above you. They’re tossing around the Quaffle like a strange, very mobile game of Hot Potato.

It’s the perfect time for you to get your homework done, the ambient sounds of “Hey, Clark, think fast!” and “You almost hit my goddamn nose!” the optimal background noise for peak productivity. And you’d never admit it to Yuju (because it would mean that you actually enjoy sitting out in the sun being boring), but the empty bleachers make pretty decent tables.

You’re switching back and forth from your completely and utterly incomprehensible arithmancy homework and edits for the newspaper—other sections, of course—when you hear the familiar sound of a broom coming to a halt in front of (or more above) you, the sound cutting right through the air and wind. You have half of a mind to not even look up, suspecting it’s just Yuju to complain about the fifth-year Gryffindor Beaters she hates, when—

“Pumpkin, come to watch me?”

You should have known better. It’s no surprise that Jeon Jungkook’s here today—he’d never pass up the opportunity to flaunt his Quidditch skills. Your presence is just a bonus.

“Yes, Jungkook,” you deadpan. A frown etches itself across your lips, partially because of the person you’re talking to, and partially because said person is blocking your view of the sun, which you would otherwise stare into so as to never have to lay eyes on Jeon Jungkook again. “Out of the dozen or so people on that field, one of whom being my best friend, you are the person I’m here to watch.”

Jungkook grins, and though his face is shadowed, the rays of the sun cast some sort of deceivingly angelic glow around his figure. “Always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

“Yeah, no one I’d rather knock off their broom than you,” you mutter to yourself, just loud enough for Jungkook to hear. You’re not sure if he’s still paying attention, but if he is, he doesn’t say anything.

“Jeon! Stop schmoozing and get over here!”

Both you and Jungkook turn to the source of the voice, another one of the Ravenclaws out at practice who’s waiting atop their broom for Jungkook to get off his ass and do what he came here to do.

Jungkook grins guiltily. “Looks like they need me, pumpkin. Watch this next trick, it’s for you!”

Before you have the chance to remind Jungkook of how little you care for him and his tricks, he flies off, leaving an empty pathway of air in his wake. You don’t know what he’s got up his sleep, but if it’s anything like the other tricks he’s pulled over the five years that you’ve known him, you know better than to wait and find out.

Someone else comes to a halt beside you. It’s Yuju. “What was Jeon Jungkook doing talking to you?”

You frown. “What do you think?”

Yuju chuckles. “Right. I forgot he was going to be here. You didn’t have to stay if you knew he was here, you know.”

“You kidding? Of course I’m gonna come and cheer on my best friend,” you say, shrugging it off. Yuju’s worth the suffering that Quidditch brings. “Go Yuju!”

“You’re the best,” Yuju says with a grin. You shrug. You know you are.

“Hey, pumpkin! Check this out!”

Jeon Jungkook calls your name at the perfect time—just enough time for you to actually follow his directions and look towards him. Someone on the far side of the field tosses a small, non-active Snitch in your general direction, and Jungkook tears after it, reaching the puny thing in just under a couple of seconds, a quick flip of his broom as he catches it in his right hand. You don’t have enough time—or willpower, for that matter—to look away before he’s turning his head to you, blowing you an obnoxious kiss just for good measure.

“Christ,” Yuju snorts from next to you. “He’ll never give up, will he?”

You sigh. Maybe in your dreams, he might.

Dear Y/N,

Okay, maybe I should give you a bit more context to the aforementioned life-shattering crush I seem to have developed. We do actually know each other—I’m not just sadly pining after her from a distance—but we’re not exactly friends. Maybe acquaintances at best, but even that term might be pushing it. I’m just not sure how to tell her how I feel without coming off too strong, or scaring her. Even if she doesn’t feel the same, that’s the last thing I’d want. What should I do?

Yours truly, Bambi

Dear Bambi,

Hey, at least you both know each other! That’s a step in the right direction. I don’t know if this is universal, or if I’m the only one who thinks it’s decent advice, but maybe you should try getting to know her as a friend before you dive into the romantic stuff. That way, she’ll feel more comfortable around you and the air will be less awkward in general. If she’s not interested in just getting to know you better, then you’ll probably have a pretty good measure of whether or not she might feel the same romantically. Good luck!

Yours truly, Y/N

“Was Arithmancy homework always this difficult?” Yeeun asks, madly flipping through the textbook in front of her. It’s a small, old thing, notes scribbled in the margins from the three older brothers she has that took the course before her, passed down their sage wisdom and little doodles to her in the form of all of their beat-up textbooks. “I have no idea what’s happening in class right now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, dipping your quill into the small blue jar of ink at the edge of the library table you’re seated at, charmed to refill automatically. “It gets worse.”

