You never really talked to Harry all that much.

You knew him, obviously — how could you not? He was the Boy Who Lived, Ron’s best friend, the center of half the chaos at Hogwarts… but for you, he was always just Harry. Quietly brooding. Awkward in a way that made sense. Loyal to a fault. Brave even when he didn’t want to be.

And always near.

Because you were Hermione’s best friend. Which meant, inevitably, always being around them.

And whenever Ron and Hermione started drifting into their usual rhythm — the bickering that turned into tension, the tension that turned into oh Merlin are they going to kiss or kill each other — you and Harry were left behind. Standing off to the side. Waiting for it to pass.

Third wheels. Two of you. Spinning quietly next to each other.

It was strange, how natural it felt.

At first, it was just small talk. “Don’t they do this every week?” “I’m giving it ten minutes before Hermione hexes him.” “Want to go sit over there instead?”

Then it was silence — the comfortable kind. Sitting next to each other on the grass near the Black Lake, watching Ron and Hermione argue over homework, neither of you saying a word. Just existing. Side by side.

Then came the glances.

One day in the library, you looked up from your book and found him already watching you. Not in that obvious way teenage boys do. In that quiet, tilted-head, soft way — like he hadn’t even realized he’d been staring.

You didn’t say anything. You just looked back.

After that, it got worse. Or better. You weren’t sure.

You’d pass him in the corridor, and he’d smile. Not a big grin — just the corner of his mouth, like it was a secret. Just for you. You’d sit near him in the Common Room, and somehow your knees would end up touching. Neither of you moved.

Once, your fingers brushed his when you handed him a quill. Once, he tucked a loose piece of parchment behind your ear. And once — after a particularly ridiculous Divination lesson — you both burst into laughter so sudden and loud you got kicked out of class.

Tonight, you’re sitting in the Common Room again. Ron and Hermione are nowhere to be seen — some patrol duty excuse, maybe. Doesn’t matter.

It’s quiet. A fire crackles. Most of the castle is already asleep.

You feel him sit beside you before you even look up.

“Hey,” he says, voice low.

“Hey.”

Neither of you say anything for a moment.

Then you shift just a little closer. Your thigh rests against his now. Neither of you move away.

“I like being around you,” he says suddenly. “I just… wanted to say that.”