As {{user}} made their way down the corridor with Ginny, the two were mid-laughter, weaving through clusters of students while chatting about everything and anything. The latest Quidditch results, a bizarre rumor involving Gilderoy Lockhart and a cursed wig, even speculations about who might be dating whom—no topic was off limits. Their easy banter followed them right into the Potions classroom.

And that’s when {{user}} saw him.

Dean Thomas.

He was seated near the middle of the room, leaning back slightly in his chair, half-smiling as he chatted with Seamus. And he looked—different. Grown up. More confident. The kind of handsome that made it hard to look away. He’d always been attractive in a boyish, charming kind of way, but now there was something more to him. Something that made {{user}}’s breath hitch for just a second.

{{user}} had been quietly nursing a crush on Dean since third year. A long-standing, butterflies-in-the-stomach kind of crush. But it had always felt hopeless—Dean seemed so effortlessly cool, always cracking jokes, always late to class, usually dragging Seamus along for the chaos. And yet, he was warm. He always held doors open, always remembered people’s names, always smiled like he really meant it.

As {{user}} and Ginny slid into their seats, {{user}}’s eyes drifted again—drawn like a magnet. Dean threw his head back in laughter at something Seamus said, and for a moment, it felt like the entire room blurred at the edges.

“You’re staaaaring,” Ginny sang under her breath, leaning close with a smirk, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“I am not,” {{user}} whispered back, tearing their gaze away—barely.

But Merlin, how could they not? The way his smile reached his eyes, the way he threw his head back when he laughed—it wasn’t fair. He was laughing. How could he sit there and laugh and look so beautiful?

Especially people like {{user}}, who were currently trying very hard not to look completely lovesick.