There was a darkness lurking on the edge of the horizon, a war to end all wars approaching. Lord Voldemort was returning, and there was nothing they could do but be prepared for when he did, no matter how many people were killed in the process.
...
In an ideal world, when the guy kisses the girl, the two end up together, caught and lost in a fantasy of love so blissful it could make even the worst situations in life just disappear. It was what had happened with Jess and Fred, and Millie and Cedric, and her parents, and in literally every single book she had ever read. Alyssa had had to remind herself several times in the past that life wasn't a fantasy and wasn't all love and rainbows, but with her being a literal embodiment of magic, attending a magical school, and seeing all her friends fall headfirst into a magical love around her, she was kind of hoping that the universe would have made a bit of an exception for her.
Apparently not.
Ever since the kiss by the firelight two weeks ago, Harry had been avoiding Alyssa like the plague, and she had been left in a state of confusion, hurt, and overwhelming insecurity at the fact that he couldn't even be in the same room as her anymore. And when he had to hang out with her due to them belonging to the same friend group, he always sat as far away from her as possible and did everything in his power to avoid any possible interaction at all.
It was like first year all over again, and Alyssa was hating the sudden switch in their relationship.
She had tried, of course, to talk to him and ask him what the hell she had done wrong, but he always made an excuse about leaving and didn't even spare her a glance as he all but sprinted out of the room. No one else had said anything about it, so she shrugged it off. Maybe she was just blowing things out of proportion, overreacting for nothing. Maybe it was the stress of the upcoming Quidditch Match that was finally getting to him. She could say she blamed him, exactly. Jess had been distancing herself from everything as well and throwing one hundred percent of her effort into her training.
The night before the big match, all usual pursuits were abandoned in the Gryffindor Common Room and even Hermione had put down her books. "I can't work. I can't concentrate." She muttered nervously as she tapped her foot constantly on the ground.
There was a great deal of noise surrounding them. Fred, George, and Jess, a slightly awkward group due to recent developments in the feelings department, were dealing with the pressure by being louder and more exuberant than ever. Oliver Wood was crouched over a mini model of a Quidditch pitch in the corner, prodding little figures across it with his wand and muttering to himself. Angelina and Katie were laughing at Fred, George, and Jess's jokes, and Harry was sitting with Ron, Hermione, Millie, and Alyssa, sitting as far away from the latter as humanly possible.
"You're going to be fine." Millie reassured him gently, despite looking positively terrified herself. "You've got a Firebolt!" Ron chimed in.
Hermione, Ron, and Millie were in their own bubble of conversation, and Alyssa found her eyes trained on a fidgeting and obviously panicking Harry, who was desperately avoiding eye contact. She felt the ghost of his kiss wash over her like a wave, and a storm of sadness erupted in her mind. "Harry, can we ta-"
"Team! Bed!" Oliver stood up abruptly, and the Gryffindor team got to their feet. Harry scrambled into an upright position and darted past Alyssa, who caught his wrist desperately to stop him. "Please." The pleading tone in her voice was enough to make him tense as if in pain, but he shook his head none-the-less and tore his arm out of her grasp, making his way up the stairs.
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