┏ ೋღ : 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂. : ღೋ ┓

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊:
𝔎𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰,
𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔰,

┗━━ ೋღ : ©-𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒄 : ღೋ ━━━┛

𝕿HE GREENHOUSE WAS BATHED IN A SOFT, golden glow as dim sunlight filtered through the enchanted glass roof, casting dappled patterns on the ground. The warmth was a welcome contrast to the lingering March chill outside. It was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant drip of condensation falling from the ceiling.

You and Neville stood at your shared workstation, the Mimbulus Mimbletonia project sitting between you in its pot. Its small, bulbous form had grown slightly since the seeds were planted, and the spiny surface glistened faintly, evidence of its delicate nature. After leaving it to soak in the sunlight for a few days, you two agreed that it was time to check on its progress.

Neville adjusted his dragonhide gloves nervously, his movements careful as he prepared to examine the plant. "It looks like it's doing well," he said softly, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nodded, leaning forward to inspect the plant yourself. "It does," you agreed, your tone matching his quiet one. "I was a little worried at first, but I think it's thriving."

"They're tricky to grow," Neville admitted with a faint smile, his gaze still on the plant. "Even experienced herbologists struggle with them sometimes."

The quiet hum of the greenhouse surrounded you both as Neville gently tested the soil's moisture with his finger. "It feels a little dry," Neville noted. "We might need to water it, but not too much. These plants don't like to be overwatered."

"Got it. Just tell me when to stop," you responded, reaching for the watering can nearby.

As you carefully poured water into the pot, Neville leaned closer to watch, his hand hovering as if ready to intervene if necessary. "That's good," he told you softly, his tone tinged with relief. "Perfect, actually."

Setting the watering can aside, you wiped your hands on your robes and glanced at him. "You know, I think we're doing a pretty good job so far with this project."

Neville's lips twitched into a shy smile. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice almost a whisper. "I think so too."

For a moment, the two of you stood in companionable silence, the greenhouse feeling like a world apart from the bustling castle. The soft light and earthy smells wrapped around you like a cocoon, and you felt a surprising sense of calm.

"So," you hummed after a while. "Do you think it'll bloom soon?"

Neville's expression brightened slightly at the question. "If we keep this up, maybe," he commented. "It'll take a bit longer, but I think it's on the right track."

You smiled, encouraged by his confidence. "Good. I'd like to see it bloom. It sounds like it'll be worth the wait."

"It will," Neville confirmed with certainty. Then, realizing he might've sounded too eager, he added more quietly, "At least, I hope so."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound breaking the stillness in the greenhouse. "You know a lot about plants, Neville. I think we're in good hands."

His smile grew, a little less hesitant this time. "Thanks," he said again, his voice full of gratitude.

The classroom was abuzz with the sound of parchment rustling and students murmuring as they shuffled to turn in their projects.

You stood beside Ron at the front of the room, handing over your poster to Professor Snape — who was substituting Defense Against the Dark Arts once again. It depicted a large, eerie boggart transforming into a spider, complete with handwritten notes about the Riddikulus spell scrawled neatly along the edges. Your and Ron's essay rested on top of it, his handwriting messy but legible contrasted with the neat penmanship of the poster.

"Surprised a Weasley could turn something like this in," Professor Snape commented with a sneer, his dark eyes glinting as he examined the poster. The disdain in his tone made it clear the compliment — if it could even be called that — was backhanded at best.

"...Thank you?" You replied, your voice hesitant as it came out more like a question.

Ron's face turned a furious shade of red as he muttered under his breath, "What in the bloody hell?" He stepped aside alongside you, his shoulders tense as the next pair approached the desk to turn in their work.

As the two of you made your way back to your desks, Ron suddenly let out a nervous chuckle. "Y'know, when Lupin assigned us together, I thought it'd be a disaster."

You arched an eyebrow at him, trying to gauge whether he was joking or not. "Gee, thanks, Ron. That's encouraging..."

"No, no," Ron stammered, waving his hands in front of him as if trying to physically backpedal. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, avoiding your gaze. "I mean, I thought I'd mess it up, not you. You're... well, you're good at this sort of thing. Always seem to have your head together."

You couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips as you slid into your seat. "Thanks, I guess?"

Ron hesitated, shifting awkwardly before sitting down beside you. His ears flushed red again as he blurted out, "You used to intimidate me, y'know?"

The confession caught you completely off guard. You froze mid-motion, then turned to look at him, disbelief etched across your face. "What?"

"Yeah," Ron admitted, his voice quieter now. "When we first started the project. You're always so quiet and... well, smart." He gestured vaguely, as though trying to encapsulate something intangible. "It made me feel like a bit of a prat, to be honest."

You blinked, torn between amusement and discomfort. "That's... surprising to hear," you muttered, finally chuckling softly, settling on both emotions. "You don't seem intimidated now."

