Chapter Text
Morning sunlight streams in cheerily through the towering glass windows that surround the chamber. Playfully it dances through the air, gliding over the sheen of azure and silver strokes on Minho’s tie and warming up the tips of his sweeping robe. The hall is in full swing as sleepy-eyed students file in from their respective dorms, dragged fresh from their dreamscapes and back to the dull monotony of school. The low buzz of chatter rings a comforting hum in Minho’s ears as he too makes his way to his house’s table, eager to get his share of savoury breakfast food and chase it all down with a refreshing dash of orange juice.
The first thing that greets Minho when he seats himself is a cavernous yawn. He frowns at the perpetrator seated adjacent to him, who ducks behind crafty hands with a sheepish grin.
A snort comes from Minho’s side. “Good morning to you too, hyung.”
“Piss off, Jeongin,” Jisung grumbles back, stabbing his fork into his toast and taking a hearty bite. Jeongin just snickers and shoves a spoonful of cereal into his own mouth, unaffected by the older’s snipe.
Minho raises a single, refined eyebrow as he Wingardium Leviosa s a bowl of ramyeon soup over for himself. “Were you up fiddling with your stupid phone again?”
Jisung draws back with an affronted hand placed exaggeratedly on his chest, but the purse of his lips tells Minho his hypothesis was spot-on. Even though Jisung is a half-blood his Muggle mother leaves his house for long periods at a time to pursue a better-paying job in the city, leaving his wizard father behind to cover the childcare. As an unfortunate side effect, his particular lack of… tact around technological devices came about. “It is not stupid!” he defends ardently, to the amusement of both Muggleborns. “It is a brilliant device that can do a multitude of brilliant things-”
“-and one of those things is play hours of Peppa Pig on steroids?” Jeongin finishes dryly.
Jisung splutters, momentarily at a loss for words, whilst Jeongin cackles over yet another victory, causing Jisung to kick him under the table in retaliation. Minho just smiles into his orange juice. Yet another tiresome day at the Ravenclaw table has begun.
Once the bickering dies down, (“Joke’s on you, I don’t even know what Peppa Pig is!”) Jeongin suddenly pipes up. “Hey Minho-hyung, don’t you have a new student in your grade?”
And just like that, the orange juice suddenly gurgles restlessly in Minho’s gut.
Jisung perks up like an excited puppy at the innocent query, never one to miss out on showing his wide array of knowledge on… current affairs. “Oh yeah! There was a student that transferred from my grade all the way to yours, hyung! Kim… Sangmin or something or other.”
“Kim Seungmin,” Minho corrects with a disapproving groan. “And I had just forgotten all about him until you dimwits brought him up again, so thank you for that.”
Jisung blinks owlishly at Minho, breakfast long forgotten. “What? You can’t be mad at him simply because he’s in the ambitious house, you know the Headmaster doesn’t give out those kind of privileges willy-nilly-”
“It’s not that ,” Minho hisses, running an agitated hand through his jet black hair. “It’s just that they’re all blind as bats to the true nature of that blasted Kim Seungmin! He bats his pretty eyelashes at the entire faculty and suddenly they're falling head over heels for him, meanwhile behind their backs he's walking around and ordering students around like he owns the darn castle! His eyelashes aren't even that pretty!"
Jisung and Jeongin exchange glances, unconvinced. "Right," Jeongin says slowly, as if talking to a child. Minho takes offence to that, but to Jeongin's luck he accepts it gracefully anyway. "And how long has it been since he start lessons with you?"
"Two days," Minho snaps back, irritation cracking sharply like a whip in each syllable. "What of it?"
"I'm just saying," Jisung says, absently tracing the rim of his glass with his fork. "My Herbology partner, Hwang Hyunjin? He's a friend of Kim Seungmin's and he doesn’t have a bad bone in him at all." He frowns. "That being said, word is that they aren't exactly on good terms anymore. Anyways, I don't think it would be wise to jump to conclusions so soon, Minho-hyung." He jabs the fork prongs towards Minho, almost like a fencing attack. "Aha, get it? Wise?"
