As the sun began its dramatic descent, setting the sky on fire with shades of orange and pink, Harry and his crew made their way toward the Quidditch pitch. The air was thick with anticipation, a mix of excitement, nerves, and the ever-present scent of broom polish. Harry, of course, had his prized Firebolt, the broom that practically screamed "I'm the best!" Jean, on the other hand, had Harry's old Nimbus 2000, which she held like it might suddenly take off without her.
Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione trailed behind them. Fred and George were already bickering over some prank they were planning, while Ginny and Ron were eager to practice for the Reserve team tryouts. Ginny had her eyes set on being a Chaser—or, if she could pull it off, a Seeker—and Ron was determined to be the new Keeper. They both clutched school brooms that looked more like beaten-up broomsticks than instruments of flying glory.
Hermione, being Hermione, had her nose buried in a book, but there was no way she wasn't watching every move Harry made, even if she tried to convince everyone that the book was the most important thing in her life. Her cheeks were a little pinker than usual, and Harry had caught her glancing at him with a smile every so often.
"Alright, Jean," Harry said, giving her a reassuring grin. "Flying's all about confidence and balance. Just relax, and trust the broom. Simple as that. Don't overthink it."
Jean, who was gripping the Nimbus like she was holding onto the edge of a cliff, tried to smile back, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Confidence and balance, got it," she muttered. "I'm totally not freaking out or anything."
Up in the air, Fred and George were already zipping around, showing off their Quidditch tricks like it was a casual stroll in the park. George shouted down, "Come on, Harry! Show Jean how it's done!" Fred swooped by, doing a barrel roll that would've made any daredevil proud.
Ginny, naturally gifted at flying, flashed Jean an encouraging grin. "You'll do great. Just follow Harry's lead. And if you crash, at least aim for something soft, like a pile of leaves. Or Ron."
Ron, with a broom over his shoulder, looked like he was torn between practicing or heading back to the common room for a nap. "Alright, Ginny, toss me the Quaffle. Let's see if I can actually block one of your shots without injuring myself."
Ginny chuckled, already taking a few steps back. "I'll try not to aim for your head this time, Ron."
Harry mounted his Firebolt with the grace of someone who'd been born on a broomstick and kicked off. "Ready?" he called to Jean, hovering just above the ground with his broom under control like a seasoned pro.
Jean hesitated, but only for a second. She nodded and swung her leg over the broom, trying to ignore the sudden fluttering in her stomach. "As ready as I'll ever be," she said, with a wobbly smile.
"Alright, here we go. One, two, three!" Harry counted down, and they both pushed off the ground.
Jean wobbled, just for a second, then steadied herself, her face lighting up with astonishment. "This is... amazing!" she exclaimed, the smile spreading across her face like she'd just discovered magic was real.
"See? Told you it'd be great," Harry called back, feeling a little too pleased with himself. Honestly, if flying wasn't so exhilarating, he would've sworn his heart was doing its own little victory dance. Maybe he should stop drinking so much pumpkin juice.
Fred and George shot by, whooping as they performed a synchronized barrel roll. It was so ridiculous it almost looked like they'd planned it—except they probably hadn't, because that was just how Fred and George operated.
Hermione, who'd pretended to be engrossed in her book, glanced up and clapped. "Great job, Jean!" she called, her voice a bit higher-pitched than usual. She gave Harry a quick glance too, one that made him feel like he'd been caught doing something he probably wasn't supposed to be doing.
Ginny tossed the Quaffle to Ron, who managed to awkwardly block it, nearly taking out a set of goalposts in the process. "Nice save, Ron!" Ginny cheered, a grin lighting up her face.
"Nice save?" Ron muttered, puffing out his chest despite his flustered expression. "I was totally in control there. Just needed a little bit of space to stretch my arms."
After a few more laps, Harry and Jean landed back on the grass. Jean's face was practically glowing, and Harry couldn't help but feel a little proud. "You were fantastic," he said, helping her dismount.
Jean beamed at him, her eyes still wide with excitement. "That was incredible, Harry. I actually flew! I'm a flyer now. This is definitely going to make me cooler."
Fred and George landed beside them, looking impossibly smug. "You sure you're not part Weasley?" Fred asked, waggling his eyebrows at Jean. "You've got some serious natural talent."
"Yeah, better than Ron was at it," George added with a cheeky grin, just to get under Ron's skin.
Ron, predictably, scowled. "Oi! I wasn't that bad. I just... had to work through my, uh, unique... style."
