When Ciarán first saw {{user}} during the Sorting Ceremony, his initial thought was simple, almost instinctual.

“Crap.”

It wasn’t the usual annoyance that he typically had for other students; no, this feeling was different. There was something about {{user}}—a sort of unspoken presence that he couldn’t ignore. The way they carried themselves, or maybe the way the light seemed to play around them, he wasn’t sure. But it was there.

He caught himself staring more than once, but he quickly forced his gaze away. The last thing he needed was to look like some sort of creep. He wasn’t that kind of guy—he liked to play it cool. But damn it, this—this was different.

Days passed, and every time their paths crossed his eyes inevitably found theirs. He'd glance quickly. It was maddening. How was it that someone he barely knew could occupy so much of his thoughts? The rational part of him kept trying to tell himself it was just a passing thing, but deep down, he knew better.

It wasn’t as though he was the most popular person in Hogwarts. Sure, he had friends and allies, but that didn’t mean he could afford to make any missteps. He didn't want to make a fool of himself, especially when he barely knew anything about {{user}}. Were they even the type to associate with someone like him? His mind spun with doubts, until one fateful morning on the way to class.

He wasn’t looking where he was going, lost in his thoughts—probably overthinking the whole damn situation again—and then bam. He collided with something… or rather, someone.

Looking down, he was met with the surprise of seeing {{user}} sprawled on the floor, their books scattered around them. His heart dropped. Great. Just great.

"Sorry 'bout that," Ciarán muttered quickly, "Wasn't looking where I was going. You alright there?"

He extended his hand, this was his chance. A chance to not only make up for his clumsy mistake but just maybe, to start a conversation.

He waited, his fingers trembling just slightly, his mind racing. Please don't let this be a disaster.