┏ ೋღ : 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂. ೋღ ┓

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞-𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗:
𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰

┗━━ ೋღ : ©-fictophilic : ೋღ ━━━┛

𝕾OFT HUMS OF LAUGHTER AND CONVERSATION BUZZED AS YOU, Ginny, Luna, Cho, Marietta, and Kyra lounged together on the stone benches in the courtyard. The early afternoon sun cast dappled light through the swaying branches overhead, creating shifting patterns on the cobblestones. Luna sat cross-legged on the grass at your feet, her platinum hair catching the light as she absently twirled a daisy between her fingers. She hummed softly, seemingly lost in her own world, yet smiling faintly as the conversation swirled around her.

Ginny leaned back against the bench with her arms spread casually, her eyes sparkling as she animatedly recounted her latest adventure with Fred and George. "And just as Filch turned the corner," Ginny informed, her voice alight with mischief. "The dungbombs went off! You should've seen his face, it was like he'd bitten into a lemon. We had to run faster than we ever did just to get away."

Kyra shook her head, her laughter ringing out like a melody. "You're mad for even going along with it. Fred and George are bad enough on their own, but you too?"

"Mad but brilliant," Ginny replied with a smug grin, tossing her fiery hair over her shoulder. Cho chuckled beside you, while Marietta smirked, her skepticism showing despite her amusement.

The warmth of the moment was shattered when a sharp, mocking voice sliced through the chatter.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

The group fell silent, heads turning toward the intruder. The atmosphere shifted in an instant, the light-hearted joy giving way to tense curiosity.

You turned to see Alexia Gardner striding into the courtyard with an air of confidence, her entourage trailing behind like a shadow. Flora and Hestia Carrow flanked her, their identical sneers sharp enough to cut glass. Terence Higgs and Kenneth Towler loomed at her sides, their arms crossed, while Nick Alas, Sally Birchgrove, Marcus Belby, and Mandy Brocklehurst formed an imposing wall behind her, their smug expressions a mirror of Alexia's haughty demeanor.

Alexia's sharp eyes immediately locked onto Kyra, her lip curling in disdain. "A mudblood playing pretend with her betters," she drawled, her voice dripping with condescension. "How quaint."

The light-hearted atmosphere evaporated as Kyra's smile vanished, her fists clenching so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her voice trembled with fury as she hissed, "Say that again."

Your eyes narrowed, staring daggers at Alexia with undeniable anger. Your hands twitched, aching to land a few blows across Alexia's face.

Alexia tilted her head with a mockery of sympathy, her tone laced with venomous sweetness. "Oh, did I offend you? Don't take it personally. It's not your fault you were born into filth."

Before anyone could react, Ginny shot to her feet, her fiery hair catching the sunlight as she held out her wand. Her voice was low and dangerous, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Take it back, Gardner."

Alexia's smirk widened as her gaze shifted to Ginny. "Ah, the blood traitor herself," she sneered. "Always so predictable, rushing to defend the undeserving. You're an embarrassment to wizardkind, Weasley."

Kyra took a step forward, her rage boiling over, but Marietta surged with her, her face flushed with anger. "You have no right—" Marietta began, but before she could finish, Cho and Luna quickly intervened. Each grabbed an arm, attempting to pull them back.

You remained seated, forcing yourself to stay composed even as your hand inched toward your wand, hidden beneath your robes. You were itching to curse Alexia, burn her hair, break her nose — but alas, you had to keep your composure so you wouldn't get in trouble.

Alexia's gaze flicked to you, and a twisted grin spread across her face. "And you, (Y/n)," she purred, her tone mocking. "Always so smug, hanging around Adrian as if you're someone important. Do you honestly think he cares about you? You're just a convenient distraction."

The tension in the courtyard was suffocating, every muscle in your body tight with the effort to appear calm. Ginny stood rigid, her jaw clenched as her wand remained gripped tightly in her hand. She took a step forward, but Luna, ever the voice of reason, gently tugged her back with a soft touch. "Not worth it," Luna murmured, her dreamy voice oddly grounding in the charged atmosphere.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to maintain a steady exterior. Tilting your head slightly, you met her gaze with a polite smile that didn't reach your eyes. "Funny," you hummed, your tone light yet pointed. "I didn't realize you paid so much attention to my friendships. Almost flattering, really..."

For a brief moment, Alexia's smirk faltered, her confidence shaken. But she quickly recovered, her eyes narrowing. "Careful," she warned, her voice like ice. "You wouldn't want to overstep."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," you replied smoothly, your voice dripping with a false sweetness. "After all, I wouldn't want to ruin your little show." You gestured lightly toward Alexia's entourage, your hand lingering in midair as if presenting a particularly unimpressive display.

Alexia let out a scoff, her lips twisting into a smirk as she flicked her perfectly styled hair over her shoulder. "Let's go," she snapped, her voice cutting through the heavy silence. Without hesitation, her entourage fell into step behind her like a flock of well-trained birds, their sneers lingering in your direction as they passed. The click of their shoes against the stone echoed in the courtyard until they disappeared into the castle's shadows.

