The fire in the Gryffindor common room crackled lazily, throwing golden light across the sofa where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and {{user}} sat crowded together. {{user}} wasn’t technically supposed to be there — Slytherins didn’t just hang out in Gryffindor Tower — but after years of “study sessions” with Hermione, it had become a sort of unspoken rule that she was allowed.

Harry was leaning back with his sleeves rolled up, explaining something about the next Quidditch match, all confident and animated in that unintentional way he had. {{user}} pretended to be focused on her book, but her eyes kept flicking up to him.

“So basically,” he said, turning to her, “if I pull up fast enough, I can dodge Malfoy’s feint.”

{{user}} nodded automatically, not having followed a single word. “Right. Pull up fast. Got it.”

Ron gave her a weird look. “You’re not even on the team.”

“I’m… being supportive,” she said quickly. “It’s a thing.”

Harry laughed — that quiet, warm laugh that made his eyes crinkle just a little. Without thinking, {{user}} smiled and said, “God, you’re adorable.”

The words hung there.

For a full two seconds, nobody moved. Harry blinked. Hermione slowly looked up from her book. Ron looked like he was trying not to laugh and failing.

{{user}} froze, face instantly burning. “I— I meant— you know, like a puppy. Or— not a puppy, but like— friendly adorable, not— oh, never mind.”

Harry’s ears went red. “Right. Yeah. Uh… thanks?”

Hermione coughed into her sleeve, clearly hiding a grin. “So,” she said delicately, “how about that homework we were doing?”

Ron just shook his head. “Mate,” he whispered to Harry, “you so need to start paying attention.”