Jin was still feeling… skittish being out in England on his own. The first night he’d been let off the leash, at that event the Abraxleys had hosted on their behalf, he’d had all his brothers within sight pretty much the whole evening. Abeoji Yeom had been floating around too, in the background, but they’d all been there. Together. With him. Since then, they’d attended a few events together and a few separate, but he hadn’t ventured out on his own alone yet. Not… really. Not like this. But his curiosity coupled with a drive to get out of that zoo of a house tugged Jin’s feet elsewhere. He hadn’t intended to come to the quidditch pitch, but when in—er. England? He supposed.

The pitch he’d stumbled upon belonged to the Chudley Canons. An interesting name for a team that was all foreign consonants on his tongue. It was also on the southern-most portion of the isle about as far away as one could escape from Northumberland— or close to it.

It had been a long time since Jin had picked up a broom himself. Not since school, at least? And even then, he’d only done it on a dare from Ahn-Bo. It had been the thing that sparked whatever had come for them after the fact, a history he felt too much guilt to dwell on long. Looking out over the pitch now, Jin stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. (He hated how tightly fitted to his posterior they were, ugh.)

The smell of rain on the wind put him at ease. For a moment, he almost felt he could breathe. Out here, with nothing much going on in the stands around him and the end of a practice across the pitch, he could almost imagine what it might be like to soar freely— unrestricted. Almost. But the weight of the jade pendant around his neck was heavy and Jin felt it even as he came across a wayward broom on the ground. He looked up. It must have belonged to one of the players. He reached out a hand to recall it, wordlessly, so he might return it.

The rush of magic he felt as it connected with his hand was warm and overwhelming. For half a second, Jin was almost tempted to try it. But he wouldn’t. This wasn’t his, anyway.

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The tingle of temptation lingered in his fingertips even as Jin held the broom a little away from himself. He didn’t know much about quidditch or flying, but it seemed like a sleek, elegant thing. Probably fast and bendy around turns. He startled a little at the sound of someone behind him and an embarrassed blush heated in the apples of his cheeks. It wasn’t strong, but pale as he was it was still notable.

“Er—“ he searched for the English quickly, still a bit out of practice. “No, I don’t fly much.” He looked down at the too sleek broom and wondered if this man who’d wandered up to him was the owner, or knew who might be. “It was lying here on the ground so I was going to return it, but…” was it wrong to admit he was tempted? Jin flashed the stranger a sheepish grin that was half mischief and half embarrassment. “You caught me before I could.”

And perhaps it was a bit strange, he thought belatedly, to be so friendly with someone he’d just met but— Jin didn’t think twice. He wasn’t a thief. And he certainly wasn’t dressed like a peasant either.

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At mention of this being a ‘practice broom’ Jin made a small noise of recognition. That made sense, he supposed. Extras for the facility to have on hand. He gave the newcomer a curious glance as he suggested trying it out though. (A glance that ran up and down his thin frame quickly.) He didn’t much look like the players Jin had seen on the pitch just before, or at least he wasn’t dressed like them, but he still held a sort of authority that made the half-vampire want to challenge it.

Flashing the man a grin full of pointed canines, Jin resisted the urge to flirt blatantly. Instead, he gave a sheepish little shrug that was all feigned humility. “I don’t think I’d know where to start,” he admitted. (And it was true, technically.) “Would you care to demonstrate?” He offered the other man the broom with no intention of letting it go. Either he would understand or he wouldn’t, but either way Jin supposed he’d get a good view.

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Jin resisted the urge to grin again. He’d like this man to show him thoroughly how to use a broom.

“Seojin Jeong,” he responded, accent in full swing around his own familiar name. He’d reversed the order to the Western style so it wouldn’t be mistaken, but it was all Joseoneo when it came out of his mouth. “But you can call me Jin.”

He didn’t let go of the broom.

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At the introduction, Jin inclined his head politely. “Cassius,” he repeated, tasting the foreign syllables on his tongue. Lestrange, he categorized quietly. “Like the man from your Shakespeare, Julius Caesar?” He couldn’t help but grin.

Jin had recently found an old, dusty tomb of the scholar’s works in their zoo of a house and set himself to reading it. He’d thought at first it might improve and help him practice his English but in fact, it felt like a whole different language or dialect altogether. He was determined to struggle through it, but he had a lot of questions. And notes in the margins.

In Joseon it was rather impertinent to call any new acquaintance by a first name, given how titles and status meant so much, so Jin didn’t dare call the man Cash. But he felt a little thrill at Cassius. It was a nice name, anyway. He inclined his head towards the broom.

“Would you mind showing me now then, Cassius?” He asked. This man was too stiff to catch the drift Jin had hoped, but he wouldn’t turn down the lesson now that the idea was in his head.

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The man’s smile was brilliant and it lit up his entire handsome face in a way Jin couldn’t have anticipated. Lestrange seemed reserved almost, shy or cautious or both. The smile was a new facet of him altogether and Jin mirrored it slightly, unable to help himself. At mention of letting go of the broom, he debated.

On the one hand— that seemed the most practical and certainly the most gentlemanly. If he was trying to make a new friend, such was the avenue best taken. On the other, he’d been trying to make a point. Any accompanying statement that would drive the point home however seemed vulgar, suddenly.

Jin released the broom innocently and took a step back. Lestrange didn’t have to know he was a talent himself on a broomstick. That wasn’t the point he'd been trying to make. But he did incline his head curiously, waiting to see what skills the other would share with him. Or lessons, if he was keen enough.

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From the moment the broomstick left his grip, Jin could feel the energy around them change. It was like Lestrange was meant to be astride the thing, even from the earliest takeoff. He hauled himself on the broom so quickly and zipped up to a height that made Jin’s head spin in a matter of moments. A smile split the vampire’s face and he let out a sound of approval he knew Lestrange wouldn’t hear. “Whoa—”

He zipped and looped in an obvious show of being flashy and for a second, watching him was like being back at Mahoutokoro. Jin almost forgot he was in Britain and imagined himself on the edge of the quidditch pitch, being buffeted by sea wind, as Ahn-Bo-ah ripped up and down, left and right in his quest to be the best. The reminder of before ached in Jin’s very soul. Everything his brother had lost, and everything he could have been— washed away like the very tides that had trained him to be so resilient.

By the time Lestrange landed, Jin was back to the present. He had an impressed grin on his face at the last little stunt. That was something he’d never managed to master himself despite Ahn-Bo’s begging him to try out for the team. He’d never have made a decent enough seeker because he wasn’t willing to risk his neck quite that far.

“I can see that,” Jin responded, that same silly smile tugging one of his cheeks up to expose a single dimple. It had been so long since he’d been enchanted by someone on a broom. Deciding to lean into the ploy that he himself had no idea what to do, Jin shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked on his heels. “Any advice then, for someone who evidently hasn’t?”

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