Shrugging, the corner of Ron's mouth began to lift into a sheepish grin. "Guess I got used to it. You're not so bad once you start talking."

"Gee, thanks again," you replied dryly, rolling your eyes, though the smile on your face betrayed your amusement.

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, students began streaming into the corridors. You gathered your things and were about to head out the door when Harry caught up to you, his blue eyes warm beneath his glasses.

"Hey," Harry greeted, his voice slightly hesitant but warm. "You heading to Transfiguration now?"

"Yeah," you replied, shifting the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder.

"Want some company?" He asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he glanced over your shoulder to Ron and Hermione, who were already by the doorway.

"Sure," you agreed, offering a small smile in return.

The four of you fell into step together, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the castle corridors. Harry stayed close by your side, while Ron walked on your other side, Hermione on the other side of Ron as she and Ron quietly debated something about the essay.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Harry leaned slightly toward you, lowering his voice. "You did a good job on that poster," he mentioned, the quiet tone making the comment feel almost conspiratorial.

"Thanks..." You replied, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. "You didn't think I'd drop it on my way to class or something?"

Harry laughed softly, the sound light and genuine, and you noticed his earlier nervousness starting to fade. "No, nothing like that. But I know Ron can be... well, let's just say group projects aren't always his strong suit."

You chuckled at that, shaking your head. "He wasn't so bad, honestly."

Harry smiled, his gaze dipping briefly to the floor as though he was summoning the courage to continue. "That drawing spell you used was also brilliant," he added, glancing at you.

The compliment caught you off guard, and you felt your cheeks warm slightly. "Thanks," you said simply, the corners of your lips tugging upward in a shy smile.

The rest of the walk was quiet, though not unpleasant. Harry's presence beside you felt steady, and when you reached the Transfiguration classroom, he gave you a quick smile before heading to his seat with Ron and Hermione.

Your eyes scanned the room for a moment before heading toward your usual seat next to Lavender. She was already there, perched on the edge of her chair, flipping through the pages of her Transfiguration textbook.

"Hey," you greeted as you set your things down, earning a bright smile from her.

"Hey!" Lavender replied, her tone as bubbly as ever. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as they flickered briefly toward the door. "So... I saw you walking in with them." She gave a pointed nod toward the back corner, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were settling into their usual seats.

"Yeah, I guess," you said, shrugging as you pulled out your notes. "They were heading this way from Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Harry offered to walk with me."

"That's good. So, definitely no more avoiding?" Lavender asked, her grin widening.

"No more avoiding," you agreed with a chuckle, earning a laugh from her.

"That's good. You're way too nice to keep to yourself so much," Lavender noted with a contagious smile.

"Thanks, I think," you muttered, raising an eyebrow at her teasing tone.

"I mean it!" Lavender continued, her expression earnest. "You've got this way about you. You're quiet, sure, but you're smart and funny when you let people get to know you. I'm so glad that I sat next to you on the first day 'cause I've gotten to know a bit about you these past months. It's good to see you putting yourself out there a bit."

Your cheeks warmed at her kind words, and you busied yourself with straightening your notes. "I don't know about all that, but... I'm trying," you admitted softly.

Lavender smiled warmly, resting her chin on her hand. "Well, keep doing what you're doing. And let Harry walk you places more often, it's adorable."

You gave her a look of mock exasperation, but before you could respond, Professor McGonagall entered the classroom, her presence immediately silencing the buzz of conversation.

"Good morning, class," McGonagall said crisply, her sharp gaze sweeping the room. "Today, we'll be continuing our study of owl-to-opera glasses Transfiguration. Please prepare your wands and focus. I expect your full attention."

The classroom was instantly alive with the sound of students rummaging through their bags for wands and notes. Lavender gave you a quick, encouraging smile before turning to face the front.

The Astronomy Tower was as quiet as it had ever been, the kind of silence that wrapped around you like a thick, damp cloak. The only sound was the occasional rustle of parchment and the scratch of quills as you and Blaise worked. It was just the two of you, and for reasons you couldn't quite pinpoint, the stillness only seemed to make you more anxious.

Blaise sat at the desk across from you, leaning slightly forward as he reviewed the textbook in front of him. His eyes skimmed the pages with ease, the quiet confidence he exuded making your own nervousness feel even more pronounced. You tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but your mind kept drifting.

Why had Blaise chosen you to be his partner?

It was a question that had lingered ever since the assignment had been announced. You were quiet and reserved — hardly the kind of person anyone would seek out for a group project, let alone someone as self-assured as Blaise.

Sure, you had gone to Hogsmeade with him and his friends, but it was only one time, and you barely talked to him then.

You couldn't help but feel like you were out of place, fidgeting with your quill as you glanced nervously at the star chart you had barely started.

Blaise's voice cut through your thoughts. "You're quiet tonight."

