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𝕿HE LIBRARY WAS CLOAKED IN ITS USUAL SILENCE, broken only by the faint rustling of pages and the occasional creak of chairs shifting. You and Theodore were tucked away in a secluded corner, the table between you cluttered with open textbooks, parchment, and your carefully written notes.

Sliding the parchment toward him, you leaned slightly across the table, your fingers brushing the edge as you gestured to the text. "Alright, try this one," you said, your tone encouraging but firm. "It's a basic application of the Wand-Lighting Charm. If you can explain why the Lumos spell is more effective with a slight flick rather than just a point, you'll nail tomorrow's quiz."

Theodore leaned closer, his focus etched into the slight furrow of his brow. The flickering light of the library lanterns caught the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the intensity in his blue eyes as he read over the notes you'd prepared. His quill moved in quick, deliberate strokes, the faint scratching sound adding to the tranquil atmosphere. His usual detached demeanor seemed to fade in these moments, replaced by a quiet attentiveness that was rare for him.

After a few minutes of writing, he paused, resting his elbow on the table and twirling the quill between his fingers. His voice broke the silence, casual but with a distinct undertone of curiosity. "So, how's the Astronomy project going?"

The unexpected question made you pause mid-note, your quill hovering above the parchment. You glanced up at him, your head tilting slightly as you tried to gauge his intention. "It's... going fine," you replied, your tone cautious. "Why?"

Theodore shrugged, the motion deliberately nonchalant. He began tapping the end of his quill lightly against the table, a soft rhythm that contrasted with the sudden tension in the air. "Just wondering. It's kind of odd that you and Blaise partnered up together."

Your frown deepened at his words, your quill lowering as you fixed him with a questioning look. "And that matters to you because...?"

Theodore's quill hovered mid-tap, the rhythm breaking as he faltered under your gaze. The flickering light of the library cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the slight tension in his jaw and the guarded look in his eyes. "It doesn't," he muttered, though his words felt rushed, like a hastily constructed wall. His tone was measured, even, but the way his fingers tightened slightly around the quill betrayed his discomfort.

As you arched an eyebrow, you studied him for a moment longer. "Really?" Your voice carried a quiet challenge, cutting through the silence. "Because it seems like you care."

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he forced out a short laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I don't," he repeated, his tone firm but lacking conviction. His gaze darted briefly to the table, then back to you, as if hoping you wouldn't notice the faint flicker of hesitation.

You gave him one last skeptical glance before shrugging and turning your attention back to your notes. "If you say so," you replied lightly, though the knowing edge in your tone lingered in the air.

As you began explaining the finer points of the Wand-Lighting Charm again, your voice clear and steady, Theodore found himself unable to focus. The words you spoke blurred together, becoming a soft hum in the background of his thoughts.

Why did he care?

The question gnawed at him. It didn't make sense, not logically. Who you partnered with, who you worked with, who you laughed with — it wasn't his business. And yet, the thought of Blaise sitting beside you, leaning in to share whispered insights or catching your small, rare smiles, sent a prickle of something sharp and unwelcome through him.

Theodore's mind lingered on Blaise's sly smirks and calculating glances. He knew his best friend well. Blaise Zabini wasn't someone who did things without a reason. If Blaise was spending time with you, it wasn't just for the sake of a school project. That thought twisted uncomfortably in Theodore's chest, an unfamiliar pang he didn't care to analyze too closely.

He blinked, forcing himself back to the present. You were leaning over the table, pointing to a diagram with a slight furrow in your brow, completely engrossed in your explanation. Theodore tried to match your focus, but his thoughts remained stubbornly entangled in that lingering, nagging question:

Why did it matter so much to him?

You looked up from your notes, catching Theodore's gaze — his eyes unfocused, staring blankly at the parchment in front of him. His quill lay forgotten in his hand, the tip hovering just above the paper. The usual sharpness in his expression had dulled, replaced by a quiet intensity that made you pause.

His brow furrowed slightly as you spoke, and for a moment, you almost wondered if he hadn't heard you.

"Hm?" He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts.

"You okay?" You repeated, genuinely concerned about his lack of awareness.

"Yeah, fine," Theodore told you as if it was more of an automatic response than something he truly meant.

"You don't look fine," you hummed. You gave him a small, almost teasing smile, hoping to break through whatever had caused the brief tension that had settled around him.

The smirk that tugged at the corner of Theodore's mouth was quick and almost rehearsed, but you could see the subtle unease behind his expression. "Why? You care?"

With a small raise of your brow, you leaned back just slightly, narrowing your eyes skeptically as you studied him. The easy banter didn't quite disguise the curiosity that swirled within you. "I heard about you and Indie," you mentioned casually, though there was no mistaking the sharpness in your tone.

