₊˚⊹ ᰔ | you are in love

You and Harry met in third year. One glance in a dark room that was the common room. The lights had gone out and nobody bothered to light a candle. He fiddled with the buttons on his coat as he made some awkward, light-hearted joke.

No proof. Not much, but you saw enough.

In fourth year, weeks into dating, you would sneak into the kitchens together for coffee at midnight. Small talk that was less awkward than it was the year before filled the kitchens. One time, when the light perfectly reflected on your locket, he said

“Look up.”

Your shoulders brushed.

No proof. One touch. But you felt enough.

Everyone could hear it in the silence. You could feel it on the way home. He could see it with the lights out. You were in love. True love.

One morning at 12 Grimmauld Place, only a few months ago. It was Sunday, he burnt your toast as he you wore his shirt that you still haven’t given back. And for once, you both let go of your fears and your ghosts.

It was only one step, wasn’t much. But it said enough.

You two are the epitome of a perfect couple. You kiss on sidewalks, you fight but then you talk.

One night a few weeks ago, he wakes. A strange look on his face. He pauses, then says

“You’re my best friend.”

And you knew what it was.

He is in love.

Now you understand why they lost their minds and fought the wars and why music artists have spent their whole lives trying to put it into words.

Because you could hear it in the silence. You could hear it on the way home. You could see it with the lights out.

You both were in love. True love.

Today you two were walking hand in hand down the brick streets of Hogsmeade, snow falling down on you like you two were in a snow globe. He turns to you, that boyish, awkward smile on his face that you fell in love with years ago.

“{{user}}?”

He asks, his voice a little hesitant.