"Yes, yes, how original," Minho deadpans. "Listen, I don't care whatever this Hyunjin kid has to say about him, it may only have been two days but I've seen enough of Kim Seungmin to last me more than a lifetime. I bet he didn't earn his way up to my grade, there is absolutely no way someone can cram a whole year's worth of content perfectly into their memory lobe within the span of a month ." ("Once again, no idea what you're talking about!" Jisung protests.) "I don't care, Jisung, read a psychology thesis online or something. I bet-" Minho slams a hand on the table with renewed passion, making his two companions jump in their seats, exactly the effect he was going for. "- I bet Kim Seungmin has some dark secret hiding under that pretty little facade of his. Some kind of cheating device or memory-enhancing potion, anything that would let him sneak past the scrutiny of the professors undetected and suddenly leap up two years ahead unhindered. Some kind of mind-control spell, perhaps? Ooh, or perhaps he's blackmailing them-"
"Hyung, stop," Jeongin holds up a hand, wry grin on his face. "You're rambling again."
Minho rolls his eyes and doesn't rise to the teasing bait. "As I was saying before that extremely rude interruption-" He digs his knuckles into Jeongin's russet hair to reassert dominance in the conversation. "-I'm going to prove that Kim Seungmin advanced two years ahead through unrightful means, and drop his arrogant arse straight back to where he belongs." He shoots Jisung a pointed stare. "With brats just like himself."
Jisung hums indifferently, already used to Minho's childish insults. "Mhm. Good luck with that, hyung."
"I really will!" Minho insists fervently. "I'm going to gather evidence and make a log and scrounge through every text in the library until I find his secret weapon-"
Jeongin sighs and shoves Minho's long-forgotten chopsticks back into his face. "Just shut up and eat your ramyeon already, for Merlin's sake."
Log entry #1
Investigation commences today. I will prove the naysayers wrong; they may frown and scorn at my words, but I must trust myself and what I trust… is that Kim Seungmin is one almighty bitch. His comeuppance will arrive yet.
Signed, LMH
For the next few days, the library becomes Minho’s brand new residence. Every waking hour not spent on lessons or at mealtimes is used up there, with Minho looking tirelessly through tomes and grimoires and scrolls and scrolls, cataloguing spells, magical artefacts, mystical beings of great renown and so on. His spiral bound notebook, a remnant from his infrequent holiday visits to his hometown, slowly grows more worn by the day, filled with scribbled excerpts and hasty sketches born from the tip of a contraband ballpoint pen. And the determination of the hand that writes them is fueled fiercely with each encounter its owner has with its target.
Minho has the great misfortune of sharing not one, but two entire classes with that stuck-up twat, and has to endure four whole hours of Kim Seungmin thoroughly charming the professors with his never-ending inventory of magical knowledge, only to turn back and give the poor student behind him an evil stink eye or flick his quill hard enough for the ink to land on the scroll of the next desk; Minho’s desk. And if that wasn’t enough, the sheer number of times Seungmin so cleverly spins someone’s words of accusation around to make them seem like the guilty one instead never fails to make Minho’s blood boil.
Yes... how Minho will sleep like a blessed baby in a cradle once he has the satisfaction of exposing Kim Seungmin.
Despite their adamant disapproval, to their credit Jisung and Jeongin do drop by to check on him from time to time, if only to nag him into giving up his case or pester him for help with their own schoolwork. “I really don't know what's gotten into you, hyung,” Jisung whines one day, draping over the mahogany desk to drag Minho’s attention from The Gilgamesh Inquiry: A Four-Stage Experiment of Magical Self-Enhancement . “You're never in the tower before curfew and you skipped History of Magic just to come to the library of all places, I get we're the smart house but,” he pokes at the precarious stack of reading materials in front of Minho, “Merlin, isn't this a bit much?"
Minho just hums in response, hoping his fellow Ravenclaw will grow bored and leave him to his rummaging business. However, one of Minho’s character weaknesses is a constant underestimation of Jisung’s sheer obstinacy. At Minho’s indifference the younger only waves a hand in front of the scroll, unbudging in his determination to bother Minho into making that difference. “Oi, hyung! Can you even see me?” From his spread-eagled position on the table Jisung chances a peek at the title of the scroll. Minho snatches it out of his line of vision a fraction of a second too late. “Ooh, self-enhancement, hyung?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “What are you planning to do with it?”