Theodore blinked, and for a moment, his usual composure seemed to falter. His lips parted in surprise, and his eyes flickered down to his notes, as though searching for something to say. "Oh."

You continued, keeping your gaze steady on him as you flipped a page in your notes. "She said you broke it off." You let the words hang in the air between you, keeping your expression casual, though there was a hint of curiosity behind your gaze.

"Yeah," Theodore confirmed slowly, his tone shifting just slightly, becoming more reflective. He leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers idly against the table. "I thought about what you said, and I figured I shouldn't lead her on..."

You nodded, absorbing his words, but your gaze never wavered from him. The casual nature of his admission didn't fool you — there was more to it. He wasn't the type to do something simply because someone else told him to, and you could sense that there was something deeper behind his decision — something he wasn't saying.

"Thought about what I said?" You repeated, leaning forward slightly, a small but pointed edge to your voice. "What exactly did I say that made you rethink things?"

Theodore's fingers stilled, but he didn't immediately respond, as if weighing his words carefully. His gaze flickered to the side, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability in his posture — the slight slump of his shoulders, the hesitant tension in his jaw.

"You told me to stop being such an idiot," he finally admitted, his voice quieter than usual, tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. "I guess it stuck with me."

You couldn't help but smile faintly, the corner of your lips tugging upward. "Well, I wasn't wrong," you teased lightly, but the playful tone didn't quite mask the concern that lingered in your eyes. "You didn't really seem to know what you wanted. With her, or... well, with anything."

Theodore met your gaze again, his expression unreadable, but something flickered in the depth of his eyes. "And now I do?" He asked, his voice almost challenging, but you could hear the undercurrent of uncertainty beneath his words.

You didn't answer immediately. Instead, you sat back in your chair, contemplating the question. "I don't know," you replied quietly, your tone thoughtful. "Maybe it's not about knowing what you want. Maybe it's about figuring out why you want it."

Theodore blinked, clearly surprised by your response. He opened his mouth as if to say something but paused. The tension between you, which had been almost imperceptible before, now felt more pronounced, as if the conversation had shifted.

You both sat there, surrounded by the quiet hum of the library, as the weight of the conversation hung in the air. You shifted in your chair, brushing your hair back from your face and glancing down at your notes. "Anyway, I guess we should get back to studying," you commented, breaking the moment with a hint of humor, trying to ease the tension. "Back to the Wand-Lighting Charm, yeah?"

As you continued to explain the charm, Theodore leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes on you. He didn't understand why he cared so much about what you did, and it was tearing him to pieces that he didn't understand why this was happening to him.

"So, uh, what're you reading?" Neville asked with a shy smile, his voice a little hesitant. Nodding with his head, he gestured to the novel that you had stacked underneath your notebook.

You couldn't help but smile back. "'The Hunchback of Notre-Dame' by Victor Hugo."

"Can I see?" He inquired curiously, slowly reaching for the book though not touching it until you gave him permission. When you nodded, he gently slid your notebook off the top and picked the novel up. Flipping to your bookmarked page, Neville read aloud one of the phrases you were aware that you highlighted, "Love is like a tree: it grows by itself, roots itself deeply in our being and continues to flourish over a heart in ruin. The inexplicable fact is that the blinder it is, the more tenacious it is. It is never stronger than when it is completely unreasonable."

"It's a tragic story that deals with the contrasts between outward appearances and inner virtues, the impact of societal rejection, and the struggles of love, power, and fate," you explained, watching Neville return the book to the table before moving to join you next to the Mimbulus Mimbletonia.

"It sounds like an interesting story," Neville noted, giving you a smile so that you'd know his comment was genuine.

"It is," you agreed with a slight hum.

Neville carefully adjusted his gloves, his concentration focused on the task of mapping the plant's growth for the project. You mirrored his actions, your hands brushing gently against the rough leaves of the Mimbulus Mimbletonia as you jotted down some notes.

"How'd you ever get so good with Herbology, Neville?" You inquired, genuinely curious as you observed him arranging his notes on the table.

"I don't know, actually..." Neville gently adjusted one of the Mimbulus Mimbletonia's leaves, a concentrated look on his face. "I guess it's just 'cause I was around plants a lot growing up. I think plants are easier to understand than people..."

You looked over at him, tilting your head slightly. "Yeah?" You asked, setting your quill down and turning toward him.

"Yeah," Neville continued, eyes fixed on the plant. "They don't complicate things. They don't yell or get mad. You just have to take care of them, give them what they need, and they grow. They'll be there for you." He paused for a moment, glancing over at you, and then added, "People... they're a bit harder to figure out."

You chuckled softly, sensing a bit of vulnerability in his words. "I get that. Plants don't expect much from you, nor do they judge or scold you." You met his gaze, and for a moment, there was a quiet understanding between you two. "I think it's easier to focus on something like that rather than something so... unpredictable like people."