Yeeun groans. She takes one more look at the work in front of her and begins to pack up her belongings.

“Hey, where you going?” You ask. “You said you had the afternoon free to study.”

“I do. But I’m on the verge of breaking down because I don’t understand anything so I’m going to go talk to the Professor to see if he can help me and if he can’t, then I will be hiding in the Potions closet crying. So you’ll know where I am,” Yeeun says as calmly as she can muster. She looks perfectly fine on the outside, always so put-together and polished, but after knowing her for so long, you know that if you just tapped on her shoulder her entire façade would fall to the floor and shatter into a million pieces. So you don’t push it.

“Okay,” you tell her. “Be safe. Don’t drink anything in the Potions closet because that might make you worse at Arithmancy.”

“Got it,” Yeeun says, shooting you a finger gun before heading out of the library.

You’re left in silence, struggling to draft an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts which is due at the end of the week, when someone else plops down in Yeeun’s place.

Much to your surprise, it’s Jungkook. And it doesn’t look like he’s here to bother you—or at least, that’s what you hope, considering he’s got his own schoolwork with him, spreading out comfortably as he begins to work, practically ignorant of your presence.

Now that you think about it, this is how it should have always been. The two of you, coexisting comfortably and without disturbances, keeping to yourselves and only talking if necessary. But now that Jungkook’s here, right in front of you, and he’s not saying a word, it leaves you with a prickle on your skin. A sense of peculiarity, because in the five years you’ve known him Jungkook has never been one to sit down and stay quiet.

“Can I help you with something?” You blurt, unable to keep your mouth shut when Jungkook’s sitting right there.

He looks up at you, a knowing glint in his eye, and smiles. “No. Just doing my work, pumpkin.”

It’s aggravating how calm he is. He knows he’s being just annoying enough to get under your skin, but you can’t really shout at him without seeming like the villain.

He’s always one step ahead of you.

“Well,” you stammer, watching as his lips curve upwards into a smirk, “can you do your work somewhere else? Please?”

“Why?” Jungkook pushes. “I’m being quiet. I’m keeping to myself. What’s the harm?”

You sneer, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “Are you sure that I can’t help you with anything?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Well, if you must ask, I was wondering if you were up for studying together sometime. Since you haven’t magicked me out of my seat, I’m assuming you don’t mind me actually being here.”

You sputter, trying to defend yourself. Of course you mind him being here. You mind him being within a twenty-feet radius of you. You were only asking because it’s very unlikely that Jeon Jungkook would just plop down in the seat across from you in the library, pull out his books, and begin to study without a single word. Especially if he was across from you. “W—Well, why on earth would I study with you anyway? What am I getting out of it?”

Jungkook tsks. “You know, Pumpkin, sometimes people do things out of the good of their hearts. Do you really need a reason to study with me, a poor Ravenclaw who’s just trying to graduate?”

You glare at him.

“Alright, alright,” Jungkook caves. “I need help in Transfiguration and I hear that you’re pretty good at it. There.”

“What am I getting out of it?”

“What, you won’t just do this for me? I’m wounded, Pumpkin.”

Another glare.

“Fine,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. “A little bird told me that you need a bit of help in Defense, so I figured we could help tutor each other. You know, like one of those symbiotic relationships.”

“That snake,” you mutter under your breath. How could Yuju tell Jeon Jungkook, of all people, that you’re struggling in Defense Against the Dark Arts? How could she betray you like that?

“So, whaddaya say?” Jungkook asks, stretching a hand out across the table. “You in?”

You sigh. Spending more time than absolutely necessary with Jeon Jungkook sounds like your own personal hell, but you suppose it can’t all be bad. After all, he’ll be at your mercy just as much as you’ll be at his, seeing as you both need help in your respective classes. So maybe there is a silver lining, after all.

You meet his eyes directly, dark and stormy and certain. “I’m in.”

Against all odds and several vows you had made yourself over the years, studying with Jungkook becomes somewhat of a normal thing. You work out a schedule—Wednesdays at four, the only day he doesn’t have Quidditch practice and one of the few days of the week you’re not fretting over the newspaper issue—and follow it dutifully, weeks passing with the two of you meeting up at the same table in the library, going over the lessons of the week and working out anything you missed.

It’s strange, having a faithful and consistent arrangement with someone you, at one point, wouldn’t be caught dead spending time with. And the strangest part of it all is that slowly, some part of you, some crevice deep within your bones and your soul and your being, actually begins to look forward to Wednesdays at four, where Jungkook will be arriving at your usual table, unpacking his belongings with a soft smile on his face, unaware he’s being watched.

