𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── ʜ.ᴊ.ᴘ

21: 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁.

❥❥❥

𝗑𝗑𝗂. 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁

"I don't think you should hang around him anymore"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Harry?"

Hours had already passed since Y/n was released from the Hospital Wing, and as everyone went their separate ways around the school, Harry found himself back in his shared dorm room, staring down at what seemed to be his anniversary present for his beloved.

Looking up, he was surprised to see the girl in question peeking around the door with a look of concern written all over her face.

Frowning when the Gryffindor didn't answer and only looked back down at the box, she decided to take a seat next to him, hoping that it was a good idea to do so.

It wasn't.

"What are you doing here?" Harry finally spoke, still refusing to meet her eyes. "Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend?"

"Yes, but-" She stopped for a moment, studying his face before going back to what she had to say. "I just wanted to check up on you - you acted a bit off earlier."

'A bit off, my ass — I was acting perfectly fine. It was you that was acting weird.'

He looked up at her (finally having built the courage to do so) and forced a smile, silently hoping that she would believe it since Y/n could easily read him like a book.

"I'm fine," he reassured her. "I guess I just had too much Butterbeer last night."

Luckily she believed his fake excuse as she had smiled back at him as well, giving him a small pat on the shoulder before standing up.

"Well, I suggest you take a rest then," Y/n told him. "It's still early in the morning, and it is a Saturday after all."

"Right," he muttered, eyes glued to her figure - watching as she moved towards the door. "I'll see you around, I guess."

A small nod and smile were all he got as a response before the doors closed behind her, leaving him all alone in the room once again.

"Fucking damn it — you lost her again."

Harry picked up the framed photograph of him and Y/n. It was a moving picture of when he had officially asked her to be his.

He watched as his girlfriend's — well probably ex-girlfriend's — eyes sparkled as soon as he had asked her the question. He watched as she beamed with joy before pulling him into a loving kiss and the way they both pulled away with huge, goofy grins across their faces.

Damn, he was gonna have to thank Ron for getting Collin to take a picture of the two of them.

⚡︎⚯⚡︎

"What are you going to do about the situation?"

He let out a deep exhale at the question, running his hand through his messy, raven hair. "I don't even know at this point," He answered, laying back down on the bed again as the couple stared at him. "How do I even get her back when she thinks that fucking shithead is her boyfriend. To be honest, if she was going to think someone else is her significant other, then she should've chosen someone that is a thousand times better than that poor excuse of an American."

"'Poor excuse of an American' -- hah, that's funny," Ron chuckled before immediately shutting up as he was met with glares from both his best friend and girlfriend. "What? It's the truth. You guys just don't have a sense of humour, that's why."