Exasperated, Minho replies with a drawl, “It’s not about what I plan to do to myself, but what I plan to do with you if you don’t shove off , Han.”
The threat rings empty in the air, but Minho’s sentiments are plenty conveyed. The only thing that stopped Jisung from getting into Gryffindor is that singular IQ point that lets him know better than to continue pestering Minho. The younger backs off immediately, and sure, he has a healthy amount of suspicion in his eyes, but Minho is used to having his behaviour questioned. Nothing out of the norm.
Before Jisung departs, however, he pauses and drops one last comment before Minho can roll his eyes. “I hope you aren’t planning on becoming the new library ghost. Dori’s been positively miserable for the past few days.”
Minho gives pause to that, heart inevitably softening at the mention of his beloved kitten, and the logical reason behind Jisung’s argument starts to seep into his mind as well. “Alright,” he relents. “I promise that by the end of the week, I’ll be back to relieve you from cat-sitting duty, okay?”
Jisung just heaves a long-suffering sigh, gives Minho a half-hearted pat of encouragement on the back, and takes off for the Ravenclaw tower.
Friday rolls around too quickly, and Minho, despite his own hubris, is on the verge of giving up himself. Limited by the restrictions of whatever is legally allowed by the Ministry and within the compounds of a school where magical cheating would be censored, the best Minho can come up with in terms of a possible explanation is a potion that causes the user to have photographic memory for the next hour, but even then the ingredients are so rare and classified, only a Potions master of the highest grade would be able to obtain the full array required.
Dejectedly he slides the last book in his stack into its allocated shelf and silently resigns himself to a mystery unsolved. No one will ever realise how Kim Seungmin achieved his meteoric academic success, and more importantly, Minho won’t be the one to crack it.
It is with these heavy-hearted thoughts in mind that Minho traipses back to the entrance, brooding over his newfound loss of purpose. His intelligence could only be outmatched by his internal sense of justice, in fact when the Sorting Hat had contemplated his house in his head the noble house of Gryffindor was considered for his internal conviction. Too see a swindling duplicitous student get away with such devious acts… Minho couldn't stand to see such iniquities being committed in front of his very eyes. That, and he hated losing to a puzzle. That was what got him into Ravenclaw.
As Minho drags his feet towards the great entrance, his toe catches on something and sends him sprawling, nearly careening into a fresh stack of books that would have ruined both his day and his face. When he whirls around, eyes blazing with indignance, the culprit is revealed to be an innocuous messenger bag filled to the brim with stationeries and compendiums, now sprawled on the floor in a messy scatter after Minho’s collision. With an irritated scowl Minho scans the vicinity for the owner, ready to unleash a stern tongue-lashing on whichever careless first year that was thoughtless enough to leave their things about willy-nilly-
Then his eyes land on the cold hard gaze of Kim Seungmin, striding up to him- no, the bag. Silently the younger stoops over, wordlessly gathering up his things and placing them immaculately back into his bag. (Funny. Minho expected wandless magic seeing as he’s so ‘talented’.) The Slytherin's book bag had been the hazard that almost warranted Minho a one-way trip to Madam Pomfrey.
Minho grits his teeth. Just his luck. It’s like fate is taunting him right in his face, presenting him with the fruit of Tantalus right as he gives up his quest, teasing him with the thought of what could be, what he could have achieved, what more he could have done-
A lightning epiphany strikes Minho’s brilliant brain. Perhaps fate isn’t presenting him with the forbidden fruit... perhaps instead it is dangling a juicy golden apple of opportunity. Quickly he rushes over to Seungmin’s side, picking up a stray quill and a piece of parchment and offers it to the Slytherin. Seungmin’s eyes flick towards the items held out to him and slender fingers slip them out of Minho’s hand, then his eyes fly back in shock as they discover the identity of the helpful stranger.