That’s the thing you’ve come to realize. You’ve only ever known Jungkook when he’s knows he’s center stage, when he knows that there are eyes on him. Every time you’ve been around him prior to this, he’s been in the spotlight, got someone who’s paying attention to him. And suddenly, you’re catching him whistling to himself as he takes notes from his Transfiguration textbook and sneezing when the feathers of his quill brush against his nose accidentally and doing little dances when he gets a question right. Suddenly, he’s existing in the background, by himself, without the hard gazes of the people around him. And it’s different.

Or maybe it’s always been like this. You’ve just never had the luxury of witnessing it.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, tapping your parchment with his quill to get your attention. “Does this make sense to you? I don’t get it.”

He flips around his textbook and points to a passage, brows furrowed as he tries to read it again, hoping maybe the words will stick this time. You squint slightly—out of habit—as you go over the text, the words slowly processing.

“Oh, yeah,” you say, nodding. Jungkook looks up at you like you just saved his life. “It’s just explaining the technicalities of the difference between conjuring charms and traditional conjuring transfigurations. See, charms will enhance an already-existing object, but conjuring transfigurations create something new entirely. But it’s kind of confusing, I have to admit, since both exist in their own realm of magical spells.”

“So conjuring charms create something in addition to something else, but conjuring transfigurations just make something new, then?” Jungkook asks for clarification.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, alright,” Jungkook says with a dutiful nod, quickly scribbling it down in his notes. “You make it so much easier than this damn textbook.” He grins honestly, earnestly, as he goes back to reading the rest of the chapter, leaving you to your own devices once more. These days, it’s not so much direct tutoring as it is studying together.

Against all odds, Jeon Jungkook has become someone you actually don’t dread being around. In moments like these, he is soft-spoken, gentle, and sincere.

It’s strange. Has it always been like this?

Dear Y/N,

Good news: I think we’re friends. Or at least, I think we’re friends. I’m not sure about her, but I’d like to think she feels the same way. Except now, the problem is that because we’re friends, I’m getting more and more nervous! I swear, every time I’m around her my hands get all clammy and sweaty and disgusting because I’m scared that if I do end up confessing and she doesn’t feel that way, we’ll lose what we already have. But do we even have anything in the first place? I’m not even sure if she thinks we’re friends! What now?

Yours truly, A Slightly-Panicked Bambi

Dear A Slightly-Panicked Bambi,

Don’t worry! Chances are that if you think you’re friends, she probably thinks that you’re friends as well, which is a great step in the right direction. I’d say that now you’ve established yourselves as friends, your next move is to slowly reveal your romantic intentions. Don’t pile them on her all at once because it might be too overwhelming. Try subtly incorporating romantic gestures into your relationship as it is now, like compliments and really, really lowkey flirts, to see if she picks up on the message. See where that takes you!

Yours truly, Y/N

It’s snowing.

It’s been snowing, really, for the past week now. It was a couple centimeters on one day and a few more on another day but this weekend has been the full force of it, a steady blanket of white covering the grounds.

But that doesn’t mean the seventh year Hogsmeade trip is cancelled. As Yuju likes to put it, Hogwarts doesn’t believe in rainchecks. Besides, Hogsmeade always looks prettier in the snow, when the flakes leave a soft pillow on the sloped rooftops of the buildings and Honeydukes brings out its seasonal treats, sugared snowflakes and peppermint toffee lining the windowsill. The peppermint toffee is a favorite of both yours and Yuju’s, but you know where your true loyalties lie (Pumpkin Pasties, of course).

“Thank God it’s the beginning of the semester otherwise I would be so stressed right now,” Yuju says happily as you walk along the pavement, feeling the wet cold of snowflakes falling onto your nose, your ears, and your fingertips. “Oh! Hey!”

Your best friend starts waving wildly at a small group of students standing outside of The Three Broomsticks. Through the snow, you recognize them as some of Yuju’s Quidditch buddies.

“Mind if we hang out with them?” Yuju asks, knowing that sometimes you like to keep your Hogsmeade trips an exclusive between the two of you.

“The more the merrier, right?” You say in response, letting yourself be dragged over to where they’re waiting. It’s two Gryffindors, one Hufflepuff, and two Ravenclaws, one of whom is barely recognizable under the thick blue scarf he’s got wrapped around the lower half of his head and the beanie covering his brunette hair.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” he says, voice muffled through the knit of his scarf. “Didn’t know you’d be joining us.”

“Well, here I am,” you say. “You know I’m only here for Yuju, right?”

Jungkook chuckles, and you watch as the air he breathes out through his nose materializes into fog from the cold. “Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

You gasp, smacking his arm. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

Jungkook laughs, no time to respond before your group is trotting off, everyone shouting out random sights to see, like the Shrieking Shack or Zonko’s, the snow making everyone’s hearts a little colder, a little softer, and a little lighter.

