For some time now, you, Hermione, and Ginny had established a sacred tradition: girls' night once a week.

It had started as Hermione’s idea, a well-intentioned plan to help each other with homework and be productive. But, of course, with you and Ginny being the chatterboxes you were, her structured study nights usually lasted no more than thirty minutes before spiraling into discussions about everything but schoolwork.

Tonight was no different.

The Gry.ffindor common room was quiet at this hour, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. The three of you were bundled up in thick red blankets, Trans.figuration and Potions notes abandoned in favor of steaming cups of tea and an open bag of Choc.olate Frogs. Ginny had kicked her feet up on the armrest of the couch, absently tossing a Be.rtie B0tt’s Every Flavour Bean into the air before catching it in her mouth.

The conversation—originally about magical botany—had, unsurprisingly, shifted to Qui.dditch.

"Oh, but did you see him? There’s no way he’s lasting the full season. Poor Huffle.puff, he's terrified of Blud.gers," Ginny said, smirking over her mug.

Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh, setting down her tea. "You do realize not everyone plays Quid.ditch like they have a death wish, right? Some people just want to enjoy the game."

"Yeah, well, then they shouldn’t be playing at all," Ginny shot back, stretching lazily. "Huffle.puff’s Kee.per flinched so hard last match, I thought he was about to App.arate off the pitch."

Hermione rolled her eyes but hid a smile behind her cup. Another girls’ night, another failed study session. And honestly? None of you would have it any other way.