You glanced up, startled by his sudden observation. "Huh?"

He smirked, a small, amused curve of his lips. "You're always quiet, but tonight you're especially... well, distant." His eyes lingered on you for a moment, and for the first time since you'd sat down, you felt the full weight of his gaze.

"I'm... just thinking," you muttered, though it didn't feel like a very convincing answer. You could feel your face heating up under his scrutiny.

Blaise tilted his head slightly, his gaze never wavering. "You're somewhat more talkative around Enzo, Mattheo can get a few words outta you 'cause he's so aggravating, but only Theo seems to elicit a few joking remarks. Other than your friends, of course, but that's because you've talked with them for longer."

Your eyes widened at the directness of his words. You weren't sure what to say, so you opted for silence.

He chuckled softly, and you could hear the faintest trace of curiosity in his voice. "It's surprising, isn't it? You seem to be so comfortable around Theo despite never having talked to him before Hogsmeade." His tone was light, almost teasing, but there was something else behind it, a flicker of something more thoughtful.

You couldn't quite meet his eyes. "He kind of reminds me of myself," you admitted in a whisper.

His smirk faltered for a brief moment and his eyes sparked with a hint of familiarity, your words contradicting something Theodore had said. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out under the desk. "Really?"

You nodded.

The silence stretched between you again, heavy and uncertain, but Blaise didn't seem bothered. His attention had drifted back to the constellation chart in front of him, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

As you fidgeted, Blaise's thoughts wandered to the one question that had been bothering him for days. He had partnered with you for a reason, but it wasn't simply because of the project.

Blaise had always been a keen observer, and he couldn't help but notice the subtle way Theodore's eyes lingered on you when you were around — sometimes Theodore himself didn't even notice. There had to be something about you that intrigued him. It wasn't like him to be so interested in someone like you.

Theodore was sharp and perceptive — he didn't just get distracted by anyone despite the entourage of girls that followed him. So, Blaise found himself wanting to know what was so special about you. What made you stand out in a way that held Theodore's attention?

But of course, Blaise wasn't one to ask directly. He knew better than to get too close to something that might turn out to be messy. He just wanted to know why his best friend seemed so fascinated with you.

Pansy had cornered him in the common room, her arms crossed and her usual smug expression on her face. "So, Blaise," she began, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "What made you pick (Y/n) as your partner?"

Lorenzo had been standing nearby, listening in with a bemused smile. "Yeah," he added. "I thought we agreed not to bombard her. Y'know, let her get used to us slowly?"

Blaise had only shrugged, looking as disinterested as possible. "I figured it would be good to befriend her for your sake, Enzo," he mentioned casually, with a flick of his hand, as if the explanation was obvious.

Pansy's eyes narrowed slightly, though she seemed satisfied with the answer. "Huh. Well, I guess that makes sense."

Lorenzo had nodded, though there was still something begrudging in his expression.

As Blaise turned to rush up the stairs to his dorm, Mattheo and Draco watched Theodore jump off the couch beside them to follow Blaise. When Theodore entered the dormitory, he already found Blaise standing there as if he expected to be followed.

Theodore had raised an eyebrow, his usual skeptical expression in place. "You're lying," Theodore said, his voice flat but knowing. "You're not doing this for Enzo. You've got your own reasons."

"You seem pretty defensive about this," Blaise calmly commented, his eyes observing the irritated twitch in Theodore's brow. "Does it have something to do with her?

"What?" Theodore muttered in confusion, shaking his head. "She and I couldn't be any more different."

His thoughts snapped back to the present as he glanced over at you again, still sitting across from him, unaware of the internal turmoil he was sorting through. You had returned to your star chart, completely absorbed in the task, and for a moment, Blaise let his gaze linger on you.

To him, there was absolutely no reason for Theodore to be so interested in you.

But, alas, his question was still unanswered.

The classroom was buzzing with chatter, most of it revolving around the upcoming Gryffindor-Hufflepuff quidditch match. It seemed like everyone had an opinion on who would win, and the usual suspects were making sure their voices were the loudest.

"Better watch yourselves, Diggory," Fred called out, a mischievous grin on his face. "We've got a whole arsenal of new plays this time. You won't know what hit you!"

Cedric, resting his head in the palm of his hands, raised an eyebrow. "New plays, huh? You sure you can even remember the old ones?"

The room erupted in laughter, with George pretending to clutch his chest in mock offense. "You wound us, Diggory! Truly."

Rowan chimed in, smirking. "Careful, Ced. Don't give them too much grief before we've even wiped the pitch with them."

Angelina rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Big talk for someone who doesn't even play."

"Hey! I play!" Rowan shot back, his eyes narrowing into a joking glare as he placed a hand over his heart. "I play in spirit."

"Right, let's focus on the important bit," Oliver interrupted, his voice calm but carrying a commanding undertone.