Harry Potter:
The glow of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room cast long shadows across the walls as you sat curled up in one of the armchairs, a book in your lap that you weren't really reading. Your mind was elsewhere, drifting back to the Yule Ball. It had been a magical night, one that you'd never forget. Even now, a week later, you still felt a flutter in your chest whenever you thought about it.
Harry had been so nervous when he asked you to be his date, and you couldn't have been happier to say yes. The two of you had been growing closer for months, your friendship evolving into something more, and the ball had been the perfect setting for your first official outing as a couple. But despite the many stolen glances and lingering touches, you hadn't kissed yet. The moment just hadn't come.
You glanced over at Harry, who was sitting across from you, pretending to work on his Potions homework. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his quill scratching against the parchment, but every so often, you'd catch him looking up at you with that soft, almost shy smile that made your heart race.
Just as you were about to return your focus to your book, the portrait hole swung open, and in walked Ron, looking slightly disheveled from his Quidditch practice. He spotted the two of you immediately and made his way over, dropping into the seat beside Harry with a loud huff.
"Oi, Harry, you up for a game of Wizard's Chess?" Ron asked, rubbing his hands together as if preparing for battle. He hadn't noticed the way Harry's eyes darted nervously to you before answering.
"Uh, maybe in a bit," Harry replied, shifting awkwardly in his seat. "I've still got some work to finish."
Ron raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious. "Since when do you care about Potions? Snape's not going to go any easier on you just because you suddenly start handing in homework on time, you know."
You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. Harry's newfound interest in completing his assignments had less to do with Potions and more to do with spending time in the common room with you.
"Well, you know, figured it was about time I started putting in some effort," Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant. But the faint blush creeping up his neck gave him away.
Ron looked between the two of you, his eyes narrowing. "Hang on a minute... what's going on here?" he asked, his voice filled with suspicion.
You froze, feeling a sudden surge of panic. You and Harry hadn't exactly been hiding your relationship, but you hadn't told Ron yet, either. You weren't sure how he'd react to his best mate dating his sister.
"Nothing's going on," you said quickly, too quickly. Ron's eyes widened, and you knew he wasn't buying it.
"Yeah, right. You two have been acting weird for weeks." Ron crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as if daring you to deny it. "What's going on?"
You exchanged a nervous glance with Harry, who looked just as unsure as you felt. This wasn't exactly how you'd planned on telling Ron, but there was no backing out now.
"Ron...," you began, taking a deep breath, "Harry and I... well, we've been spending a lot of time together. More than usual."
Ron's expression darkened, realization dawning on him. "You're joking," he said, though it was clear from his tone that he knew you weren't.
"No, we're not," Harry said quietly, finally meeting Ron's gaze. "I really like your sister, Ron. We've been dating for a few weeks now."
Ron's face went through a series of emotions—shock, disbelief, and then something else, something you couldn't quite place. He stared at you, then at Harry, and for a moment, you were certain he was about to explode.