Hermione, who'd tucked her book under her arm, smiled at Jean. "You were wonderful. Really. And you're definitely ready for a spot on the team, if you're up for it."
Her eyes lingered on Harry for just a second, and Harry noticed the way she seemed to smile, but her gaze seemed to betray something more—like she was considering something a little deeper. Not that he had time to think about it. After all, he had more important things to focus on. Like making sure he didn't get smacked in the head with a Quaffle.
As they walked back toward the castle, the mood was light, full of jokes and laughter. Harry felt a warmth inside that wasn't just from the sun setting. There was something about being surrounded by friends—real friends—at Hogwarts that made everything seem less daunting. Sure, there were dark wizards out there, not to mention the looming exam schedule, but right now? Life was good.
Fred and George were deep into plotting their next big prank. "Okay, I've got it," Fred said, lowering his voice dramatically. "We sneak into Snape's office, and—"
"—replace all his potion ingredients with sugar and flour," George finished with a smirk, like this was going to be their next world-changing move.
Harry just shook his head, chuckling. "You two are going to get yourselves expelled one of these days."
"Expelled?" Fred asked, giving him a mock look of horror. "We're far too charming for that."
Ron shook his head, but he was grinning. "You're going to give Mum a heart attack, you know that, right?"
Ginny nudged Ron, teasing him. "As if you're any better, Ron. I saw you trying to get a shot off at Fred and George earlier. What was that, a sneak attack?"
"Just keeping them on their toes," Ron shot back, winking.
Jean and Harry walked side by side, stealing glances at each other whenever they thought no one was looking. It was one of those awkward but exciting moments, where they both knew there was something there but were too shy to actually talk about it.
As they reached the castle doors, Hermione gave them a knowing smile. She glanced at Ron and Ginny, who were already bickering about who would be the better Keeper, then turned her attention back to Harry and Jean. "You two looked great out there," she said, her voice calm but warm.
The sunset cast long shadows across the castle grounds, and in that moment, everything felt just a little bit brighter. Sure, they'd all face their challenges, but for now, they had each other—and that made all the difference.
—
The sun was setting over the Hogwarts grounds, casting everything in that warm, golden glow that made the castle look like it had been dipped in honey. The day's Quidditch practice had left everyone in that buzzed, post-flying euphoria, as if they'd just downed a gallon of pumpkin juice. They were heading back to the castle when they saw Luna Lovegood—a sight that was usually as surreal as finding a Hippogriff in a broom closet.
Now, Luna, of course, had never met a rule she couldn't sidestep. But today, she was taking it to the next level. She was strolling barefoot down one of the castle corridors, her long, blonde hair a tangled mess like she'd gotten caught in a particularly overenthusiastic broomstick accident. The only thing missing were the twinkling fairy lights that seemed to follow her around, just waiting to make the moment even more whimsical.
Ginny, always quick to jump into action, sped up to catch up with her. "Luna!" she called out, the concern in her voice barely masking her usual playfulness. "What are you doing walking around barefoot? Did your shoes fall victim to another hungry Nargle attack?"
Luna paused, her dreamy eyes lifting to meet Ginny's. "Oh, hello, Ginny. Hello, everyone." Her voice had that ethereal quality to it, like it was drifting in from another dimension. "I just wanted to feel the cool stone under my feet. It's quite grounding, you know. Like hugging a giant squid, but with fewer tentacles."
"Right," Harry muttered, squinting at the empty hall, wondering if Luna had just made a very solid argument for never walking barefoot anywhere again. "Sure, that makes perfect sense. Just like hugging a giant squid would."
Jean, who had been walking beside Harry, raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a mischievous grin. "I bet you're right," she said, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm, "you can't experience true wisdom without hugging a squid or two."
Luna, of course, didn't take offense. Instead, her smile widened, and she continued, unbothered by the fact that most people probably thought she was one giant mystery wrapped in a riddle and sprinkled with a bit of magical confusion.
"Do those Ravenclaw seniors keep giving you grief again?" Ginny asked, her tone suddenly serious as she slowed her pace, catching up with Luna.
Luna sighed, glancing at the ornate tapestries hanging from the walls—each one depicting some bizarre historical moment involving wizards who could apparently never quite remember how to dance. "Oh, not really," she said in that faraway way of hers, as if she were discussing the weather on a different planet. "They just don't understand. They think I'm odd for talking about Blibbering Humdingers and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. But honestly, I think they're the ones missing out."
