BET [Jikook]

06

That evening, Jimin arrives ten minutes early outside the dungeon classroom where his Potion's class is held.

He shouldn't be here this early - the Slytherin common room is only a three minute walk from here, after all, and he's not exactly eager to attend this exacting of punishment.

Yet, here he is, pacing nervously up and down the hall, waiting anxiously for Jungkook and Filch to show.

When footsteps finally patter down the hall, it's two sets in unison. As the footsteps round the corner of the hall, Filch is just reaching out to shake Jungkook's hand, that greasy smile spread across his lips.

His cat is doing figure eights around the long length of Jungkook's legs.

Jimin can't believe it. He's never seen Filch smile at anyone, especially not students. Jungkook just gets everything.

Is there nothing in this life that goes wrong for him?

Filch and Jungkook finally reach Jimin's section of the hall, the smile dropping from the janitor's face faster than Jimin can keep track of.

"In here," barks Filch. He slams open a classroom door, ushering Jimin and Jungkook inside. There's a bucket of water and some soap just inside the door, as well as two scrubbing brushes.

Filch says, "Scrub til it's clean," then pulls the door closed.

A second later, it creaks open again, just long enough for Filch to stick his head back in and say sweetly, "Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Jeon."

Slam!

The door closes again.

In the silence following the abrasive noise, Jungkook chuckles softly.

When Jimin looks at him, he's peeking back coyly from under long black lashes, mouth curved into a smirk. The dim light that plagues the lower levels of the castle does no wrong to Jungkook, casting his skin into shades of dull and bright gold in a sepia-filtered fashion.

His black eyes sparkle mischievously, and his hands curve around the corner of one of the ingredient tables that holds a small, pitchy cauldron on its stand.

It seems that Jungkook forgot his robes - he's only in a white button-up shirt with the Gryffindor coat-of-arms on the breast, a scarlet and gold tie loosely looped around his neck. The faulty light here is surely deceptive in the way it makes his waist look so slim, his legs so long, his chest so gorgeously chiseled beneath the thin dress shirt.

"Let's clean," Jimin says.

He forces his head to clear, focusing only on the task at hand and not the stage warmth bubbling up in his stomach.

He paces to the bucket full of water and grabs a brush, wetting it and lathering it in soap before sinking to his knees and starting to scrub.

After a moment, Jungkook follows. He takes the second brush and kneels beside Jimin, close enough that his head radiates off of him.

Too close.

"If you start on the other side of the room, we can meet in the middle. It'll be faster," says Jimin, even though it technically won't be any different.

There's a tiny huff from Jungkook, but he does as commanded, retreating to the far side of the classroom and disappearing behind a table.

When he's out of sight, Jimin allows his shoulders to relax. It's much easier when he can just pretend that Jungkook isn't here, and he's alone. Then, he can actually take some please in the mind-numbing task of scrubbing the filthy dungeon floor.