ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ ʀᴀɪɴ ♦ ᴋᴊɪ + ᴡғғ
It was dark outside when Jongin last checked, mean clouds rolling over the sky to bless the area with sudden summer storms. After the heat that had encompassed the country a few days prior, today’s result seemed to be pure, pure revenge. Had he been born a Muggle, there would be an umbrella poised in his hand, fingers curled around a rod of metal that would only entice the thunderstorms further. But with magic that could dry his clothes within seconds, Jongin felt no restraint to keep him from walking out into the steady downpour. Believing to hear a muffled shout or call from the other side of the Middle Courtyard, the Ravenclaw’s brows furrowed as his eyes scanned the area, finding nothing yet the faint claps of thunder in the distance.