Fred and George, who had apparently been lurking just out of sight (because of course they had), came up behind her, the grins on their faces stretching wide enough to probably take up all of the hallway if they tried. "Who's been giving you trouble, Luna?" Fred asked, his voice as serious as an exploding dungbomb. "We could give them a little lesson in manners."
"Yeah," George added, cracking his knuckles in that way that suggested the next prank would be one for the history books. "Maybe something with enchanted mops that follow them around and clean their faces. That would really teach them a lesson."
Luna smiled faintly at them, her dreamy eyes twinkling as if she was considering the possibility. "That's kind of you. But it's okay. They just don't know any better. Besides, pranks can be quite fun." Her gaze flicked over to the nearest suit of armor. "Perhaps we could turn their robes into Flutterby bushes next time."
Ginny rolled her eyes, though she was clearly trying not to smile. "Luna, you really shouldn't have to put up with that nonsense. You're a Ravenclaw. You're smart, creative, and just… amazing the way you are. No one gets to make you feel small. Not even with Flutterby bushes."
Jean stepped forward then, her tone soft but determined. "Luna, you should never apologize for being yourself. You've got a gift that most people couldn't even begin to comprehend. If they can't see that, it's their loss, and you should let them know it." She paused, offering Luna a smile that held a bit more warmth than usual. "And, who else would be reminding us about the Wrackspurts?"
Luna blinked at Jean, as if this was the most profound thing anyone had ever said. "Oh, you're right," she said, looking a little brighter. "Thank you, Jean. You're like a Thestral in a field of Puffskeins. Very rare and hard to find, but quite valuable when you do."
Ron, who had been quiet up until now, glanced at Harry, his face scrunched with a mix of confusion and concern. "You know what? I'm done with people picking on Luna. She's part of this school, and anyone who doesn't see that can deal with me and my brothers." He cracked his knuckles, looking just as ready for a fight as the twins. "Maybe they need a few lessons in Don't Be a Jerk 101."
Luna's smile stretched wider. "Thank you, Ron. You're all very kind. Kindness is like a warm cup of Butterbeer on a cold day. It makes everything better."
"I'll take your word for it," Ron muttered, though it was clear he was secretly pleased by Luna's words. "But if anyone gives you trouble, just let us know. We've got a few tricks up our sleeves."
Harry, who had been quietly observing the scene unfold like he was watching a particularly good play, suddenly felt something settle in his chest—a warmth that came from knowing these people had his back. He stepped up next to Luna, a rare, earnest smile pulling at his lips. "Luna, if anyone ever gives you trouble again, we're all here. We're your personal anti-bully squad, armed with wands, wisdom, and a few well-placed pranks."
Luna's eyes softened, and her voice dropped to a sincere whisper. "Thank you, Harry. You all are like the stars in the sky. Even if you can't always see them, you know they're always there."
As they turned to continue their walk back to the common room, Ginny dropped into step beside Luna, chatting animatedly about something only they would understand. Fred and George took up their usual positions on either side of Ron, with their heads full of new prank ideas. Harry glanced over at Jean, her smile making his heart do a little fluttery thing that he really didn't know how to explain. Jean gave him a small, encouraging grin, as if to say, You've got this, and Harry couldn't help but feel like, for the first time in a while, maybe everything would be just fine.
As they walked through the corridors, their laughter echoing off the ancient stone walls, Harry realized that this—this right here—was what Hogwarts was all about. A group of people, each weird and wonderful in their own way, who'd stick together through thick and thin, pranks and Wrackspurts included. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, the bonds between them all grew just a little stronger, lighting the way forward—no matter what chaos might come next.
—
As they shuffled into the Gryffindor common room, the familiar hum of chatter and laughter wrapped around them like a warm blanket, the kind you toss on the couch when you're about to settle in for a marathon of cheesy movies and popcorn. It was the kind of comfortable chaos that made Hogwarts feel like home. The fire was crackling merrily in the hearth, and the place was bustling with students winding down from their day, gossiping, laughing, and bickering over homework—everything you'd expect from a room full of Gryffindors who weren't the slightest bit afraid of showing their emotions.
That's when Cormac McLaggen swaggered over, looking like he'd just walked out of one of those magical romance novels you'd find in the back of the library—confident, tousled hair, and a grin that stretched wider than the Great Lake. His eyes, however, were locked on Jean like she was a rare creature he planned to study, poke, and probably make some unsolicited comments about.
"Hey, hey! You must be Jean," he said, like it was some grand revelation, slinging an arm over the back of the nearest chair like he owned the place. "Cormac McLaggen, fourth-year Gryffindor. Welcome to the pride."
