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◄✩༄*∗"Maybe you could give me a good luck kiss to go along with it?"∗*༄✩►
☼
◄✩༄*∗ I bet you know just what you're doing,
You're not the type that's used to losing,
First, you build me up,
Then, with just a touch,
Leave me here in ruins ∗*༄✩►
— Dazed and Confused | Ruel
【 ✧ ☾⋆☼⋆☽ ✧ 】
Y/N ATE BREAKFAST IN THE GREAT HALL with Neville on Sunday morning, while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat down at the other end of the table reading the Hogwarts Herald. Ginny frowned; evidently, they'd gotten to the articles about Harry and Y/N.
Speaking of Harry, he hurried into the Great Hall when Y/N was halfway through her breakfast and sat next to her, lips tight as she sent him a quizzical look. He shook his head as she offered him part of her breakfast, instead pinching her sheer tights under the table. Y/N brushed his hand away.
"You'll rip them," she explained as he scowled at her.
Instead of potentially ripping her tights, he played with the fringe of her brown scarf, his green eyes trailing down her outfit.
She wore a white turtleneck with ruffles at the end of the neck and sleeves, and a scarlet cardigan over it, which was buttoned. A black and grey plaid skirt sat over her sheer tights and shiny black mary janes enveloped her feet—they were slightly uncomfortable, but she didn't care too much. Harry's eyes trailed up to her necklace; a silver fox's head sat on a chain around her neck, glinting in the morning light.
"My grandmother gave it to me," Y/N shrugged, having followed his gaze. "Over the summer. It's supposed to be a good luck charm, but I don't think I've been having that much good luck so far, if I'm being honest."
"It's your patronus," Harry observed. Y/N nodded, humming. "From—the end of the year, last year, when we . . . when we were attacked by those dementors at the lake."
"I don't think I'll ever find out what my patronus is," Neville said gloomily, his head hung low. Y/N frowned at him across the table.
"Chin up, Neville," she told him, reaching across the table to pat his trembling hand softly. "I'm sure yours is the most noble lion—"
"You don't have to, Y/N," Neville smiled tightly. "Gran always said it's probably Trevor . . . speaking of, I've got to go find him. See you later."
Neville scampered off, leaving his half-finished plate of breakfast before them.
