2/365
They were hidden on the hill again, where he loved to lie beneath the oak tree and find patterns in the clouds. Except this time, they were dancing, and though she looked at ease, something told him that this was a stolen dance.
Rumours had told him that she had softened to Potter's advances. Surely not, he thought; he almost stumbled on his feet again. "Come on, Sev," she said; her voice was full of light laughter that made his chest feel funny. "I've got to perfect this before the Christmas ball."
He swallowed hard, praying the rumours weren't true.
