It was Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts, and the castle practically buzzed with it.

Pink and red streamers floated lazily near the enchanted ceiling. Heart-shaped confetti drifted down the corridors. First years squealed over anonymous notes. Even the suits of armor had been charmed to hum love songs under their breath.

You had barely finished breakfast when George caught your hand.

“Meet me in my dorm before lunch,” he’d said casually, like he hadn’t just made your stomach flip. “And try not to overthink it.”

Which, of course, meant you overthought it the entire morning.

By the time you reached the boys’ dormitory, your heart was beating far too fast. The door was slightly open. Light spilled out from inside.

You pushed it open.

And froze.

On the small table in the center, red rose petals were scattered everywhere. Candles flickered in a perfect heart, their warm glow making the whole room feel softer, almost private. In the middle sat a glowing pink crate with letters that read:

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY BABY

Inside it was a bouquet of deep red roses, a plush heart pillow, a box of sweets, a box with lego flowers tucked between everything like it had been carefully placed, and a neatly wrapped gift box tied with a red ribbon, resting right in the center like it was the real treasure.

There was even a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries beside it.

You hadn’t even noticed George standing behind you until he cleared his throat.

“Well?” he said casually. “Scale of one to ‘marry me immediately’?”

You turned to him slowly.

He was leaning against his bedpost like he hadn’t just outdone every romantic boy in the castle. He wore a t-shirt with the text “i love my hot girlfriend” on, his hair slightly messy and that infuriating smirk on his lips.

“You did all this?” you whispered.

He shrugged.

“Well, I did consider releasing a flock of enchanted pink fireworks that spelled your name in the sky…” he mused. “But Professor McGonagall threatened bodily harm.”

You laughed softly, overwhelmed, eyes scanning every detail again.

“You like strawberries,” he added quietly. “And I might’ve bribed the house-elves for extra chocolate.”

You looked at the wrapped gift inside the crate.

“And what’s that?” you asked.

George’s grin turned slower. Warmer.

“That,” he said, stepping closer until his fingers hooked gently in yours, “is for later. After you try the strawberries. And maybe after you tell me I’m the best boyfriend ever”