After The War : ** Shadows and Light ** :harrypotterxreader:

**Chapter 3: Forbidden Glances**

The clash of wands, the thunder's roar,

In darkened night, you stand for more.

With courage fierce, you fight as one,

A battle fought, but not yet done.

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*"In the clash of wands, courage is born; through darkness, our light will be sworn."*

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The days following your first patrol together passed in a blur, but for Harry, something had shifted. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about you. It was maddening, really—this constant, nagging pull that tugged at his thoughts whenever you were nearby. Every time you laughed in the Great Hall or your voice carried through the common room, Harry's mind zeroed in on you.

He couldn't explain it, not even to himself. Sure, you were his friend, and he'd always liked you. But this was different. This was more than friendship, more than admiration for the way you handled yourself during the war. It was something deeper, something that made his heart race in a way that left him feeling both excited and terrified.

"Mate, you're staring again," Ron muttered beside him during breakfast one morning, his mouth full of toast.

Harry snapped his head back to his plate, heat rushing to his face. "I wasn't staring," he said quickly, though the lie felt weak even to him.

Ron raised an eyebrow, giving Harry a knowing look. "Sure. Whatever you say."

Across the table, Hermione glanced up from her book, her eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked between Harry and you. She hadn't said much about Harry's newfound distraction, but Harry could tell she was piecing it together. Hermione always noticed things before anyone else did.

"Are you going to talk to her?" Hermione asked, her tone matter-of-fact, as though she were discussing a homework assignment instead of Harry's increasingly complicated feelings.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "Talk to her about what?"

Hermione sighed, setting her book down and looking at him as though he were particularly dense. "You like her, Harry. It's obvious. You might as well tell her."

Harry's stomach twisted at the thought. Tell you? That was the last thing he wanted to do. How could he, when he wasn't even sure what he was feeling? Besides, you were friends. What if telling you ruined everything?

"I don't even know if it's... like that," Harry muttered, pushing his food around his plate, though he knew that wasn't entirely true. It *was* like that. It had been like that since the moment your hand brushed his during patrol.

But before Hermione could say anything else, a loud crash echoed through the Great Hall, cutting through the morning chatter. Everyone turned toward the source of the noise—a group of first-years who had somehow managed to knock over an entire row of goblets, sending juice spilling across the table. The commotion drew a few laughs and groans from nearby students, but Harry's eyes narrowed as he noticed something strange.

The goblets hadn't just tipped over. They had flown, almost as if someone had cast a spell. But no one had their wands out, and the first-years looked just as confused as everyone else.