The rest of the summer holidays flew by, and before they knew it, the day before their journey back to Hogwarts had arrived. The Burrow buzzed with activity as everyone rushed around, collecting their belongings and packing their trunks.

For the first time since his first year, Harry wasn't particularly eager to return to Hogwarts. This summer had been the best he'd ever had, and he couldn't shake the feeling that stepping back into reality would shatter the fragile sense of normalcy he had found at The Burrow. It had been easy to forget about the war here, to exist in a happy bubble where Voldemort's growing power felt distant, almost unreal. For once, he had allowed himself to simply be a teenager. But he knew that as soon as he returned to Hogwarts, that illusion would be gone. The time was coming when he would have to face the prophecy and the role he was meant to play in the war.

That bubble had already begun to burst during their trip to Diagon Alley the week before. The fear in the wizarding world was palpable. The once-bustling street, usually filled with lively chatter and excited shoppers, had become eerily quiet. Many shops were boarded up, and the few that remained open had nervous customers hurrying through, heads bowed, avoiding eye contact.

It was a sobering sight, one that left Harry feeling unsettled. Their shopping trip was rushed—just a handful of essential stops: Gringotts, Madam Malkin's (where Harry belatedly realized that his summer of good meals and running had done wonders for his frame), Flourish and Blotts, and the apothecary. Even Mrs. Weasley's reluctant visit to the twins' shop was brief. But that was where Harry spotted Draco Malfoy slipping into Knockturn Alley.

Thanks to Mrs. Weasley being momentarily distracted—scolding Ginny for openly eyeing the Skiving Snackboxes—Harry managed to sneak out with Ron and Hermione in tow. They followed Malfoy to Borgin and Burkes and watched his interaction with the shopkeeper.

The whole encounter left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth. He couldn't help but wonder what trouble Malfoy would bring in the coming school year.

But Malfoy wasn't the only thing weighing on Harry's mind. He had grown comfortable with his easy friendship with Ginny, enjoying their morning runs and casual conversations. But Hogwarts was different. Ginny had her own friends, her own life, and she wasn't typically part of their trio. He wanted to ask if she planned to keep running with him, if she would make time for him once they were back at school, but he didn't want to come across as needy. So, he said nothing.

By the morning of their departure, Harry was in a foul mood. Ginny noticed immediately, her sharp eyes catching the tension in his posture.

"Alright, what's wrong with you?" she asked as they ran, her tone light but probing.

Harry hesitated, unsure how to voice his real concerns—his fear that she'd drift away from him once they were back at school. Instead, he latched onto something easier to explain.

"I dunno. I just—I'm sure Malfoy's up to something. After what we saw in Knockturn Alley… I can feel it in my bones. I nearly convinced myself he's taken the Mark. Hermione and Ron think I'm mad, but… I dunno. Is it mad?"

Ginny didn't even pause before answering. "Considering we're talking about Malfoy? No, that's not mad at all, Harry. I believe you. You have good instincts, and if you think something's wrong, I'm with you."

Her words steadied him more than he expected. Ron and Hermione's skepticism had left him feeling isolated, but Ginny's unwavering support soothed that sting.

"Thanks, Gin. It's nice to have someone actually listen to my worries." He sighed. "What am I supposed to do about it, though?"

"That's easy," she said breezily. "You have the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak, don't you? We'll keep an eye on him. And if things get too dangerous, we take it to McGonagall. Or Remus. Or even Dumbledore."

Harry was unexpectedly touched by her choice of words—we, not you. It reassured him that their friendship wouldn't just disappear once they left The Burrow. He smiled at her, feeling lighter than he had since their trip to Diagon Alley.

And because Ginny had been the one to bring up doing things together at Hogwarts, he finally felt confident enough to ask something that had been on his mind for days.

"Would you like to share a compartment with me on the train?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "Ron and Hermione have prefect duties, so they'll be gone for part of the trip, and… well, I'd like some company."

Ginny's reaction wasn't immediate.

"Oh."

That single word made Harry's heart drop. Here it comes, he thought.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said regretfully. "I promised Dean I'd sit with him a few weeks ago."

