The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet for a Saturday night, the usual buzz of chatter and laughter replaced by the soft crackle of the fire. You sat on one of the plush armchairs, a book open in your lap, though your eyes weren’t exactly on the pages. Ginny was across from you, perched on the armrest of the couch, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulder as she doodled absentmindedly in the margins of her Charms textbook. The golden glow of the firelight danced across her features, making her look even more radiant than usual.

“You know,” she said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. Her voice carried that familiar hint of mischief that always made your heart skip. “For someone who claims to be a fantastic multitasker, you’re doing an awful job of pretending to read.”

Your cheeks flushed as you looked up, caught in the act. “Am I that obvious?” you admitted with a sheepish grin, closing the book and setting it aside.

“Painfully,” she teased, her brown eyes twinkling. She slid off the armrest to sit beside you on the floor, her shoulder lightly brushing yours. “So, what’s really on your mind?”

You hesitated for a moment, not entirely sure how to put it into words. Ginny had a way of making you feel both completely at ease and utterly vulnerable all at once. “I guess I was just... distracted,” you finally said, your gaze flickering to hers.

She tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Distracted, huh? By what, exactly?”