Minho stares back, gaze impervious, and holds up another volume, The Fundamental Constitution of Beetle Eye s. “Do you not want the librarian to bash your head in for maltreatment of library property?”
Slowly Seungmin nods, eyes still wide with surprise, and takes the book. Without his guarded stony expression he could pass for a puppy, Minho concedes.
The two work in silence, both their faces carefully blank, and once the last parchment has been collected, Seungmin gives Minho a tight nod before hurrying off once more. Minho swallows a scoff with whatever self discipline he has left. Not even a word of thanks from that slimy ingrate. But nevertheless... His plan has been set into motion.
“I’m going to befriend Kim Seungmin,” Minho declares when he sees Jisung and Jeongin playing Exploding Snap near the window.
Jisung pinches a card so hard it blows up in his hands. Jeongin sighs and buries his face in his palms.
“I- cough - I beg your pardon?” Jisung wheezes out, frantically waving the rising smoke away and into Jeongin’s face, who bats it away with a scowl. “You want to what now?”
“Befriend Kim Seungmin, apparently,” Jeongin deadpans, setting down a new card as if Jisung’s debacle hadn’t happened and the remnant scent of burning was a figment of the imagination.
“But weren’t you cursing out his name just a few days ago, hyung?” Jisung questions, characteristically contradicting the designated characteristic of his house.
Jeongin, however, is much quicker on the upkeep. With an eyebrow raised he asks sternly, "What kind of conniving scheme are you concocting, hyung?"
Minho scowls, offended. "What kind of standard do you hold me to to think that I'd-"
"You're trying to infiltrate into Kim Seungmin's pants to steal his secrets!" Jisung blurts out in his epiphany, then bursts into raucous giggles, the type that means his garbage raccoon mind is up to no good. "You could say you're trying to get into his Chamber of-"
"This is a bad idea," Jeongin says a little too loudly, causing a nearby student to shoot him a venomous look, but he pays it no mind, "It's going to bring nothing but extra trouble and when he finds out, an extra trip to the medical bay, and I am most definitely not going to help you get out of whatever you get yourself into. Whatever devious little plot you're cooking up, hyung, don't ."
Log entry #7
Investigation temporarily halted due to emotional appeal for personal wellbeing from loved ones. Will update after further notice.
LMH
"Hyung," Jeongin grits out two days later, storming into the common room still in his unwieldy Quidditch uniform with an unusual red flush on his face, "whatever devious little plot you're cooking up, please do."
Minho says nothing, just hums. It was a ruthless quarterfinal match, with both houses going neck and neck as bloodthirsty wizards swooped around the arena, on the sharp lookout for the slightest moment of weakness in the opponent to jump on and exploit. In the end, however, Slytherin soundly defeated Ravenclaw when the Slytherin Seeker grabbed the Snitch from seemingly thin air and decisively kicking them out of the running for that year's champion. Personally, Minho doesn't care much for sport, he mostly attends the games as an excuse to avoid homework and to catch up with friends (Jisung meanwhile sees the matches as extra naptime), but he knows Jeongin lives for Quidditch. He's seen the shadows of the flames from the fireplace dance along the aspiring Keeper's face as he consumed book upon book of special Quidditch tactics and memorising every aspect of the magic behind broom-riding, dutifully repeating them in the pitch during practices. To him, the loss must be devastating, and for that Minho will make sure to bother him less often, and perhaps slide him a Pumpkin Pasty or two over the next week. But even so, he still has one big question.
"Wait… are you talking about Kim Seungmin?" Minho asks, rather dumbfounded.
Jeongin seethes and glares daggers at the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw as if she were the one Jeongin is vengeful against. What on earth did Seungmin do to earn sweet Jeongin’s wrath? "Who else would I be referring to! That boy is a fraud, a liar, a cheat, a, a, snivelling little snallygaster !" He breaks off his rant, still fuming hard, but clearly his anger hasn't fully vented yet. "I saw him! I saw him, right before that cretin Garcia caught the Snitch, he had taken his wand out, pointed it at Garcia and muttered a spell! That must be how Slytherin won!"