Harry's stomach twisted sharply, like a Bludger had just slammed into his gut. Dean. How had he forgotten? She'd mentioned him on the train at the end of last year.

She had a boyfriend.

Something uncomfortable settled in his chest, sharp and unexpected. It wasn't as if he'd been thinking about Ginny that way—had he? But the idea of her sitting with Dean, laughing at his jokes, maybe leaning into him the way couples did—it made his skin feel too tight, like he couldn't breathe properly. He tried to shove the feeling away, but it clung to him stubbornly, an itch he couldn't quite reach.

"Never mind," he said quickly, but the disappointment bled into his voice despite his best efforts.

"My bad. Forgot you had a boyfriend," he added, attempting a careless tone, but it came out snappish instead.

Ginny blinked, looking slightly taken aback.

"I think I'm done for today," he said abruptly. "Still have some things to pack before breakfast. See you."

Without waiting for a response, he quickened his pace, leaving a confused Ginny behind.

…

The breakfast was a silent affair—especially between Harry and Ginny, who were usually talking and sharing jokes through meals. Today, they both sat silently. Harry was almost glaring at his plate as if it had offended him somehow, while Ginny frowned at her breakfast, lost in thought. Mrs. Weasley attributed their silence to nerves about the upcoming journey to Kings Cross and repeatedly reassured everyone that they would be safe in Ministry-provided cars, guarded by Aurors.

This information did nothing to calm Harry's nerves. He felt like a burden to the Weasleys, who wouldn't have to be so cautious if it weren't for his presence. But, having already had one embarrassing outburst that morning, he decided to keep his mouth shut instead of commenting on it.

Once everyone was ready, they split into two Ministry cars. Hermione, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley, along with Tonks as their Auror guard, occupied the first car. Harry stepped into the second car with Mr. Weasley, Ginny, and a frowning Auror he hadn't met before.

Mr. Weasley sat at the front with the Ministry driver, so in the back seat, Harry and Ginny were separated only by Auror Proudfoot. Mr. Weasley tried to start a conversation, but neither the driver, the Auror, nor Harry seemed up for it, so the drive to London was spent in uncomfortable silence. Harry closed his eyes and rested his head on the window, but Ginny could still see his frown, so she knew he hadn't fallen asleep.

Ginny kept glancing at him through the drive, her mind replaying his upset outburst from that morning. She couldn't help wondering what had happened, how they'd gone from easy conversation to this sudden halt. It looked like Harry was jealous. But he couldn't be, could he? He wasn't thinking about her like that.

Sure, they had become quite close over the summer. He had started opening up more to her, and even shared some light, friendly touches—leaning against her when they were sitting on the same couch, offering his hand to help her stand. Little things like that. It all seemed so innocent. Ginny never would have thought he saw anything else.

But then, he shut down completely after she'd mentioned Dean.

To be honest, Dean wasn't even her boyfriend. They'd talked a little at the end of last school year, and he'd asked if he could write to her over the summer. That was it. She expected that Dean would probably ask her out once they were back at school, but the thing was... did she even want that?

It wasn't like she had a crush on Dean. She agreed to their correspondence because he was fun and good-looking, but she wouldn't even be upset if he hadn't written her during the holidays.

But he did write, though. And they exchanged fewer letters over the two months than she had with Harry in the fortnight before he arrived at The Burrow. There wasn't any instant connection. As she watched the countryside roll by outside the window, she realized she would soon have to make a decision. If her assumptions were correct, Dean would likely ask her for a relationship soon

And considering Harry's reaction, that would complicate things. Because even though she knew Harry's outburst was rooted in jealousy, she couldn't imagine that he felt anything more than friendship for her.

That stung a little. Over the summer, and especially in the past few weeks since her birthday, Ginny couldn't ignore the fact that she was feeling more. Every time Harry shared that crooked smile of his with her, or when she daydreamed about him doing brave (and sometimes naughty) things, she had to admit it—her stupid crush on him was back, stronger than ever.

There were two possible solutions to this problem. One: she could follow Hermione's advice from last year and go out with someone else—probably Dean. But if her experiment with Michael had taught her anything, it was that this didn't work. And it wouldn't be fair to Dean... or to herself, to be with someone when her heart wasn't fully in it.