Jean looked at him for a second, eyes wide like she was processing a complex Transfiguration spell. Then, her expression shifted into a polite, almost kind smile—though Harry could tell she wasn't exactly thrilled by the attention.
"Nice to meet you, Cormac," she said, her voice smooth and controlled, the sort of tone someone uses when they're politely asking for a seat on the Hogwarts Express but not planning on making small talk.
Cormac's grin only grew. "So, Jean, since you're new here, I thought maybe I could show you around—give you a private tour of the castle?" He leaned forward slightly, giving what he thought was an irresistible wink, but it came across like a bad attempt at a charm spell that had gone wrong. "I know all the secret passages. Don't tell anyone, but I even know the quickest route to the kitchens. A Gryffindor's best-kept secret."
Harry was about to say something—probably something snarky—when he felt the sudden, inexplicable need to stand in between Jean and Cormac. Not because he was the knight in shining armor type, but because Cormac was making Harry's skin crawl like a Charm gone wrong. Not to mention, he was suddenly extremely aware of how close Cormac was standing to Jean, as if he was trying to mark his territory. Harry wasn't having any of it.
Before he could form a sentence, Hermione shot him a look that was sharp enough to cut through the awkwardness. She leaned in, her voice barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a dozen textbooks. "You good, Harry?" she asked, her eyes flicking between him and Cormac. There was a hint of curiosity in her expression, the same curiosity that made her the best at solving mysteries but also the worst at pretending not to care about things that mattered.
"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered, trying his best not to look like a jealous idiot, though his ears were turning as red as Ron's hair. "I'm fine."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. Sure you are." She didn't buy it for a second, but she let it slide. For now.
Jean, sensing the mounting tension, gave a soft, polite laugh and turned back to Cormac. "Thanks for the offer, Cormac. But I think I'm good for now," she said, her voice a little too sweet to be convincing. She inched slightly closer to Harry, a move so subtle it was like a spell in itself.
Fred and George, who'd been watching the interaction with the kind of amusement usually reserved for a magical prank about to unfold, couldn't resist. Fred leaned in with a grin so wide, it threatened to split his face in half. "Hey, Cormac, didn't McGonagall say you had detention?" he said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness.
George added, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Yeah, she mentioned something about you needing to scrub all the cauldrons. I think that's priority number one right now."
Cormac's grin faltered for a second, and Harry could almost see him floundering like a fish out of water. "Right. Detention," he muttered, suddenly looking way less charming and way more like a toddler caught in the cookie jar. "I should, uh, probably get to that. See you around, Jean." With one last, awkward wink—this one more out of habit than confidence—he stumbled away, his ego bruised but his stride still trying to look cool.
Once he was out of earshot, Ron let out a short, delighted snort. "That was brilliant. Cormac would've been unbearable if he kept at it."
Fred shrugged like he'd just performed a simple Transfiguration. "Someone had to put him in his place. Can't let him think he can just roll in and steal the spotlight."
George gave a sly grin, his eyes darting between Harry and Jean. "Or steal Harry's chance at being the tour guide," he teased, raising an eyebrow.
Jean laughed, a sound that made Harry's stomach do a little somersault. It was the kind of laugh that made everything feel lighter, brighter. "Thanks, you two. That was a close one." She glanced at Harry and gave him a smile that made him feel all kinds of things he couldn't quite name yet.
Harry's cheeks flushed. "No problem," he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked in a way that made it clear he was anything but casual. Hermione, ever the observer, shot him a teasing smile. "Handled that well, Harry," she said, her tone light but knowing. "Really smooth."
"Oh, you know, just trying to be helpful," Harry said, playing it off, but his face was turning as red as Ron's hair now. He glanced at Jean, who was laughing with Ginny about something to do with their flying lesson. For a moment, Harry couldn't focus on anything else but the way she looked, the way she smiled. He was hopeless. He'd known her for, what, a week? And already she had him completely wrapped around her finger.
Hermione leaned in closer, a sly smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You know, Harry, we're all here if you need help with, well, anything." Her voice was teasing, but there was a warm edge to it, the kind that only a friend could offer.
"Right," Harry said quickly, his mind whirling. "Thanks, Hermione." He glanced back at Jean again, who was now deep in conversation with Ginny, and felt a flutter of something unfamiliar.
As the night wore on, the common room filled with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional magical explosion from Fred and George's latest experiment. Harry found himself stealing glances at Jean every chance he got, his heart doing flips in his chest. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe he was being a bit ridiculous about it. But for now, he was content to be around his friends, surrounded by the chaos that made Hogwarts feel like home.
