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◄✩༄*∗"I'm always going to be here for you, Glumbie, you know that?"∗*༄✩►
☼
◄✩༄*∗ I try to look away, but
something's in the way
I think I'm going blind,
I hope it doesn't change
'Cause I've never seen
something quite
like you ∗*༄✩►
— blind | ROLE MODEL
【 ✧ ☾⋆☼⋆☽ ✧ 】
Y/N WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING, her cheeks suffocatingly hot from her dream. It was barely fresh in her mind—it'd been about her and Harry, and she vaguely remembered there being a dark room with something plush, and another thing that was cold and metal-ly on her skin.
She dressed quietly and went down to the common room, only finding a few of her Housemates awake. The ones who saw her grinned at her, winking; they had not forgotten about her taking Harry upstairs, last night. She offered a half-smile and walked over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, and climbed out of it.
Eating breakfast by herself while reading The Hogwarts Herald, Y/N sneered at the rushed morning edition that announced the Champions—and shamed Harry for his underage admittance. She sort of understood why he was so adamant about people knowing that he didn't willingly enter himself.
Hermione joined her shortly after she finished and ate quickly—stacking jammed toast, she asked if Y/N would like to join her and possibly Harry on a walk. Claiming that she promised she'd talk to Fleur, Y/N politely declined.
"Really?" said Hermione, her brows raised and a smirk dancing on her lips. "I would've thought that you of all people would have liked some alone time with him."
And she scampered off, Fleur entering the Hall as she left.
The rest of Y/N's morning was spent with Fleur: wandering about the castle, they talked about school, their lives, and just about everything that had happened since the last time they'd owled each other. Y/N told her about her adventures in the last three years and Fleur, with a grin so mischievous you would've thought she'd been hanging around the Weasley Twins, mentioned Harry being her boyfriend.
"He is not my boyfriend, Fleur," Y/N giggled as they looked over the bright grounds from the suspension bridge. Students were milling about the grass, some looking longing at the Quidditch Pitch. Y/N did too, and briefly wondered what it was like actually playing in the game. "He's just a friend."