You bounce around, making stops at all of your favorite locations around the area, including The Three Broomsticks for a round of celebratory Butterbeer, marking your final year at Hogwarts and praying that you’ll all graduate.

“Okay, sue me, but hot apple cider is way better than Butterbeer,” Jungkook says loudly, a moustache of Butterbeer foam decorating his mouth. His words spark an eruption of indignant exclamations, Muggleborns and purebloods alike insisting that Jungkook’s tastebuds are incorrect and have to be clinically checked. Because he is wrong.

Except he isn’t, and hot apple cider on a cold day by a lit fireplace is better than lukewarm Butterbeer, or even hot Butterbeer, any day.

“This might be the only thing we ever agree on, but you’re right,” you mutter to him, leaning over to whisper it in his ear.

Jungkook grins proudly.

Later that day finds you in Honeydukes, which is objectively the best location in all of Hogsmeade, no arguments. What more could you want out of a place other than constant, never-ending sweets? Nothing. Every time you visit Hogsmeade you make sure to drop by Honeydukes, say hello to the kind old lady behind the counter (who knows you by name), and buy a couple of your favorite items.

“I’m so tempted to get like, five slices of the lemon merengue pie,” Yuju says with a sigh, eyeing the display case longingly.

“Aren’t you lactose intolerant?” You say, more of a reminder than a question.

“And what about it?” Yuju says, almost like a challenge, before marching up to the register, already fishing through her pockets for her purse.

Your eyes wander back to the glass case, thinking that maybe, after five years of coming to Hogsmeade, you should branch out and not get the exact same thing that you get every time you come to Honeydukes (the aforementioned Pumpkin Pasties). The peppermint toffee looks delicious, and even though you’ve never tried them before, Yeeun always fawns over the Fizzing Whizbees—says it’s a better way to levitate than trying to cast Wingardium Leviosa on yourself. Chocolate Frogs are a classic you very rarely indulge yourself in, and you could never go wrong with Cauldron Cakes—

“Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, giving you a small shove as he arrives next to you with a bag from Honeydukes, taped shut. His scarf has been pulled down below his chin, revealing his bright red nose from the sudden change in temperature from the chilly outside to the heated store. “Here.”

You narrow your eyes. “If this is a cockroach cluster I’m going to sock you in the face.”

“Just open it,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes.

You do as you’re instructed, albeit hesitantly, only to find three neatly-wrapped Pumpkin Pasties sitting at the bottom of the Honeydukes branded paper bag, waiting to be devoured.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you say softly, unable to stop the smile that spreads across your face. No one’s ever bought you sweets before. “Here, let me pay you back—”

“No need, Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, placing a cold hand on top of yours to stop you from getting your wallet out. “Consider it a thank you for all the time you spent helping me with Transfiguration.” You nearly shiver at the sensation of his skin meeting yours.

“Really?” You ask. “Well, thank you for thinking of me. I don’t know why you’re being so… nice to me, but it’s a pleasant change.”

Jungkook pouts. “Don’t you remember how I’m madly in love with you?” Of course, the moment you compliment him he turns back into his regular self. You shouldn’t have put it past him. “Had to honor your nickname, didn’t I?”

“Hey, do you want one?” You ask, figuring that it’s only right he gets to eat one of the treats he paid for.

“Sure,” Jungkook says happily, letting you pull one of the neatly packaged desserts out of the bag and place it in his hand. “Promise me you won’t throw up this one this time?”

For once, the memory of you vomiting up the contents of your stomach into a trashcan outside of Honeydukes doesn’t make you want to cringe. Instead, you laugh, recalling it with fondness as you and Jungkook clink together your Pumpkin Pasties like goblets filled with wine.

You giggle. “Don’t hold me to that.”

Thursday night finds you right where you always are, but with a new face across from you. Jungkook’s taken it upon himself to add onto your Wednesday evening study sessions, insisting he accompany you to dinner when you’re finished, and even on the next day as well, sometimes. You keep telling yourself that it’s because you’re best friends with Yuju, who knew Jungkook first through Quidditch. Because it’s highly improbable that Jungkook would want to join in on your Great Hall dinners just for you. Right?

“When’s the mail getting here?” Yuju huffs, poking at her half-eaten bowl of peas. “Dog’s the only one I know who’d actually want to finish my lukewarm buttered peas.”

“You know that the butter makes him throw up, Yuju,” you berate her. “Feed him something else. Preferably the food that I buy him that is meant for owls to consume.”

“But what else am I supposed to do with my peas? I don’t want to just leave them. That’s a waste,” Yuju exclaims.

“I’ll have ‘em,” Jungkook offers up. That’s one bonus of his sudden appearance at your dinner table—he’ll eat anything you won’t, like a food vacuum cleaner. “I love vegetables.”

