-Mine-( Harry Potter x Reader)

Chapter 14

"Imperfect for you messy, completely distressed but I'm not like that since I met you"

                                                                        -Ariana Grande-

                                                                     -Imperfect for you-

Y/n's POV

The Gryffindor common room that morning was warm, firelight spilling across stone walls and casting dancing shadows. Snow swirled lazily outside the windows, coating the grounds in a sparkling blanket of white. I wrapped my hands around my mug of hot chocolate, letting the heat seep into my fingers, trying to push the restlessness out of my chest.

Hermione sat cross-legged on the couch, her wand tracing lines on a Hogsmeade map. "We have to leave early if we want to avoid the worst crowds," she said, glancing up at me with her usual determined glare.

Ron, sprawled on the rug, groaned. "We should leave early for butterbeer, not for maps and crowds."

Harry, as always, was calm and watchful, glancing at me every few seconds. "You look distracted," he said softly. "Thinking about Lupin's lesson?"

I nodded. "A little. The dementors are still on my mind. And Black's on the loose... it's hard not to think about it, the thought of Harry not safe..."

Hermione squeezed my hand. "Just stay close to us, okay?"

I smiled faintly, grateful. Safety, for now, was in numbers.

(Time Skip)

By mid-morning, we trudged through the crisp snow toward Hogsmeade. The streets were crowded, lights in shop windows twinkling, the smell of chocolate and fresh pastries filling the air. I kept close to Hermione, who was checking off the shops she wanted to visit, while Ron tugged toward Honeydukes. Harry walked near me, calm and steady.

"We are going to go into Honeydukes for a minute will you be alright Y/n?" said Hermione 

"Yea I'll be fine you guys go" I said with a smile on my face 

Everything felt normal. Until it wasn't.

I rounded a corner near the fountain, and my heart skipped. A group of older students—Slytherins, no less—were there, laughing cruelly.

"Look who it is," one sneered. "Little Gryffindor Wild, all alone. What's the matter? Scared?"

My stomach twisted. I stepped back, clutching my bag tightly. "I-I'm fine," I stammered.

"Or maybe she's shivering in that cute little skirt of hers," another added, smirking. "Doesn't seem very tough."

Heat rose to my cheeks—not from embarrassment, but fear. My hands shook slightly.

Before I could respond, a sharp voice cut through the cold air.

"Wild!"

I looked up, startled, and there he was—Draco Malfoy. His coat was perfectly buttoned, hair glinting in the sunlight. Wand in hand, posture calm and poised, eyes sharp and calculating.

"Back off," he said quietly but firmly. His gaze pinned the bullies in place.

One of them stepped forward, still sneering, but Draco's wand flicked, and a sudden gust of wind whipped snow into their faces, knocking them off balance.

"You don't get to treat her that way," Draco added, voice low, directed only at the group.

The Slytherins muttered curses under their breath and stomped away, glaring, but they didn't try again. Draco's eyes found mine for a moment—steady, protective, fleeting.