Minho blinks in disbelief. Sure, he had thought unkindly of Seungmin, having seen his snooty demeanour and cold treatment of others, but he never imagined such a high-and-mighty character would be this unscrupulous. Resolutely he pulls out the spiral notebook, and opens to a fresh page.
The next week of lessons would yield two Potions classes, one of two subjects Minho shares with Slytherin, and it is with this in mind that he plans out his rejuvenated scheme, now coloured with a new streak of vengeance. But this streak would not be a brash, violent, uncouth crimson, no, it would be a frigid, calculated, and cleverly machinated icy cerulean. The kind that presses into the back of closed eyes, the colour that flickers just beyond the range of sight in the shadows. Minho would make sure that this sweet, sweet revenge will forever be branded into Kim Seungmin’s amygdala. (His mom is a neurosurgeon, sue him.)
The dungeon is still the same dank, miserable place it was when Minho left it, and there is no lack of unpleasant shivers running up his spine as a draft curls up his calf from God knows where. He’d demand the Estate department do something to fix these unacceptable conditions, if the Estate department didn’t consist of Filch and Mrs Norris. He doubts Mrs Norris would be able to do much to fix the ghastly gusts, much less Filch. Nevertheless, Minho is a persistent person, and no amount of dreadful drafts will dissuade him from achieving his mission objective: becoming Seungmin’s Potions partner.
The task itself is straightforward enough, seeing as Minho’s usual partner, a flighty Ravenclaw by the name of Darcy, has an inclination to put her crafty brains to use by finding innovative excuses to turn up absent for classes. Even more conveniently, this class had an odd number of students, which meant that Seungmin was customarily left with Slughorn and his vain ramblings. Completing the mission would be a simple matter of getting to Seungmin’s bench first, beaming beatifically at Slughorn and saying a few honeyed words to butter the professor up. As easy as pie.
As the students settle in Minho casually sidles up to Seungmin’s usual bench, where the Slytherin waits quietly, ever punctual. Seungmin’s glance of shock is quickly covered up once more by his emotionless expression, but his second-long gape of incredulity is possibly the most priceless face he’s elicited thus far.
“I believe you’re in the wrong seat,” the Slytherin points out, the perfect picture of composure. Oh, how Minho will relish in breaking down that cunningly constructed facade to expose the raw flesh inside; and how he will delight in digging his nails straight into that flesh, pressing against all his weak spots, running his fingers over all his vulnerabilities-
“On the contrary,” he replies, cutting his own increasingly violent train of thoughts off, “I believe I'm exactly where I should be. Are you not in dire need of a partner your age?”
“No, I'm in need of a partner my calibre ," Seungmin hisses, displaying his typical Slytheron arrogance. "I don’t know what you want, but I can handle myself on my own , thank you very much. I don’t need you, so get lost.”
“Minho Lee!” Slughorn’s jolly voice carries across the dungeon, tinted with a hint of concern. “Is there any reason you are not at your designated bench?”
Minho immediately leaps into action. “Professor!” he appeals, trying to make his eyes look as piteous as possible. “As you know, Darcy has been down with a bad case of Scrofungulus that she just cannot recover from, and I’ve been getting rather lonely sitting by myself. So I thought I could try and glean just the teensiest bit of your wisdom through your most talented student!” He clasps his hands together earnestly, a complete farce. “You must understand, Professor; I’m only trying to improve my skills and not disappoint you. I could never reach your talented affinity for Potions, but I want to try.”
Slughorn’s eyebrows furrow as he contemplates Minho’s tooth-rotting justification, clearly taken by the smattering of flatter Minho laid as thick as marmalade into his speech. Throughout this time, Seungmin has stayed wordless and perfectly still, obviously leaving Minho alone to his fate should Slughorn deem his actions inordinate.
Finally, Slughorn harrumphs approvingly and waves a meaty hand. “I suppose Seungmin is very very adept at learning from me, and your performance could afford some brushing up.” (Minho tries not to bristle at that; his Potions grades are a more-than-acceptable average, thank you very much.) “Very well, for the time that Miss Darcy is down sick you may be Seungmin’s partner.”