Yuju looks hesitant. “I think I’ll just let Dog throw up.”

“Hey!” You shout at her.

Speaking of Dog, the mail begins to filter in, dozens of owls entering the Great Hall with packages hanging from their talons on their beaks, to be dropped off at their owners’ tables, right in front of their eyes. In the middle of the year, not many students are getting mail, but just like every other week, Dog appears faithfully to deliver your letters for the week.

“Is this the stuff for the Witches’ and Wizards’ Counsel?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of chicken.

“Yeah,” you tell him, rubbing the side of Dog’s head as a thank you. “Oh, it’s a pretty small stack this week.”

“Guess no one’s having troubles this time of year,” Yuju comments, already beginning to spoon-feed Dog her peas. At this point, you don’t even care if Dog throws up. As long as he does it in the owlery, it won’t greatly inconvenience you.

You unwrap the tweed, letting it fall to the floor for one of the cats that roam the hallways of Hogwarts to play with, and begin to shuffle through the few letters that people sent you. It’s just enough for a full issue for the newspaper, thank God. “Hey, look. Bambi’s sent another one.”

Jungkook drops his fork onto his plate, the metal making a loud, disruptive clanking sound as it hits the glass. You, Yuju, and Dog, all turn to him, watching as he smiles guiltily, slowly picking up his fork and pretending that his clumsiness never happened.

“What’s this one about?” Yuju asks, hissing at Dog when he accidentally bites her finger.

“Lemme see,” you say, making to open the envelope.

“Who’s—Who’s Bambi?” Jungkook asks, mouth full. Dog seems to have notice the plethora of food still left on Jungkook’s plate, and is slowly making his way over to peck at Jungkook’s dinner rather than Yuju’s.

“Oh, just this guy who’s been sending me letters since the beginning of sixth year,” you muse happily. Jungkook nods, mumbling something unintelligible over his mouthful of food. “Sometimes he asks for advice but sometimes he just sends me kind words, which is honestly so thoughtful of him.”

“That’s nice,” Jungkook seems to say, though his words are quiet and muffled.

“And recently he’s been coming to me with questions about a girl that he likes and I just wish that I could give him better advice, you know?” You say, watching as Dog marches over to Jungkook, happily chewing on a piece of chicken he’s stolen from Jungkook’s plate, cooing contentedly. “Like, I feel like the advice I’m giving him on how to confess to this girl is the just what I would want if I was the girl, but obviously that’s not universal. Or at least, I don’t think it is. I don’t know. He’s always been so nice to me and I wish that I could give him better advice than what I’m giving him now.”

Jungkook nods again as acknowledgement that he’s still listening, though his eyes are trained on his plate as his hand instinctively comes up to rub at Dog.

Which strikes you as odd, because Dog doesn’t really cozy up to strangers, even if he will pick food off of their plates. He’s a relatively amicable owl—which is why he’s good for the your advice column, because he won’t bite at anybody’s fingers when they drop off their letters—but he won’t let just anyone pet him like Jungkook does. Like Jungkook is.

“Um,” you say, getting Jungkook’s attention. “Do you and Dog… know each other?” You ask, watching in some sort of trance as Jungkook scratches at Dog’s neck, making him coo happily.

“Me?” Jungkook asks, nearly sputtering. “No,” he says immediately. “I didn’t even know he was named Dog until today. Which, clever name, by the way. Why? Is he not normally, uh, like this?”

“No,” you say, suspiciously but of no one in particular. More just of the situation in general. “He doesn’t normally accept pets from strangers.”

Jungkook smiles down at Dog, who looks plenty happy to be receiving a good petting, regardless of the hand that’s giving it to him. “Guess I’m just different, then.”

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. You reach your fingers out to see if Dog will return to you, his rightful owner, but he’s firm in his will to stay right where Jungkook can rub him. “I guess so.”

Not even animals are immune to the bewitching charms of a certain Jeon Jungkook.

Dear Y/N,

Okay, maybe it’s just because I’m clueless but I’m not really sure if she’s picking up what I’m putting down, if you know what I mean. Maybe she is and I just haven’t noticed, but as far as I’m aware, we’re still just friends. Which is fine, and I’ll totally accept that without complaining, but I haven’t even told her how I feel. Do you think I should just go for it? I mean, I don’t know what else to do at this point. Honestly, I feel like I just need to come clean and deal with the consequences in an appropriate and relaxed manner. She probably doesn’t even feel the same, but that’s okay. As long as I try, right?