Ginny exhaled sharply, her frustration escaping in a low growl. "She's lucky I didn't hex her into next week."

"Same here. Who does she think she is?" Kyra muttered and nodded in agreement, her fists still clenched.

You finally allowed your hand to slip away from your wand, the warmth of the wand handle still imprinted on your palm. "Violence isn't worth the detentions," you noted softly, though your tone betrayed the restrained anger simmering beneath.

"Next time, I'm not holding back," Marietta mentioned, her arms crossed and lips set in a thin line.

"Next time, let me handle it," you replied, your voice steady and calm, though the weight of the confrontation still lingered in the pit of your stomach. Cho placed a gentle hand on Marietta's shoulder, silently willing her to let go of her anger.

Ginny muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she finally relaxed her grip on her wand. "She's just so... ugh."

"She thrives on reactions," Luna interjected softly, twirling the daisy in her hands with an air of unbothered serenity. "The best thing we can do is not give her the satisfaction."

Cho gave a nod of agreement, her expression carefully composed. "Luna's right. She wants a fight, but we don't have to give her one."

The group collectively exhaled, the weight of Alexia's presence dissipating like smoke in the wind.

From the far side of the courtyard, Blaise leaned against a stone column. His arms were crossed in a posture of effortless composure, dark eyes scanning the unfolding drama with detached curiosity. The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips as he watched you handle Alexia Gardner with sharp, calculated precision.

'Mattheo may be right about (Y/n) being a snake,' Blaise mused, his gaze narrowing slightly as he observed the way your words cut with just enough subtlety to sting without causing a scene. There was something undeniably cunning about you — a quiet edge that you kept hidden beneath a veil of decorum. Most wouldn't notice it, but Blaise had an eye for such things.

The corners of his mouth quirked upward as you disarmed Alexia with that sickeningly sweet smile, leaving her retreating with less of her usual arrogance. Blaise's smirk deepened. It wasn't that you just had wit — it was the way you wielded it so effortlessly, as if it were second nature to you.

With a soft exhale, Blaise straightened, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his robes. The lingering tension in the courtyard seemed to cling to the air, heavy and electric, but he paid it no mind. Without a word, he turned and strode away, his movements unhurried and deliberate. As he disappeared through the archway, his thoughts lingered briefly on you, the faint smirk still playing at his lips.

'Might just need to have a talk with Mattheo,' Blaise thought.

The warm, earthy smell of soil and blooming plants filled the Greenhouse as you and Neville carefully placed the potted Mimbulus Mimbletonia onto Professor Sprout's desk along with your notes and essays. The plant's grayish-green, knobbly surface glistened under the sunlight streaming through the glass panes, its pulsating boils giving it an oddly charming appearance.

 Professor Sprout had a look of approval on her face as she examined the Mimbulus Mimbletonia standing proudly on the table in front of you and Neville. "Excellent work, you two," she beamed, inspecting the plant with a careful eye. "It's thriving! I've rarely seen a Mimbulus Mimbletonia grow so vibrantly in the hands of students."

Neville's cheeks turned a shade of red, and his fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of his robe as he looked down at the plant, avoiding eye contact with the professor. "Thank you, Professor. It's, uh, all thanks to (Y/n), really. She has a great touch with plants."

You smiled, shaking your head modestly. "Neville did most of the work, honestly. He's a natural."

Neville's eyes darted to you in surprise, and for a moment, you could see his chest swell with pride, though his nervousness remained.

Professor Sprout chuckled heartily, looking between the two of you. "Well, I'd say you make an excellent team." She patted the Mimbulus Mimbletonia affectionately before moving on to check another group's progress.

As she walked away, you and Neville remained by the table, the air between you filled with a shared sense of accomplishment. Both of you couldn't help but exchange satisfied grins.

"I think that went well," you sighed, leaning back slightly on the edge of the workbench, brushing a bit of dirt off your hands.

Neville nodded in agreement, but his smile faltered slightly as he glanced down at the plant. He couldn't help but feel disappointed with the project coming to an end, despite how pleased he was with the outcome. "Yeah, it did. You were brilliant, though," he mentioned, his voice quiet, almost reverent. His eyes widened as he fixed his words. "I mean, uhm, you're always brilliant."

The words hit you with a slight surprise, and you tilted your head, catching his gaze with your own puzzled look. "Thanks, Neville. But really, you deserve most of the credit," you replied, brushing off his praise with the same quiet modesty that seemed to come naturally to you.

Neville swallowed hard, his throat dry. The way you always deflected praise, the way you never truly acknowledged your own talent — it was something that had always made him admire you even more. His heart ached, but not just because of that.

It was because he wanted to tell you just how much he admired you. Not just for your skill with plants, but for your kindness, your quick wit, and the way you always made everyone feel like they mattered.

But he couldn't bring himself to say any of it. Not now.

Not when Dean liked you too.