Neville smiled, a slight flush creeping up his neck, and he went back to working on his plant. As you both continued your work, you noticed how much Neville had opened up to you over the course of the project. He had gotten more outspoken, but he was a bit quieter than usual right now.

Neville, for his part, was very aware of the way you'd become more comfortable around him. He'd always admired your intelligence, your calm demeanor, and the way you seemed to approach everything with such thoughtfulness. Today, though, he realized how much he appreciated it.

You continued to work in silence for a few minutes, but something in the air had shifted. Neville's thoughts were a little more tangled now, his focus divided. He kept glancing over at you, almost as if he was processing something. It was subtle, but there was an undeniable pull he felt whenever you spoke or looked at him.

"Hey, um, do you need help with that?" He asked after a beat, his voice a little quieter than usual. He noticed you trying to adjust the Mimbulus Mimbletonia's branches, but it seemed to be more complicated than either of you expected.

"Uh, yeah, I'm not sure how to... " You trailed off, your hand half-reaching toward the plant.

Neville quickly moved closer, his hands brushing yours for just a moment as he helped reposition the plant, his touch gentle. The slight contact made his heart flutter unexpectedly, and when his eyes met yours, there was something unspoken there — something he couldn't quite place, but it made the air between you both seem to thrum with an energy that wasn't there before.

Neville's smile lingered for a moment, his gaze softening as he studied you. There was a softness in the way he looked at you now, a feeling that made him want to be close to you.

And in that moment, Neville realized something. The feelings he had for you were no longer just simple admiration and friendliness. There was something deeper now, something that made his heart beat a little faster whenever you spoke to him, something that made him feel a little less nervous when you smiled in his direction. 

He liked you.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the one thing in his life that felt simple.

Until it wasn't, when he remembered that Dean Thomas liked you first.

The clock tower was quiet except for the rhythmic ticking of the massive gears above. You and Ginny sat on edge by the Clocktower's glass face, the golden light of the setting sun streaming through the windows and casting warm hues across the room.

Ginny had her knees pulled up, her arms wrapped around them as she leaned back against the cool stone. She was unusually fidgety, her fingers drumming lightly on her knee, a habit you'd come to notice when she wasn't quite her usual confident self.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," Ginny mentioned suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. She turned her head to look at you, her fiery hair catching the light like embers. "About trying out for the Gryffindor quidditch team next year."

You blinked, surprised but intrigued. "Really? As a chaser or something else?"

"Yeah," Ginny replied, her tone both determined and nervous. "I mean, I've been practicing with my brothers. Well, the twins mostly, and they think I'd have a good shot at it."

You smiled warmly. "That's great, Ginny. You'd be brilliant on the team."

Ginny's cheeks reddened slightly, and she glanced away, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Thanks," she muttered, then quickly added, "I'm not getting my hopes up too much, though. There are bound to be loads of people trying out."

"You should," you told her confidently. "Getting on the team isn't just about skill, though I'm sure you have that. It's about passion and how much you want it. And knowing you, I'm pretty sure you'd give everyone else a run for their galleons."

Ginny let out a small laugh, her usual confidence flickering through her nervous demeanor. "You make it sound easy."

"It's not," you admitted with a chuckle. "But being on a house team... It's amazing. I'm not one for attention, but the rush when you're up there, working with your teammates, hearing the crowd cheer... There's nothing like it. It especially helps when I like all my teammates too."

Ginny looked at you, her blue eyes filled with admiration and something softer, something she wasn't ready to put into words. She shifted slightly, her fingers toying with the hem of her jumper. "What was it like for you? Trying out for Ravenclaw?"

"Terrifying," you replied honestly. "I was so nervous I thought I was going to fall off my broom during the drills, but once I was up there with Kyra, everything else faded away. When I made it, it felt like I'd finally found a group of people that supported me through trials and errors."

Ginny nodded slowly, absorbing your words. "I guess it's about pushing through the nerves, then."

"Exactly," you agreed. "And trust me, you've already got an edge. You've been practicing with Fred and George, right? If you can keep up with those two, you're more than ready for a house team tryout."

She laughed, the sound lighter now. "They don't go easy on me, that's for sure."

"Good," you teased. "They shouldn't. It'll only make you better."

For a moment, Ginny didn't say anything, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The golden light of the setting sun reflected in her eyes, making them shine. "I just... I really want this," she mumbled softly. "Not just to be on the team, but to prove to myself that I can do it. That I'm not just someone who gets overshadowed by my brothers."

Your expression softened. "You're already so much more than that, Ginny. Anyone who knows you can see it. But if making the team is what you want, I'll help you however I can."

Ginny turned to you, her smile shy but grateful. "Thanks. That... That really means a lot."

As