Yours truly, A Very Fretful Bambi

Dear A Very Fretful Bambi,

At this point, I think that you can take matters into your own hands. If you want to confess to her, I’d say go for it! You’ve made your intentions fairly clear at this point. And it’s okay if she doesn’t feel the same—you guys are still friends, after all! I don’t know you personally, but you seem like a confident, strong-willed person and if you feel ready, then there’s no reason not to tell her. The worst she can do is say no, right? But, if you’re as kind as you’ve made yourself out to be since you first began to message me, then I don’t think she will. Good luck!

Yours truly, Y/N

The halls of the castle are eerily quiet at this hour. The moon shines through the big glass windows that line the corridors, casting its pale white light along the frescos that decorate the walls. You’ve been down this path plenty of times before, plenty of sleepless nights and tired eyes behind you, behind your seven years here. By now, you could walk this road in your sleep. You bet you have.

The astronomy tower is the most beautiful place in all of Hogwarts. Sure, students may insist that the ceiling of the Great Hall is the most picturesque, or their common rooms are the most homey, but the grounds are the most breathtaking, but all of those pale in comparison to the glass ceiling of the astronomy tower, showered in stars and planets above on a clear night, like your very own planetarium. Pale in comparison to the telescope you look through during class, catching glimpses of faraway galaxies that light up their own little corners of the universe.

It’s a wondrous place to be, the astronomy tower on a clear night, where you can empty your thoughts into the world and let the stars see inside your mind, watch as they twinkle their responses. And so, it’s no wonder that you most often find yourself here when the comfort of your dormitory isn’t enough, when sleep just won’t overtake you like it does most other nights.

Only, this time, when you open the door, the shadow of someone sitting on the steps that look out onto the glass balcony is waiting for you.

“Hello?” You ask into the silence, hearing your voice echo along the walls.

The shadow turns, and suddenly the side of Jungkook’s face is bathed in the light from the moon and the stars, half of his profile hidden from view and the other basking in a white, nightly glow. It’s stunning.

“Pumpkin?” He asks in response.

“What are you doing up here?” You ask, walking over to him. He’s curled up on the steps, leaning against one of the pillars with his knees pulled up to his chest, like a baby.

“’M just thinking, Pumpkin,” Jungkook muses. “Care to join me?”

Your legs move before your brain does, making to sit down next to him, when you falter, thinking that if Jungkook’s going to blab to you at two in the morning on a spring night, you’d rather just go back to your common room and do your thinking there. That’s the beauty of thinking—it’s in silence.

“I mean, I don’t really want to disturb you, you know,” you say tentatively, backing up.

“Aw, please?” Jungkook asks, pushing his lip out into a pout as he blinks up at you. In the moonlight, in the starlight, in the light of the faraway galaxies and planets and supernovas, Jungkook’s eyes look like they’re swimming in stars. “It’s lonely up here.”

And maybe it’s your love for the astronomy tower that keeps you there, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you or the way he’s curled up like a pillbug as he watches the stars slowly shift across the sky, but you take your seat next to him, a good bit of distance between the two of you as you slowly make yourself comfortable, watching out onto the glass balcony at the quiet of the world beneath you.

There aren’t enough words in the English language to describe what this feels like. To describe how, after years of toil and trouble, years of back-and-forth teasing and insults, you and Jungkook have found yourself sitting together in the dim light of the astronomy tower late one weekday night at the end of your final year of school, watching the stars together. It’s almost surreal, in a way. That every moment in the universe has led up to this. Up to you being here.

Never have you spent so much time together in silence.

Jungkook seems to shimmer in the moonlight. Perhaps it’s just because the moonlight bathes everyone in a heavenly glimmer, but Jungkook looks particularly dazzling, like the very fabric of his bones were made of stardust. Strange. You’d never felt particularly attracted to him, not when his big mouth and obnoxious personality overshadowed his looks, but you’ve never been one to deny his timelessness. He’s always been handsome—his looks will never go out of style. So maybe that’s why, when he sits beneath the moon and the stars, he glows. Because the moon knows that Jungkook can only get prettier.

“Pumpkin,” Jungkook says, breaking the silence with nothing more than a whisper. “I’ve got a question.”

“What?”

“Do you ever think that maybe, with certain things, you should just give up? Because you don’t know if you’ll ever get what you really want?”

“What?” You ask again, eyes wide open as you look at him. “You? Giving up? What alternate universe is this?”

Jungkook laughs, but it’s soft and half-hearted. “I don’t know. I’m just—I’m not sure if this thing that I’m trying to do is going to work out, you know?”

In the five years you have known Jungkook, as a student, as a Quidditch player, and even, dare you say, a friend, never have you imagined him being one to give up.