He tried to push the thought aside, but it lingered, making the air feel heavier around him. He'd noticed it too — the way Dean would glance at you when you weren't looking, the subtle way he'd go out of his way to make you laugh, to lighten the mood in the room when things got tense. Neville couldn't help but feel the pang of jealousy, even though he knew it was irrational. Dean was charming, confident, and... he was everything Neville wasn't.

Neville's gaze flickered to the ground, and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He couldn't blame Dean, though. How could he? You were wonderful.

In the back of his mind, Neville couldn't help but wonder if you might notice him the way you noticed Dean — if you'd ever see past the nervous, unsure exterior he always put on.

But for now, all he could do was stand beside you, feeling the weight of his own silence.

As the two of you cleaned up your workspace, Neville stole another glance at you, the light catching in your hair as you tucked a stray strand behind your ear. His chest tightened.

"Are you okay?" You asked, noticing his faraway expression.

Neville was startled, nearly dropping the tool in his hand. "Oh— Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just, um, thinking about how lucky I was to have you as a partner."

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment, and you laughed softly. "The feeling's mutual, Neville."

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. As you turned to rinse out a pot, Neville let out a quiet sigh.

'She'll never like me the way I like her,' he thought. 'And that's okay.'

Isn't it?

But deep down, he wasn't so sure.

The clatter of chairs and rustling of parchment filled the room as Professor McGonagall dismissed the Transfiguration class. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting warm patterns on the stone floor. You hurriedly gathered your books, carefully tucking your notes into your bag before slinging it over your shoulder.

"See you later, (Y/n)!" Lavender called out brightly, her voice carrying over the noise as she fell in step with Parvati and Padma. They were already giggling about something that had happened during class. Lavender threw you a cheerful wave, and Parvati turned back briefly to flash you a grin.

You returned the wave with a smile before slinging your bag more securely over your shoulder. Making your way toward the door, the sound of your footsteps blended with the chatter of your classmates.

As you neared the exit, you noticed Harry standing just a few feet away, lingering near the doorway with Ron and Hermione. The three of them were engrossed in conversation, their voices low but animated. Hermione gestured emphatically with her hands as she spoke, clearly explaining something in detail, while Ron looked half-interested, half-confused.

Harry, however, wasn't paying much attention to the conversation. His gaze had drifted away from his friends, and his blue eyes caught yours the moment you stepped into view.

"Hey, (Y/n)," Harry greeted, his voice cutting through the air around you as Ron and Hermione paused their conversation to glance in your direction.

"Hi, Harry," you replied, your tone polite but warm. You felt a flicker of curiosity at the attention, but you didn't linger on it. "Hi, Ron. Hi, Hermione."

Hermione gave you a welcoming smile. "Hi, (Y/n)."

"Hey," Ron greeted with an infectious grin you knew to be common with the Weasleys.

"We're heading to Divination now. Want to walk with us?" Harry asked, his blue eyes meeting yours with an encouraging smile. You blinked in mild surprise, momentarily caught off guard by the casual invitation. Glancing at Hermione and Ron for confirmation, you found Hermione giving you a polite nod, her expression as composed as ever. Ron, on the other hand, flashed a wide grin that reached his freckled cheeks.

"Yeah, it'll be more fun with you along!" Ron exclaimed, his tone genuine and upbeat.

Your lips curved into a smile, feeling warmth bloom in your chest at the easy friendliness they offered. "I'd like that," you replied softly. Adjusting the strap of your bag, you fell into step beside them as the four of you started walking toward the Divination Tower.

The hallway was bustling with students heading to their next classes, and your little group weaved through the crowd with practiced ease. The clatter of shoes against the stone floor and the murmur of conversations echoed around you.

"I think I'd rather face a Blast-Ended Skrewt than Divination," Hermione mentioned dryly with a roll of her eyes. You chuckled, caught off guard by her frankness. "All this nonsense about predicting the future," Hermione continued, shaking her head. "What's next, reading symbols in smoke?"

Ron snorted, barely containing his laughter. "Honestly, wouldn't put it past Trelawney. Last week, she told me my greatest trial would come with a broken shoelace."

Your laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. "Really?" You asked, your voice light and amused.

"Oh, yes," Ron replied, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Clearly, I'm destined for a life of peril and... wardrobe malfunctions."

Harry chuckled beside you, shaking his head. "She said my greatest challenge would be untangling the threads of fate. I think she meant the stitching coming loose in my quidditch gloves."

The group erupted into laughter, the sound echoing through the corridor. You couldn't help but feel a little more at ease with each passing moment. Despite not having to have talked with them for very long, it felt natural.

Or maybe your social anxiety had just been slowly dissipating over the months.

Ron snorted, his expression equal parts frustration and amusement. "Well, I wouldn't mind some advice on how to make my way through Potions class. The stars are obviously not on my side when it comes to Snape."

You couldn't help but grin at his dramatic tone, a chuckle escaping your lips. "Don't we all wish for that?" You teased. "But hey, you never know. Maybe Trelawney will give you a glimpse of the future where Snape's in a better mood."

The mental image made Harry stifle a laugh, while Hermione let out a faint snort of her own, though she quickly masked it with a shake of her head. Ron, however, was