And maybe—just maybe—he'd find the courage to say something to Jean someday. Until then, he'd enjoy the moments, the laughs, and the fact that he was surrounded by the best kind of chaos there was.
—
The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with the kind of energy that could only mean one thing: a new announcement. And no one was better at delivering announcements than Oliver Wood, who swaggered in like he was the Hogwarts equivalent of a rock star. It was almost impressive how much swagger he could pack into one person. His face was practically glowing with excitement, and it didn't take a genius to guess that this wasn't just about another one of Professor McGonagall's mildly horrifying detention announcements.
"Alright, listen up, everyone!" Oliver called out, grinning like he'd just won the Quidditch Cup—oh wait, he probably had.
The chatter in the room instantly stopped. Heads swiveled toward Oliver as if he were holding the last Butterbeer in the room. He had that effect on people.
"Professor McGonagall's given us permission for a reserve Quidditch team! Tryouts are next weekend!"
The news hit harder than a Bludger to the face. You'd think Oliver had announced they were giving away free Firebolts, because the room erupted into wild excitement. Ginny's eyes were practically twinkling, and she looked like she was about to fly off the ground.
"That's brilliant!" Ron grinned so wide Harry was worried his face might split in half. "Finally! A chance to show off my Keeper skills!"
Ginny's enthusiasm mirrored his. "I'll be ready for Seeker," she added, already planning how she could fly circles around everyone on the pitch.
Harry, meanwhile, was trying to process this whole "reserve team" thing. Jean, standing next to him and holding her Nimbus 2000 like it was her best friend, turned to Harry with a raised eyebrow.
"Reserve team? What does that mean?"
"Ah," Harry said, his eyes lighting up as he shifted into full "Quidditch Nerd" mode. "It's like a backup team in case anyone gets injured or can't play. It's a chance for more people to get involved—get a shot at making the team, even if they're not starters."
Jean nodded slowly, clearly intrigued. Her lips curved into a smile as she glanced back at the broom she was clutching. "Well, I suppose I could give it a shot."
Fred and George, who had been sitting back with mischievous grins that suggested they were plotting something incredibly mischievous (because when are they not?), exchanged a glance before chiming in.
"About time," Fred said with a grin that could only be described as 'nefarious.' "We could use some decent backup for when one of us inevitably gets knocked out of the game."
"Yeah," George added, eyes twinkling. "We're still recovering from last year's 'accident.'"
Harry made a face, remembering the year they spent most of the match lying in the hospital wing after one of Fred's pranks involving fireworks and a particularly flammable broomstick.
Hermione, sitting in the corner with a book she wasn't actually reading—because when is Hermione ever not reading a book?—let out a little chuckle. "Looks like you'll all be quite busy."
Ron threw an arm around her shoulders. "And don't forget, 'Mione. You'll be helping us all. You know, with that whole 'being a genius' thing you do."
Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Yes, Ron. I'll just 'help' by taking notes on how not to get hit in the face with a Bludger. Brilliant idea."
Oliver, who had been pacing and waiting for the perfect moment to drop the next bit of news, continued with gusto. "If you're interested, make sure you're ready to show up next weekend for tryouts! We'll need the best of the best, people!"
There was a pause as everyone looked around, sizing up potential competition. Harry could practically feel the collective anticipation buzzing in the air like a Quaffle in flight.
Ron grinned, looking particularly pleased with himself. "Well, if I'm not on the main team, at least I'll have an excuse to skip a few classes for tryouts. This is going to be great."
Harry shook his head, laughing. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"
Fred and George exchanged a look like they had just hit on the world's next big prank. "Oh, we'll make sure the tryouts are memorable," Fred said, already plotting some chaos.
"Definitely," George agreed, his grin widening. "Nothing says 'team spirit' like a few well-timed distractions."
As the common room erupted in excitement again, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. His friends—quirks, flaws, and all—had his back, and he had theirs. It didn't matter who made the main team or the reserves; it was about sticking together.
He glanced over at Jean, who was now chatting with Ginny about flying techniques, and felt that familiar flutter in his chest. It was like the start of a new Quidditch season: uncertain, thrilling, and full of potential.
For now, though, he was happy just being part of the team, in whatever capacity. Who knew what the tryouts would bring? Maybe more teammates. Maybe more surprises. Maybe even a couple of pranks courtesy of Fred and George.
