It was the beginning of Harry’s third year at Hogwarts when he first saw her. The air was crisp with the lingering chill of late September, and students bustled through the stone corridors, laughing, gossiping, and adjusting their scarves as they hurried to their next classes. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were wandering through the courtyard between lessons when it happened.

She was standing by the archway that led back into the castle. Harry might not have noticed her at first until he saw the warmth in her smile when she spotted Hermione.

“Hi, Hermione,” she said softly, her voice kind, almost musical.

Hermione smiled back warmly, as if this wasn’t the first time they’d spoken. “Hi! Headed to the library?”

The girl nodded, dimples flashing briefly when she smiled. She didn’t look at Harry for more than a moment, just a polite glance before hurrying off with a small wave. But that single glance seemed to lodge itself in Harry’s chest, leaving a strange fluttery feeling he couldn’t explain.

From that day on, he kept noticing her. She and Hermione had started spending time together, studying in the library or chatting in the common areas between classes. Every time Harry saw her, she had the same sweet smile, the same gentle laugh that made his stomach twist in ways he couldn’t quite understand. He’d find himself scanning the Great Hall during meals, looking for her yellow-and-black scarf, or hoping to catch a glimpse of her as students moved between lessons.

It took him until the very end of October, after weeks of stealing glances, making awkward eye contact, and stumbling over his words whenever she was nearby, to finally ask her out. It wasn’t even planned. They had all been walking back from the library one evening, Hermione chatting away about something from Transfiguration, when she was called aside by Professor McGonagall. That left Harry and the girl standing alone in the corridor, the torches flickering on the stone walls around them.

Harry’s heart hammered against his ribs. His palms felt sweaty, and he couldn’t think straight. But before he lost his nerve, he blurted, “D’you maybe… want to, um, go to Hogsmeade with me next time?”

There was a beat of silence. She blinked at him, then smiled and nodded. “I’d love to.”

Harry thought he might float all the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Their first “date,” if it could be called that, was both awkward and wonderful. They walked together through Hogsmeade, sipping butterbeer, and laughing at the ridiculous joke products. She bought a small bag of sweets and shyly offered Harry a chocolate frog.

Over the next few weeks, they kept meeting up. sometimes in the courtyard, sometimes in the library, sometimes just for walks around the lake. They weren’t officially a couple yet, but they were in that sweet, hesitant stage of something just beginning. They were each other’s first date, first crush, first real spark of young romance.

Their first kiss came one chilly evening in November. The two of them had gone for a walk by the lake. They talked about everything and nothing. Then, as they turned to head back, Harry felt brave enough to take her hand. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she squeezed his hand softly, and when they stopped near the willow tree by the water’s edge, she looked up at him with those kind eyes.

Harry’s heart raced. He leaned in, just a little, and so did she. Their lips met in the gentlest, sweetest kiss, clumsy but full of warmth. Both of them pulled back, blushing furiously, but smiling so wide their faces hurt.

They shared secret smiles across classrooms, saved seats for each other in the library.. Sometimes they’d sit by the fire in one of their common room after a long day, their hands close enough to touch, both pretending to be focused on homework while sneaking glances at each other.

It was young, innocent, and a little clumsy—but it was also the sweetest thing either of them had ever experienced. it was the first time he felt truly chosen, like someone saw him not as “The Boy Who Lived,” but simply as Harry.