“Okay,” you say, “I know that maybe right now, the outlook isn’t looking promising. But you should never give up, especially if you haven’t gotten an outright no. If you don’t know for certain the future of your situation, then why should you stop working for the future that you want? You’re Jeon Jungkook, you don’t give up on anything. You work super hard for your grades and when you don’t understand something in Transfiguration you work at it until you do, and you spend hours on the Quidditch field trying to perfect ur eyesight to catch the Snitch even though there’s no magical spell for 20/20 vision, and you work your hardest and do your best and thats why you’re good at school and amazing at Quidditch and—”

“You think I’m amazing at Quidditch?”

You look over at Jungkook to see that he’s closed the gap between the two of you, his shoulder coming to rest right next to yours, and he’s looking at you with a misty haze in his eyes, the stars above you clouded and foggy in his dark irises. But he’s grinning, and grinning wide, because you just gave this totally unwarranted pep talk to him and told him he was amazing at Quidditch and a great student and everything else that you said, and Oh, God.

“Yeah…” You say hesitantly, “but don’t get a big head, asshole.”

“Believe me,” Jungkook says with a scoff, “the only big parts about me are my love for you.” You narrow your eyes. “That, and one other thing.”

You gasp in shock, totally unsurprised yet caught off guard nonetheless by his words, giving him a small shove against the staircase. But you’re not scowling, or frowning, or glaring at him. You’re laughing, because suddenly Jeon Jungkook is not just amazing at Quidditch, and a great student. He’s wonderful. In every way he is, and it might just be the way the moon illuminates him ever so perfectly that’s making you feel this way, but maybe this has been a long time coming.

Here’s the thing about Jeon Jungkook: he wasn’t always such a nuisance.

Because when you weren’t watching him, when he was sitting in his dorm room studying, or hiding in the astronomy tower, or wandering through the bookshelves in the library, he was quiet, and beautiful, and looked at the world like it had so much to offer him. When Jeon Jungkook let the world around him exist without him being in the spotlight, he was everything but a nuisance.

And even when he was acting loud, and being big, and teasing you, he wasn’t doing it to hurt. He was doing it because all he could tease you about was how much he loved you, whatever that meant, and how his heart was yours and how if you just opened your eyes you’d see him, and suddenly your vision’s never been clearer and he’s right there, in front of you. And it’s crazy, how these things work. How suddenly, everything’s been flipped on its side because, as it turns out, your heart is his.

How this moment, right here, sitting on the steps in the astronomy tower as the stars twinkle like Christmas lights above you, was fourteen billion years in the making. And the best part? It was worth the wait.

“Come on, hurry up!” Yeeun shouts at you as you’re quickly filing through the letters you received last night. You were too rushed to check them at dinner, what with Yuju on your arm stress-eating because of the Quidditch match she had to compete in the next day, the final one of the season. “I want good seats so we can see Yuju!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you say, quickly tearing open the first envelope so you can give it a quick glance over, planning on writing your responses over the weekend, after the Quidditch Cup. Yeeun’s standing in front of the mirror, trying to fix her Slytherin beanie, alongside the rest of the green and silver memorabilia she’s decked herself out in.

You open the first one and recognize the handwriting instantly, the familiar calligraphy of Dear Y/N, this one looking particularly nice. Like the person writing it had taken their time, done it with purpose.

Dear Y/N,

This may or may not be my last letter, depending on how this goes. But I just wanted you to know that on Friday, I’ll be in the air with the rest of my house, playing our very best game of the season. And I’ll be searching for the Snitch, as I’m supposed to, but above even that, I’ll be looking out for you. Because I love you, and more than anything else, I just wanted you to know that.

P.S.: Feel free not to respond to this one publicly.

Yours truly, Bambi

And the piece of paper drops to the floor, the hard edges of it hitting the hardwood with a soft thud.

Because that letter, and all of the ones coming before it, ever since the beginning of sixth year, could have only been written by one person. Someone who’s in your year, and a seeker for their house’s Quidditch team. And it’s certainly not your team’s seeker, because she’s a girl and also a fifth year. Someone who’s playing in this year’s Quidditch Cup. A Ravenclaw.

Holy shit.

“Come on, slowpoke! We have to go!” Yeeun says excitedly, running over to you and grabbing onto your arm. She pulls you out the door before your brain has a chance to process the information you just learned, the letter you just read. And you spend the entire journey to the bleachers of the Quidditch field in a daze, barely cognizant of the world around you, even as Madam Hooch blows her whistle and begins the game, even as the players whiz around on their brooms above you. Next to you, Yeeun’s screeching, or maybe she isn’t—you can’t really be sure, with the noise in your brain. You think that you wave to Yuju when she passes by your section of the bleachers, winking down at your group, but you’re not sure.