Minho grins his most sincere smile and thanks Slughorn profusely, staunchly ignoring the persistent glare emanating from Kim Seungmin. As Slughorn walks away, he turns to the Slytherin student. "So! Shall we get started, fellow partner?"
Seungmin raises the dissection knife as Slughorn begins the instructions. "Make one wrong move, Birdbrain," he starts slicing the ingredients, but with his words it seems more like a demonstration, "and I will make sure you never make another one again."
Despite Seungmin's harsh words, Potions proceeds more smoothly than Minho would like to admit. As with the brief moment they shared picking up books, the unspoken synergy between them reemerges when Minho wordlessly walks to the storage to retrieve more root extract or when Seungmin passes Minho the vials to fill without looking. By the end of it, they have five whole vials full of appropriately sludgy black goo, which Slughorn appraises with much satisfaction. Throughout the lesson, Minho would describe their dynamic as… almost comforting, which definitely works to his advantage if he wants to get on Seungmin's good side.
Even so, he cannot help but gloat a little in his small victory. "I told you this is where I should be," Minho cannot help but slide smugly to Seungmin. Seungmin replies with a snort, but doesn't protest or threaten to cause bodily harm, both of which are great improvements.
When the lesson draws to a close and the students start filing out of the dungeon, Minho tells Seungmin a friendly goodbye. Seungmin just gives Minho another tight nod before rushing off once more. Minho stares at the Slytherin's back, perplexed. It appears that Kim Seungmin is a tougher nut to crack than he anticipated.
Well, Minho always did like a challenge.
Log entry #9
Second friendly contact made. Still haven't gained his trust, but I'm looking to change that. He really is good at Potions.
LMH
Minho can’t believe he’s been reduced to Googling “how to get someone to open up to you". At this stage of advancement in the natural world, Minho should be above Muggle devices, yet here he is, hunched over his shitty iPhone by the fireplace, scrolling before any prefects can catch him. It's the typical rubbish socialisation advice, being an active listener, ask more than tell, but Minho eats up any tip like a starving man. After all, he absolutely cannot afford to fail this mission, not when he has not only his own grudge but also Jeongin's revenge to settle on his shoulders.
He approaches Seungmin with utmost patience in Potions class (History of Magic is useless anyway), treating him like a thick chunk of ice that needs to be melted slowly into a puddle. Minho would estimate his skills to be above average when it comes to making friends, but he usually goes with the path of least resistance; going for those who are already open to a friendship and ready to reciprocate any amiable sentiments.
Seungmin is a completely different story. Whenever Minho greets him, he only gives a singular indicator of acknowledgement, whether it be a nod or a soft hum. Minho goes on the offensive and starts channelling his inner Jisung, having a one-sided conversation about any topic he can scrabble for, from what food he misses at home to the odd dream he had the night before. Seungmin listens quietly, only adding one or two definitive instructions along the potion-making process, but he engages with none of the content. Even so, it's clear from Seungmin's passive demeanour, through all the indifferent hums and noncommittal grunts, that the Slytherin is getting used to Minho's company. Good. With a person as socially isolated as him he'd learn to cling onto Minho's presence like a desperate cat scrabbling for an anchor in a flood. Exactly what Minho wants.
The results don’t come in as quickly as expected, though. Minho is mad at his own exhilaration when Seungmin responds to his incessant chattering with a single word. And it had been “dogs”. He’s not even a cat person! However, Minho swallows his instinctive judgement and replaces it with a kind smile, paying no attention to his grinding molars. Just another reason why Kim Seungmin needs to know his place.
Despite his boundless amounts of patience, Minho is human, and starts getting slightly irritated. He really should have made some decent amount of progress by now, but the most he’s achieved is a soft chuckle (which most definitely does not spark irrational joy in him). He calls for a war meeting one evening.
“Was this really necessary, hyung?” Jeongin complains as he slides into the loveseat opposite Minho. Jisung follows a step behind, clutching at a bag of Bertie Bott’s and scratching at the stack of straw on his head that is his bedhead. “You know I like going to the Astronomy tower on Wednesdays.”
“This is top priority, Jeongin,” Minho says solemnly, teepeeing his hands together and presenting his log book, now filled up to entry forty-two. “We have a big problem.”
