Chapter Text
January, 2012
Jihoon’s eyes snap open when the door slams open, hastily wiping away the last remnants of drool from his face just as Seongwoo sweeps right through the common room and up the stairs. There’s the clatter of footsteps that that follows, unintelligible yells through the doorway in a voice that sounds a lot like the sixth-year Ravenclaw prefect Hwang Minhyun as the door shuts.
Seongwoo had been closed off of late, his expressions shuttered; there was a coldness to him that was seldom seen, a quiet danger that reminded Jihoon starkly of why, in spite of all appearances, Ong Seongwoo remained one of Slytherin’s most influential persons over the years, and why the upper years had oft warned not to get into Seongwoo’s bad books. Jihoon was lucky to have Seongwoo’s company and hand of friendship when he’d joined the quidditch team last year; there were few half bloods here, but being in with Ong Seongwoo was a quick ticket to success in the house of snakes, and but for a few barbs, Jihoon had been fortunate.
Yet in spite of that tentative friendship, Seongwoo remained much of a mystery. He was charismatic, charming and unfailingly polite, friendly, with an ever present smile on his lips, but he was also quiet, pensive, eyes sharp and keen and observing. Jihoon remembers what had happened to Ha Minho at the start of the semester, and the way Seongwoo had torn him down to pieces and tries not to shudder.
For the most part though, Seongwoo was content in keeping to his own elite, pureblood circle of friends: first, there was Hwang Minhyun, who Jihoon had glimpsed yelling earlier like a barbarian, part of the sacred twenty-eight families and just as wealthy and powerful as Seongwoo’s own. There was Kim Jonghyun, small and slight, the current Hufflepuff head boy who could only be bound for great things, and Kwon Hyunbin, tall and gangly and long and very good-looking, his father touted to be the next Minister of Magic. Kim Jaehwan, a little eccentric, but sharp as a tack, and despite his robes of blue and bronze, was more Slytherin than the best of them.
Then, there was Daniel. There were few privy to Seongwoo’s secrets and thoughts, but for the almost exclusive exception of Kang Daniel. Jihoon thought very little of Daniel, the overgrown puppy that latched onto Seongwoo like a particular species of barnacle, and had, in days past, wondered how the two were friends. (The rumor mill had speculated that it had to do with that all american flair, Daniel’s parents well-known diplomats to MACUSA, and the fact that Seongwoo probably harbored secret aspirations of entering politics) Jihoon wasn’t one to buy into rumours; it was clear that Seongwoo adored Daniel in every possible way, and held his opinion and friendship in high regard. Jihoon remembers wryly that one time someone had accidentally complemented Daniel’s skills in the middle of quidditch practice, and Seongwoo’s whole face had lit up with a smile so wide, Jihoon thought his jaw might have dislocated itself in the process. Minki had all but snorted and smacked Seongwoo hard on the back and told him to get his shit together .
The past week had proved tortuous to watch, and watched Jihoon did, for it was a spectacular thing, seeing the small cracks in Seongwoo that had unravelled slowly, like the strings of a tapestry, hands clenching and unclenching as he walked, eyes tired and red. Daniel had been conspicuously absent for the better part of this week; it was no secret that they’d fought, and very publicly at that. Jihoon had spotted the Gryffindor lurking outside the dungeons on one too many nights, waiting for Seongwoo, tugging him away by the sleeve of his robes to speak in quiet, hushed tones before the older boy turned his face away, lips pursed as he stalked away into the night.
And there was Daniel again; Jihoon can see him stooped outside the entryway in a sliver of light, shuffling his feet as a bunch of second year girls let the portrait door slide open. They were staring him down as they went, but Daniel, desperate, pushes past the portrait door and into the common room like a storm. He swivels on his feet, and then perhaps recognising Jihoon from their games together, stares at him and demands where’s Seongwoo .
Jihoon frowns. How rude. To think he’d thought of helping him get Seongwoo just a few moments ago (no, not really).
“What business is it to you where Seongwoo is?” Jihoon smiles tightly, making sure to show all his teeth, voice as businesslike as possible, “and most of all, what is it to me that you’re searching for Seongwoo?”
And really, Jihoon wants to know . He’s never thought himself as a gossip rag, and for the first time in his life, he’s wondering if Eunki was right that Minki is the devil reincarnated, and if his odd ramblings and raised eyebrows are rubbing off on him because Jihoon wants to know. They’re relationship has always been a little intense, and Jihoon, watching them, is often struck by the way their bodies are always moving in orbit of one another, hands chasing, and heads turning in closed whispers too quiet for the world to hear. (Not that Jihoon will ever admit that he had followed them, and then been stowed away in a corner of the Room of Requirement for a whole three hours, covered conveniently by an invisibility cloak and extendable ears in tow)
There are no friends in Slytherin, not really, not in the conventional sense at least. Instead, there are allies and alliances, an intricate spider web of power. There were people who Jihoon could trust, few as they were, but they were companions seeking a common goal; Seongwoo is more of a mentor than a friend to Jihoon really, but even despite his lack of insight on the nuances of that emotion, surely, he thinks, now squinting hard at Daniel, feet tapping nervously, eyes searching as if for a glimmer of Seongwoo’s lanky frame, that there must be more than mere friendship to these two.
Jihoon softens, just a tad, deigning to fraternise with the enemy not for Daniel’s sake, but their poor oblivious captain, and then sighs .
“He’s upstairs, second room to the right. Minki’s room.”
Daniel startles, and then, with a weak grin, he nods back at Jihoon and takes off upstairs --
“Kang Daniel! Do both yourselves a favor and tell him you love him. Seongwoo has been miserable . Just...just do yourselves both a favor and tell him you love him. That often works a lot better than whatever the hell you’ve both been doing.”
Daniel softens, smiling a little wider, if a little sadder, and shakes his head. And Jihoon frowns as Daniel waves him off, padding into the doorway.
The poor fools.
(Jihoon closes his book. He’s slept away most of the morning anyway, and he figures it might just be the time for him to take a stroll by the lake; he hears the weather is good this time of the year.)