The second solution was not to date Dean. To continue her friendship with Harry, even though she would probably hope for more every minute of it.

Both possibilities sounded painful at the moment. But as Ginny lifted her eyes to look at Harry, who had somehow managed to fall asleep along the way, she made her decision. He looked incredibly relaxed in his sleep, a gentle smile on his lips, probably dreaming about something nice. At that moment, Ginny realized there weren't enough times when Harry actually looked relaxed. She had only seen him like that a few mornings after their runs, when they'd joked around on the Burrow patio.

If her presence was enough to help him ease up a little, maybe that was all that mattered. Ginny wasn't stupid. She knew there would come a time when Harry would have to play his role in the war. Every year, he faced an encounter with Voldemort or his followers, often resulting in near-death experiences. She wasn't naïve enough to think that would change anytime soon—if anything, it would only get worse with Voldemort's growing power.

Ginny had shared a mind with Tom Riddle during her first year, long enough to know that he wouldn't stop trying to kill Harry. And there was no doubt in her mind that Harry would fight back every step of the way.

Life was so incredibly unfair. Harry had already lost so much, lived through so much sorrow. Yet, he still remained the same Harry she'd met six years ago—noble to a fault, always thinking of others, even when the weight of the world seemed to be on his shoulders.

No, she wouldn't date Dean.

That didn't mean she would end up with Harry, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the rare moments of peace she could give him.

She decided to meet Dean on the train anyway, to gently explain to him that she wasn't interested anymore. And then she would continue helping Harry however she could, even if it was just to make him laugh every once in a while.

When they arrived at King's Cross, Harry was in an even worse mood than he had been that morning. Auror Proudfoot was standing so close to him they were practically touching. He regretted—again—not being quick enough to get into the first car. Tonks would have been far better company than the frowning Auror, and at least it would have put some distance between him and Ginny.

He couldn't help it—he was upset with her. Logically, he knew he had no right to be. They were just friends, which meant she wasn't obligated to spend all her time with him. But that didn't stop the feeling from gnawing at him anyway. What was she doing with Dean, anyway? Sure, he was a nice enough bloke, but… something about it didn't sit right with Harry.

Ginny was funny, full of life, mischievous—even reckless when she was passionate about something. Dean, on the other hand… well, Harry couldn't help but think he was a bit boring. He just couldn't picture Dean keeping up with Ginny. Would he sneak out for late-night broom rides the way she, Harry, and sometimes Ron had over the summer? Would he back her up when she took revenge on someone for bullying Luna? Harry seriously doubted it.

When he finally muttered a brief (and moody) goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and stepped onto the train, he went looking for an empty compartment—only to find himself instinctively tracking Ginny with his eyes as she crossed the platform to join Dean and Seamus.

This is stupid, he kept telling himself. Why is this bothering me so much? He never cared when Ron or Hermione spent time with other people. Since when did he get so obsessive?

Thankfully, his inner battle was interrupted when the compartment door slid open, revealing Luna, followed closely by a hesitant-looking Neville.

"Hello. Can we sit with you?"

Harry was unexpectedly happy to see them. The last time they'd spoken had been right after Sirius's death, and he hadn't exactly been the best company then. Guilt pricked at him for not reaching out over the summer—both of them had shown him more loyalty than he ever could have expected last year when they followed him to the Ministry.

"Of course!" he said brightly. "Come in, Luna, Neville. It's great to see you!"

"Really?" Luna asked in her usual dreamy voice. "It's nice to see you too, Harry! Although I must say, you seem rather infested with Nargles at the moment. Who are you thinking about?"

Harry exchanged an amused glance with Neville. Luna will be Luna—but this time, she was spot on. He was thinking about someone. Someone who had just decided to sit in a different compartment.

"Nobody," he answered quickly, hoping she would let it slide. Luna's way of seeing the world was unusual, but sometimes, she just knew things—and this was not a conversation he wanted to have, especially in front of Neville. "Ron and Hermione are in the prefects' compartment, and I was afraid I'd be bored on the ride, so I'm really glad you both showed up," he added, steering the topic in a safer direction.