“You’re still at this, hyung?” Jisung rests a shoulder on the back frame of Minho’s chair. “I thought you would have given up by now.”
“He made Jeongin mad, and no one hurts my Innie and gets away with it,” Minho declares resolutely, glaring at his journal as if it were Kim Seungmin himself, imagining the two burning holes that would be going through it right now if he could will it so.
Jeongin scowls. “I’m so touched.”
“Here’s my problem,” Minho begins, opening the journal. “What do you notice about all these entries?”
Jisung squints thoughtfully at the scrawling text, quietly deciphering the mix of English and Korean. “Merlin’s beard, you keep track of all your conversations? That… your level of commitment…”
“Has an alternative name called stalking ,” Jeongin deadpans, but leans over in interest nonetheless. “Wow, Kim Seungmin isn’t a talker, that’s for sure.”
Minho snaps the notebook shut, narrowly cleaving Jisung’s nose. The two jump back, but remain calm, all but accustomed to Minho’s antics. “That’s the point! Kim Seungmin barely says one syllable for every hundred words I say, and if I weren’t doing this with an ulterior motive I’d say he isn’t even worth ten words!” He slams his head and bemoans his existence. “My mother is a nationally-qualified neurosurgeon, and I can barely get inside people’s heads at all.”
Jisung wrinkles his nose, unpersuaded from his jellybeans. “Thanks for that image hyung, I hate it.”
“Kim Seungmin is in Slytherin, right?” Jeongin picks up on Minho’s slack, unperturbed. “Those snakes are as unresponsive to affection as Gryffindors are to anything that requires an IQ of more than eighty. I think you may need to try a different approach.”
Jisung nods eagerly, and offers Minho a neon pink jelly bean. Minho bites into it, then pushes down the urge to spit it back into Jisung’s hand to get rid of the horrid taste of hair dye from his tongue. “Yeah! All the Slytherins in my class love to insult each other. I used to think it was awful of them but I once told a girl her bag was nice and she told me to fuck off, then immediately laughed when her friend said her shoes were ugly. Jeering is in their second nature, hyung. Maybe you should try that instead.”
“Not that it should be much of a problem for you anyway,” Jeongin tosses in, and dashes off before Minho can lunge for him.
Log entry #43
Current method is too tedious and resource-draining. A change of offense tactic is in order. It’s time to start learning the subtle art of insults.
LMH
Minho waves a hand in front of his nose as he sits at the Potions bench. “Good morning, Seungmin!” he chirps cheerily. Seungmin grunts a reply. Nothing out of the normal, so far. The lesson begins, and Minho bursts the dams.
“Could you pass me the fairy tears, please?” Seungmin asks absentmindedly, cutting into Minho’s monologue about the conspiracy behind hallucinogenic mushrooms and Santa Claus.
Minho grabs the vial, glancing briefly at the luminescent multichrome glow of the rare substance. “Remember, it’s only five droplets,” he singsongs as he passes it to Seungmin. “Not that you’d forget,” he tags on in a lower voice, “teacher’s pet. ”
To his utter surprise, Seungmin snorts. Snorts! Merlin, Minho is buying Jeongin and Jisung all the Butterbeer they can drink the next time they go to Hogsmeade. “It’s four droplets, actually.”
Minho wants to sob in jubilation. Four! Words! He managed to eke four words out of Kim Seungmin, the impenetrable fortress, the bastion of stubbornness, the icon of-
The humiliation of Seungmin’s words hits second.
That day, Minho decides that he doesn’t have to record every exchange that they have.
However, if Minho playing the fool will get Seungmin talking, then so be it. He ridicules Seungmin’s funny way of holding the knife. Seungmin snickers at Minho’s frequent sneezes whenever Slughorn mentions the word ‘essay’. Minho pokes fun at Seungmin’s habit of throwing the weight of his robe to one side to pour ingredients in the cauldron. Seungmin ripostes with Minho’s mutterings to himself whenever he scribbles down observations. Minho lets his competitive side take over, making fun of Seungmin for this, getting teased back for that. Minho tells himself that it’s necessary to complete his objective, this back and forth banter, the only way he’s ever going to become familiar with Kim Seungmin. He absolutely does not feel any fondness whenever the corner of Seungmin’s lip quirks up in amusement, nor does his chest fill with a bursting feeling whenever Seungmin rises up to his mischievous taunts with his own clever, biting remarks. Those comments were moulded to sting. Instead, they soothe an itching sensation beneath Minho's skin; they are the salve to his aching bones from a long day in a way that other common company cannot cure.
