The Wizarding World of the Dreamies [ DISCONTINUED ]

Flying? Flying.

History of Magic had to be the most boring class Jeno had ever attended in his fifteen years of living. The teacher was a shorter, older man, who was clearly a Ravenclaw from the blue scattered in random places around the room. Jeno thought having the nicest classroom for such a boring subject was such a waste. The beanbags on the floor served as seats for all the students, the only required materials being a textbook and writing utensils. You could tell Taeil enjoyed history, but even his cheery attitude was falling flat to Jeno, who didn't think he would survive seventh-period flying class without dying.

Jaemin was sitting by his side with his textbook perched in his lap, Irene glaring holes into his head from behind him. Donghyuck was asleep on his other side, drool dripping down his chin and onto the beanbag.

"That's fucking disgusting," Jeno whispered to himself, scooting closer to Jaemin to avoid touching any of Donghyuck's saliva. He'd decided to save that job for Mark since the boy had clearly taken a liking to the rebellious Gryffindor.

"You miss me that much?" Jaemin teased when he felt Jeno's knee brush against his thigh.

"And if I said yes? What would you do?" Jeno asked cheekily, leaning his head onto his hands to be closer to Jaemin. The Slytherin flicked his forehead, his hand resting comfortably on Jeno's lap.

"I'd kiss the fuck outta you."

"Jaemin!" Jeno scolded, smacking the boy's arm. The force of him backing away nearly sent the hoodie on his head flying, and he frantically pulled it tighter.

"Careful, wouldn't want anyone to see you, right kitten?"

Irene coughed behind them, tapping Jeno on the shoulder impatiently.

"Why are you friends with him?" She asked Jeno, not bothering to lower her voice. Jeno glanced between the two that were drowning in some sort of unidentifiable tension.

"Do you guys hate each other or totally want to fuck each other?" Jeno giggled at the offended expression on the pair's faces. "Hey, it was a valid question."

"You know I only have eyes for you now, kitten." Jaemin winked, and Irene slapped his shoulder, quite violently,  Jeno noted. He surely didn't want those acrylics anywhere near him.

"Jeno what did I tell you about him? You know, in the book shop. Have you forgotten all of that?" Irene had a tight grip on his wrist, her eyes almost pleading. Jeno nodded, mumbling a pitiful 'I remember' under his breath.

"God, Irene, what did you tell him? Did you play the victim again? Do you not remember the rest of the story or are you just that stupid?"

Irene scowled, her grip tightening. Just as Jeno had predicted, acrylics were no joke when they were digging into your skin.

"Jeno, what's up with you two?"

"We're just friends." Jeno winced when he felt the sharp point dig further into his flesh, probably leaving a mark.

"No one stays 'just friends' with Na Jaemin."

"Irene, you're hurting me," Jeno whimpered softly and tried to pry the girls hand off of him. But the Ravenclaw was too far gone, locked in a pit of rage and releasing her anger physically onto Jeno. She was glaring so far into Jaemin's soul he was sure the boy was uncomfortable, but he was staring back with as much fury, oblivious to the pain Jeno was in. "Irene, please, let go."

"Jaemin, do you know who was the previous headmaster of Hogwarts?" Taeil's question knocked Jaemin from his daze, and all he could do was smile sheepishly at the man, the entire lesson flowing in one ear and out of the other. "I didn't think so. Irene, care to share why you have a death grip on Jeno?"