All he knew for sure was that it was going to be one heck of a year. And whatever happened, he had his friends—and Jean—by his side.
—
The Gryffindor girls' dormitory was quiet, bathed in the soft silver glow of the moonlight creeping through the windows. Most of the girls had already turned in for the night, but Jean and Hermione were still awake, lying in their beds, the occasional rustling of the sheets the only sound in the otherwise peaceful room.
Jean, who had been staring up at the canopy of her bed with a thoughtful expression, finally broke the silence. "Hermione," she began, her voice a little quieter than usual. "Can I ask you something?"
Hermione, who had been pretending to read but was really just watching Jean from the corner of her eye, put her book down with a soft thud and gave her a warm, encouraging smile. "Of course. What's going on?"
Jean twirled a strand of her long, golden hair between her fingers, clearly trying to sort through her thoughts. "It's about Harry," she said, and Hermione's eyes instantly lit up like a Christmas tree. "I think... I think he might like me. And, honestly, I think I like him too. But I'm just not sure what to do about it."
Hermione's smile softened, and she sat up a little, her eyes sparkling with that signature Hermione wisdom. "Oh, Jean. You two are like a couple of magnets stuck in the same room, always pulling toward each other, but neither of you wants to admit it yet." She paused for a second, her fingers tapping lightly on her chin as she thought. "But I get it. Harry... he's, well, a bit of a disaster when it comes to anything remotely emotional."
Jean snorted, a grin breaking across her face. "I swear, he's like one of those dogs that sits there, wagging its tail, waiting for you to figure out it wants a belly rub."
Hermione laughed, her face brightening with that familiar mix of sass and affection. "Exactly. He's so good at saving the world, but when it comes to asking someone out? Utterly hopeless." She leaned forward a bit, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Honestly, I think you're gonna have to make the first move."
Jean raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Wait, I should make the first move? I can barely make eye contact with him when he looks at me for too long. I'm not exactly the bold type."
Hermione crossed her arms, her gaze turning resolute, the way it always did when she was about to drop some serious truth. "Trust me, if you wait around for Harry to realize what's right in front of him, you'll be waiting until the next Quidditch World Cup. And besides, you're awesome. He doesn't need to figure it out on his own." Hermione paused, her eyes glinting with mischief. "So why not take advantage of the next Hogsmeade trip? It's a perfect opportunity. You just ask him, and I guarantee he'll say yes before his brain can catch up."
Jean's eyes sparkled, and a small laugh bubbled out of her. "Hogsmeade, huh? That's... that's actually brilliant." She stared at the ceiling for a moment, imagining the possibilities. "I could just... casually ask him to go with me. No big deal."
Hermione grinned, clearly pleased by Jean's reaction. "Exactly! You'll be the coolest person in the room, and Harry will probably be so flustered he won't know whether to thank you or propose right there." She winked. "The poor guy's so awkward when it comes to feelings, it's like watching a puppy try to figure out how to fetch a stick."
Jean laughed again, feeling a little more at ease. "Okay, okay. I can do this. I think. Thanks, Hermione. I really needed that."
Hermione gave her a gentle nod, her expression softening. "Anytime, Jean. Honestly, you've got this. Just be yourself, and the rest will fall into place. If there's one thing I know, it's that Harry's a bit of a disaster in most areas... but when it comes to someone as brilliant and kind as you?" She smiled warmly. "He won't be able to resist."
Jean smiled back, feeling a wave of warmth and gratitude. For the first time in a while, the idea of taking a leap felt a lot less daunting. She wasn't sure how it would go, but Hermione's pep talk had certainly given her the boost she needed.
As they both settled back into their beds, the conversation drifted off, and the moonlight outside the window seemed to hold its breath, watching the girls as they fell into a quiet, comfortable silence. Hermione lay on her back, staring at the canopy above, her mind still spinning, but not in the same way as Jean's. There was something about watching the girl she considered her closest friend navigate these emotions that stirred a deeper feeling in Hermione—one she wasn't quite ready to deal with. For now, though, she let it be. She was happy for Jean.
And as for Jean, well, she could hardly keep her eyes closed as she imagined the possibilities of the upcoming Hogsmeade trip. With Hermione's encouragement, it felt like the perfect chance to make a move. Maybe it would be awkward. Maybe it would be hilarious. But either way, Jean was ready for whatever came next.
The night passed on, filled with dreams of broomsticks, Hogsmeade weekends, and a certain boy who had a way of making Jean's heart race with just one look.
And maybe—just maybe—things were about to get a whole lot more interesting.
---
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