Harry Potter:
Fourth year at Hogwarts was already shaping up to be one of the most memorable yet. The Triwizard Tournament had everyone on edge, but there was something else—something much more personal—that was taking over my thoughts.
Harry Potter, my brother Ron's best friend and my friend since our first year, had been acting differently around me lately. We'd always been close, but now there was a nervous energy whenever we were together. I thought I was imagining things until one cold December evening in the Gryffindor common room.
I was sitting by the fireplace, finishing up an essay for Professor McGonagall, when Harry approached me. His usually confident demeanor seemed a bit more hesitant, and he kept running his fingers through his messy hair.
"(Y/N), can we talk?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
"Sure, Harry. What's up?" I replied, setting my quill down and giving him my full attention.
He sat down next to me, close enough that our knees touched. I felt a rush of warmth, but I tried to keep my composure.
"I've been meaning to tell you something for a while now," Harry began, his green eyes meeting mine. "I've been feeling... well, different around you lately."
I felt my heart skip a beat. Could this be what I'd been hoping for?
"I know we've been friends for years, and I don't want to mess that up," he continued, "but I can't keep pretending I don't have feelings for you, (Y/N). I really like you."
For a moment, I was speechless. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, my friend, was confessing his feelings to me. I could see the vulnerability in his eyes, and it made my heart ache.
"I... I like you too, Harry," I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
A wide smile spread across his face, and I couldn't help but smile back. He reached for my hand, holding it gently.
"Would you go out with me?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.
"Yes, Harry, I'd love to," I replied without hesitation.
The relief and joy on his face were contagious. We spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing, sharing stories and dreams. It felt like a weight had been lifted off our shoulders, and everything seemed brighter, warmer.
As the night grew late, Harry walked me to the girls' dormitory. Before I went inside, he leaned in and gave me a soft, sweet kiss on the cheek.
"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he whispered, his eyes twinkling with happiness.
"Goodnight, Harry," I replied, my heart full.
That night, I fell asleep with a smile on my face, knowing that this was just the beginning of something wonderful. Harry and I had always been there for each other as friends, but now we were stepping into a new chapter, one filled with love and endless possibilities.
Ron Weasley:
The roar of the crowd in the Quidditch pitch was deafening. We had just won a grueling match against Ravenclaw, and as the Hufflepuff Keeper, I felt an overwhelming sense of pride and joy. My teammates swarmed around me, cheering and patting me on the back, but my eyes were scanning the stands for one particular face.
Ron Weasley, my best friend and the Gryffindor Keeper, was grinning from ear to ear, his red hair unmistakable in the sea of spectators. He waved enthusiastically, and I felt a flutter of excitement in my chest. Ron and I had always shared a special bond, one that had grown stronger over the years. Lately, though, I sensed there was something more.
