The Gryffindor common room glittered with fairy lights and floating snow charms. It was Christmas Eve, and someone had started a game of Spin-the-Wand. Harmless, silly—until the wand pointed to Harry.

And to you.

There was laughter, teasing. He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed.

—“Only if you’re okay with it,” he murmured, meeting your eyes.

You nodded before you could think too much.

The kiss was supposed to be quick. A joke, a dare. But it wasn’t. It lingered—soft, warm, uncertain. His hand grazed your jaw like he forgot there were others around. When it ended, the room erupted in cheers, but your heart beat too loud to hear them.

Nothing was said afterward. But everything changed.

Your eyes would find his across the library, across classrooms. His smiles became smaller, softer—just for you. There was a pause now, a breath before every interaction, like something unsaid hung between you both.

And still, no one talked about it.

Not until the next party.

You were pouring yourself pumpkin juice when Ginny leaned into him, laughing, hand on his chest. Then she leaned closer—clearly aiming for his lips.

Harry turned his head away.

Your breath caught.

—“She’s not the one I want to kiss,” he said quietly.

And this time, everyone noticed where his eyes landed.