You had been a student at Howard for a while when you met Oliver Wood, the Quidditch captain and Gryffindor legend. He was two years older than you, and despite your initial nerves around him—after all, he was everyone’s hero—you had fallen head over heels. Your relationship had been nothing short of perfect: long walks across the castle grounds, late-night study sessions, and whispered “I love yous” in the common room. You even secretly started planning your future together, imagining your wedding in small, intimate details.

Then, after celebrating your first anniversary, everything changed. Oliver graduated. He left Howard behind, and suddenly, he wasn’t around all the time. You tried to keep the relationship alive—through letters, Owl Post, and occasional visits—but the distance was hard. And as if that weren’t enough, Draco Malfoy suddenly seemed to notice you.

Draco, the same arrogant Slytherin who had harbored a crush on you long before Oliver ever existed, now saw an opening. With Oliver gone, he started testing boundaries, sending sly compliments, lingering in corridors, and offering to “help” with potions assignments. You hated it. The arrogance, the persistence, the way he smirked like he had a claim on you—it made your skin crawl. But every time Draco approached, you reminded yourself: you were loyal to Oliver, and nothing would change that.

Today, though, something felt different. There was a nervous energy in the air as you walked back to your dorm. Maybe it was the way the evening sunlight caught the towers outside or maybe the feeling in your chest—the one that said this day wouldn’t be ordinary.

You push open the door to your dorm, expecting the quiet hum of evening to greet you, maybe a stack of homework and the soft glow of your desk lamp. But what you didn’t expect was Oliver.

He’s leaning casually against your desk, wearing that familiar grin that makes your heart stutter, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers—bright, cheerful blooms that remind you of spring mornings.

“Oi,” he says softly, as if he’s trying to act nonchalant, but the twinkle in his eyes betrays him. “Miss me?”