And one day, Seungmin says absentmindedly as he dusts unicorn horn shavings into a bubbling violet concoction, “Oh yes, you were saying the other day about the advantages of having twelve fingers?” Minho wants to implode on the spot. Kim Seungmin. Indulging him . He asks Jisung to pinch him after class, because he must be dreaming. (Jisung eagerly yanks his ear and very much reassures him that yes, this is reality, jarring, painful reality.)
The final, remaining problem with Minho’s newfound strategy, however, is that despite their more easygoing dynamic, Seungmin still has his invisible shield up. The non-results isn’t for the lack of Minho’s attempts to probe deeper into Seungmin’s life beyond just childish insults. It slams up when Seungmin avoids Minho’s eyes after he asks, “Did your mother never teach you how to share?”. It barges into their conversation when Seungmin slices the dandelion root a little fiercer after Minho comments, “Want to take a little swig of the potion? Just for the extra luck when you skip another grade after Christmas break.”
Minho pokes and prods at Seungmin gingerly, attempting to hit a weak spot or pounce upon a gap in his defences. But Seungmin is ever-vigilant, and although he does not perceive Minho’s veiled facade of casualness with suspicion, Minho notes with frustration that pragmatically speaking, he is no closer to achieving his goal than before.
He mentions such in his phone call to his mother from a concealed corner in the Ravenclaw tower (protected by a VPN, of course), worded vaguely and hinted at with poorly hidden aggravation. And as always, Minho’s eomma finds the perfect remedy for the uneasiness in his heart, and gives him the motivation to persist onwards with his mission. “If you feel like you’re not seeing any instant results,” she tells him, voice scratchy and tinny with cellular connection, “remember that in science, the most important virtue is the willingness to be patient and try again.”
Minho sends his mother a new dragon-smelted brooch, although he’s uncertain if she’ll appreciate it as much once she finds out the full story behind its gifting. But her words have heartened him nonetheless, and he proceeds doggedly, determined to persist in maintaining his newfound camaraderie with Seungmin.
Not that talking with Seungmin had ever taken that much effort in the first place. Even if Minho won’t admit it, goading Seungmin on then receiving equal backlash has become almost second nature to him; it takes only an instantaneous second to get Seungmin laughing into the back of his hand, and for himself to start giggling along, feeling as weightless as helium. It’s carried on into furtive glances followed swiftly by secretive smiles at each other in History of Magic classes, and has gone even beyond the confines of the classroom. As Minho’s operation passes the ten week mark, he can check another milestone off on his quest to gain Seungmin’s unconditional trust: Seungmin takes the initiative to give a singular wave to Minho in the middle of the Great Hall, triggering twin looks of shock and confusion from Jisung and Jeongin. Minho snorts at their faces, and wiggles his hand back in greeting, ignoring the tingling thrill that rushes through his veins.
“What in Salazar’s blasted Basilisk was that, hyung?” Jisung blurts out when Minho retreats his arm back. “You two are friends now?”
Jeongin just rubs his hands together gleefully, having gotten over his initial surprise. “Yes, hyung,” he cackles into his pumpkin soup, “good. Very good.”
It's gotten so instinctive to the point that Minho nearly can't decipher fact from fiction. He has to consciously remind himself everytime he feels the urge to smile at the thought of Seungmin that this is all a masquerade, an act of artifice doomed to end in nothing but betrayal and sweet, sweet revenge. And yet, Minho can barely tell apart which of his reactions are genuine, and which ones are purely for the facade. Are his grins truly fake? Is the adrenaline in his veins purely from the thrill of getting one step closer to victory?
Minho isn't quite sure he can answer that.