The only thing you remember is seeing Jungkook, in all of his Ravenclaw glory, sitting proudly atop his Firebolt as he darts around the field like a bullet, eyes keenly looking out for the Snitch. You only ever see him play when it’s against Slytherin, but you can say with certainty that in his entire Quidditch career, this is the best he’s ever played. The most he’s dedicated himself to his sport, the hardest he’s ever worked. He flies above the crowd and it’s as if the very fabric of the air is at his beck and call, bends to his will. You don’t need to know much about Quidditch to know that Jungkook is a good player, but this game is better than good. It’s inspiring.

And it pays off, too, because suddenly the commentator is screaming into the microphone that “Jeon Jungkook has caught the Snitch! Ravenclaw wins!” and the entire quarter of Ravenclaws have burst into cheers while the Slytherin quarter begins to sulk, beaten at their chance to win the Quidditch Cup. And Jungkook is coming to a halt in the middle of the field, the golden Snitch, sparkling in the sun, clenched tightly in between his fingers as the rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team crowds around him, chanting “Jeon Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook! Jeon Jungkook!”

Your very last Quidditch Cup as a Hogwarts student and you couldn’t remember more than ten seconds of it if you tried. It passed you by in a blur, a haze of movement and shouts and cheers, and suddenly the bleachers around you are half as filled as they were before, and then a quarter as filled, and then only stragglers are left, gathering their belongings and heading back to the Slytherin common room, where your house is bound to party despite losing, as a celebration of a team that worked as hard as they possibly could.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yeeun says, a hand on your arm. She looks awfully sad, but she’s still got one more year to see Slytherin win the Quidditch Cup. She’ll be alright. “You coming?”

You look out onto the field to see the Ravenclaw Quidditch team pulling each other into a giant hug, everyone patting each other on the backs and cheering after a successful season. And somewhere, in the center of that pile, is a certain brown-haired boy with the stars lacing his eyes.

“In a second, I just have to do something first,” you tell Yeeun, who shrugs in response and flutters off by herself.

You move before your brain can tell you to stop, for fear that if your mind catches up to your legs, you’ll chicken out. Slowly, but certainly, you make your way out of the bleachers and onto the field, feeling so much smaller now that your feet are firmly on the ground, the seats meters above you. You’ve never been onto the actual Quidditch field. Well, until now, at least.

Blinking, you take a deep breath and march right up to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, who have given Jungkook hug after hug for bringing their team and house to victory, and you shout, “JEON JUNGKOOK!”

And Jungkook whips his head around, sweaty and gross and exhausted and beautiful, and he says, “Yes, Pumpkin?”

And you fist your hand into his damp Ravenclaw Quidditch uniform and pull him into a bruising kiss, his lips crashing against yours, still warm from all the blood rushing through his veins. He makes a pleasantly surprised non-sound into your mouth, eyes crinkling up into half moons as he pulls you in, letting his gloved hand wrap around your waist. Behind him, the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team has burst into hoots and hollers, but you barely hear them. All you can see, feel, and imagine, is him.

When you part, he looks dazed, kiss drunk, grinning his lopsided grin. He’s never looked prettier. “What’s all this about, Pumpkin?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer. “I thought you hated me.”

“Wrong again, Jeon,” you tell him instantly, shaking your head. “I don’t hate you. I love you.”

Jungkook can’t help but smile, wide as the goddamn ocean, wrapping his hand around you once more and pulling you back into another kiss, this one even more intense than the last. Your hands come up to rest against his cheeks, blushing red from the adrenaline pumping through him, letting your body melt against the heat of his own. He keeps you close, pulls you in impossibly closer, lets his entire body wrap around yours, lets his lips dance along your own, plush and warm and searing. And Jungkook is beautiful, and wonderful, and perfect, and suddenly, he’s yours.

Dear Y/N,

Okay, this is definitely my final letter. Because I can just talk to you if I actually have a problem. I just wanted to remind you, Thursday-night Y/N, as you read through all of the letters for this week, that I love you. In case you forgot. So, I love you.

Yours truly, Bambi

hard to believe this series is over already!! thank you so much to everyone, from my silent followers to the ones that message me daily, you guys are the reason i did this. the reason i wrote 70k of pure hogwarts aus. for you guys!!! i’m extremely proud of where i’ve come with this series, and it’s crazy that it’s over !

as i previously mentioned, it’s my blog’s 2 year anniversary today, and i suppose it’s only fitting i post a self-indulgent jungkook fic to commemorate it, seeing as that very genre was the first fic i ever posted on this blog. thank you again, to everyone, for these past two years. despite the trash pile that is tumblr, you make this website a wonderful place to be. here’s to many more!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #bts hogwarts au #bts hogwarts #jungkook hogwarts au #w: do you want me (dead?)#w: sorted #OHHHH MY GOD ITS OVER !!!!

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