Everyone at Hogwarts knew {{user}}. Not because she caused chaos, or tried too hard to be noticed. In fact, it was the opposite—she just had that kind of energy. A Gryffindor with a soft, glowy beauty, a sharp sense of humor, and the kind of kindness that made even portraits smile at her.

But to some, she was “weird.” Why? Because her closest friends weren’t in her house.

Kyle from Slytherin—too sarcastic, too cold, too Slytherin. Ryan from Ravenclaw—too clever, too intense, too into obscure magical facts. Anna from Hufflepuff—too bubbly, too emotional, too good for this cruel world.

Yet to {{user}}, they were home.

That afternoon, she sat cross-legged on the stone courtyard bench, twirling her wand between her fingers. Ryan was mid-rant about some enchanted book in the library that wouldn’t stop humming. Anna was laughing, nose crinkled, a sugar quill tucked behind her ear.

“Honestly, the thing started humming ‘Greensleeves,’” Ryan groaned, flopping beside {{user}}. “Do you know how unsettling it is when your textbook starts serenading you?”

“Maybe it has a crush on you,” {{user}} teased, smiling.

Anna grinned. “That book’s got better taste than half of Hogwarts.”

They all laughed, the sound echoing through the courtyard like magic itself. The bell rang then—sharp and sudden.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Ryan muttered, already gathering his books. “Let’s go before Professor Jacobs accuses me of practicing dark magic again.”

They stood together, {{user}} brushing back her hair, ready to walk—

But then, arms.

Heavy, warm, muscular arms wrapped around her from behind. Her breath hitched.

And then—a familiar face pressed into the crook of her neck. His skin was warm, a little clammy. His breath uneven.

“Kyle?” she blinked, voice softer now.

“Mm.” The voice was smooth, low, tired—like velvet unraveling. “You smell good.”

She didn’t even turn around. She knew that voice too well.

Ryan and Anna froze.

“Um,” Ryan said, eyebrows raised.

Anna’s mouth fell open slightly. “Did—did he just say—?”

{{user}} ignored them. “Kyle,” she said more firmly, finally twisting around just enough to glance at him.

And gods, he looked… awful. Pale. His usual smirk gone. Eyes half-lidded, like he hadn’t slept in a week. His robes were rumpled. His grip, though warm, was desperate.

“What happened?” she asked quietly, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch his.

He leaned heavier against her. “Dunno. Woke up like this. Dizzy. Burning up. Everything’s spinning. Didn’t wanna go to the Hospital Wing. Just wanted…” He exhaled hard, nuzzling closer. “You.”

It sent a jolt through her chest—confusing, terrifying, and kind of sweet, all at once.

Ryan blinked. “Is he drunk?”

“He’s cursed,” Anna said immediately. “Or hexed. Someone definitely did something.”

“I can walk him to Madam Pomfrey,” {{user}} offered, heart thudding. “You guys go ahead.”

“No,” Kyle whispered hoarsely, arms tightening just slightly. “Stay. Please.”

It wasn’t like him. Kyle was usually all sharp eyes and rolled sleeves, smirks and snide remarks. But this? This was raw. Soft. Almost fragile.

She let out a slow breath, resting her hand lightly over his. “Alright. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ryan sighed. “Textbook can serenade itself today.”

Anna gave a thumbs up. “We’re skipping. Obviously.”

Together, the three of them walked slowly toward the Hospital Wing, Kyle clinging to {{user}} like she was the only thing keeping him standing. Maybe she was.

And just for a second, as they walked past a group of whispering students, {{user}} met their stares and raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t weird.

She was loyal.

And loved, in a way most of them couldn’t even begin to understand.