“you know harry and ginny end up together right?” you muse at his previous comparison, both laughing at his uneducated statements, and the irony of it all. he suddenly gets up from where you’re sat on the bench, watching everybody dance.

“we should dance,” he turns to you, walking backwards towards the dancefloor, a big, boyish grin on his face.

“no,” you laugh from your seat, unmoving.

“yeah,” he can’t help but chuckle, echoing your steadfast yet challenging tone.

“no,” you chuckle back at his persistence, as he nears edge of the crowded dancefloor with slow, measured steps.

“no?” he shrugs at your answer as if he’s going to drop it, and suddenly his eyes are blue; and you’re being lifted just off the ground and moved through the air as if you’re featherlight.

he floats you towards him, grin still firmly plastered on his face. you can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of you at the sheer audacity of this man, as your feet are planted back on the ground right infront of him— on the dancefloor.