en-lost

[en-lost]

watch your back!

sunghoon x fem!reader ┋ cw: mean boy sunghoon, angst, lowercase intended, 500-1k wc, not proofread (let me know if i missed something!)

sypnosis: you were merely trying to help, but be careful not everyone can appreciate an act of kindness

It was a crisp autumn morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The leaves outside the windows of the dungeons swirled in vibrant hues of orange and red, casting dancing shadows on the cold stone floors of the Potions classroom. Inside, students were settling into their seats, unpacking their books and ingredients, while Professor Snape prepared to begin the lesson. His stern gaze swept over the class, daring anyone to speak out of turn.

You sat near the middle of the room, focusing on your cauldron and taking careful notes. Potions wasn’t your favorite subject, but you enjoyed the challenge it presented. Today’s lesson was on the Draught of Peace, a potion known for its soothing effects, but also its tricky preparation process. You were determined to get it right, especially with Snape’s eyes darting around, ready to catch any mistake.

As you reached for a vial of powdered moonstone, you noticed Sunghoon, the boy next to you who transferred from a wizarding school in South Korea a few months ago. He wasn’t like most of the other students. Tall and striking, with a smirk that could melt ice, Sunghoon had a reputation for trouble. He often wore a look of disinterest, his dark eyes simmering with a sort of defiance that seemed to challenge anyone who dared to cross him.

Sunghoon was the last person you’d expect to be good at Potions, yet there he was, somehow managing to avoid Snape’s ire. Today, though, he seemed unusually tense. His brow furrowed in concentration, and his usually confident hands were shaking slightly as he measured out his ingredients.

You couldn’t help but glance at his cauldron, noticing that his potion was starting to look off—a faint, ominous curl of smoke was rising from it. “Sunghoon,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice low, “I think you’re doing it wrong. You need to add the powdered moonstone after the syrup of hellebore, not before.”

He shot you a sharp look, his expression hardening. “I don’t need your help,” he snapped under his breath, his tone dripping with annoyance. “Mind your own business.”

Taken aback, you recoiled slightly, not expecting such a harsh response. You tried to focus on your own potion, but your gaze kept flicking back to Sunghoon. His potion was bubbling dangerously now, the liquid inside turning an unsteady shade of gray. You knew you should just let it go, but something compelled you to speak up again.

“If you don’t fix it, it’s going to—”

“Shut up,” Sunghoon interrupted, louder this time, causing a few heads to turn. “I said I don’t need your help.”

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you quickly looked down at your cauldron, trying to ignore the curious stares of your classmates. But then there was a loud hiss, followed by a small explosion of smoke. Sunghoon’s potion had gone completely awry, sending up a thick cloud that filled the room.

Professor Snape’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he stormed over. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice cold and sharp. “Mr. Park, have you decided to experiment with failure today?”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw, his expression defiant. “I don’t need your commentary, Professor,” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear, but Snape caught it. His eyes narrowed further, and his lips curled in a disdainful sneer.

“Ten points from Slytherin for your insolence, Mr. Park,” Snape declared, his voice icy. “And you’ll be scrubbing cauldrons after class—without magic.”

Sunghoon didn’t say anything, but you could see his fists clench tightly at his sides. Snape turned his attention to you, his gaze piercing. “And you, Miss Y/L/N, what were you thinking, allowing this mess to happen?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. “I tried to warn him, Professor,” you stammered, “but he wouldn’t listen.”

Snape’s lips thinned, and he gave a curt nod. “Five points from Slytherin for your poor choice in lab partners, and detention for both of you after class.”

Sunghoon shot you a glare, and you could feel the anger radiating off him. He was furious, not just at Snape but at you for speaking up. You felt a mix of frustration and guilt—you’d only tried to help, but now you were both in trouble.

As Snape walked away, Sunghoon leaned in closer, his voice low and threatening. “This is your fault,” he hissed. “If you had just kept your mouth shut, none of this would’ve happened.”

You bristled at his tone, your own anger flaring. “My fault? I was trying to help you, but you’re too stubborn to listen to anyone!”

Sunghoon’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, you thought he might actually yell at you. But then he turned away, his jaw set in a hard line. He didn’t say another word for the rest of the class, and you focused on finishing your potion, your hands shaking with a mix of anger and frustration.

When the class finally ended, you packed up your things quickly, eager to leave the tense atmosphere behind. But Sunghoon grabbed your arm, stopping you. His grip was firm, almost painful.

“What?” you snapped, pulling your arm away. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

He glared at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. “We’re not done,” he said quietly, his voice low and dangerous. “Not by a long shot. You’re going to pay for this.”

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words, but you refused to back down. “Fine,” you shot back. “Bring it on. I’m not afraid of you, Sunghoon.”

He smirked, a cold, calculating look in his eyes. “You should be,” he murmured, then turned and walked out of the classroom, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You knew you’d made an enemy today, but you weren’t about to let Sunghoon intimidate you. If he wanted a fight, you’d be ready.

As you left the dungeon, heading to your next class, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger—and far more dangerous—than a ruined potion.