Neville started asking about their summers, but Luna kept watching Harry with unsettling intensity, her wide blue eyes seeming to see right through him. It made him shift in his seat uncomfortably, so he tried to draw her into the conversation to distract her.

Before he could, the compartment door slid open again. Ginny stepped inside with a slightly nervous smile.

"Hi!" she said, far too cheerfully, and plopped down beside Harry as if that had been the plan all along.

Harry was so surprised he momentarily forgot he was supposed to be upset. He smiled at her, raising an eyebrow in silent question. What made her change her mind?

Luna was still watching him, but after observing their interaction, she simply said, "I see," like she had just solved some kind of puzzle. Then, at last, she turned her attention elsewhere.

"Hello, Ginny! I thought I saw you with Dean. Why are you here with us?" Neville asked, oblivious to the tension his question created.

"Changed my mind," Ginny shrugged.

Harry's grin widened. Ginny smiled back at him, and just like that, the morning's awkwardness was forgotten.

The conversation in their compartment became more enjoyable after that—until the door slid open again, revealing a nervous-looking second-year clutching a parchment.

"Professor Slughorn requests your presence in his compartment, Harry," the boy recited timidly, holding out the invitation.

Harry frowned at the note, feeling bad about leaving Ginny so soon after she had chosen to spend the journey with him. She seemed to read his mind because she smirked and waved him off.

"We don't need you to entertain us, Potter. Go on, we'll be here when you're done."

Reluctantly, Harry went. He regretted it almost the entire time. With no one he particularly wanted to talk to, he spent lunch in silence and all but bolted the moment it was socially acceptable.

On his way back to his compartment, he spotted Malfoy lounging with his usual band of cronies. Malfoy was speaking, looking entirely too self-important, and his expression only confirmed it. Harry considered pausing to eavesdrop but decided against it and continued back to his friends.

In his absence, Ron and Hermione had arrived, and much to Harry's displeasure, they had taken the seats on either side of Ginny. With no other option, he dropped into the seat between Luna and Neville, launching into a recap of his visit to Slughorn's compartment and casually mentioning Malfoy.

Ginny leaned forward and whispered, "You're thinking about spying on him, aren't you?"

Harry shot her a sheepish look. He had, in fact, been considering it.

"Don't," Ginny warned. "It's too risky right now. If we do something, we should do it together—strength in numbers. Promise me you won't go sneaking off alone."

Hermione, who had been listening, narrowed her eyes. "What are you two whispering about?"

Harry shrugged, but Ginny answered anyway. "Keeping an eye on Malfoy."

Ron groaned. "Not you too, Ginny! Don't start feeding Harry's unjustified paranoia."

"I'm not feeding anything," Ginny shot back. "Unlike you two, I actually trust Harry's judgment when it comes to sensing danger."

Neville looked curious. "Wait, what's going on with Malfoy?"

Ginny quickly filled him in, and to everyone's surprise, Luna nodded knowingly.

"Yes, I've noticed his aura is darker this year," she said airily. "Even more than in June. I'd like to help if that's okay. It'd be a bit like the D.A. last year."

Hermione looked scandalized at the very idea of spying on a classmate, but Harry couldn't help feeling touched by the trust his friends had in him. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to widen his inner circle—Hermione could be a little too logical, and sometimes it was good to have different perspectives.

The rest of the journey passed without incident—aside from Romilda Vane's sudden appearance, attempting (and failing) to lure Harry to her compartment. Soon enough, they arrived at Hogwarts and made their way into the Great Hall, settling in to await the Sorting and the start-of-term feast.

Harry woke up the next morning without an alarm, at around quarter to six—just as he had for most of the summer. It was the time he usually got up for his morning runs with Ginny. They hadn't discussed whether they would continue the routine at Hogwarts, but he got ready anyway, quietly making his way down from the boys' dormitory to the common room.

He didn't want to miss the chance if there was even a possibility that Ginny had woken up, too. After his outburst yesterday, he wasn't willing to risk the fragile truce between them.

The common room was empty, and Harry sat nervously on the couch by the fire, preparing himself for disappointment. After all, they hadn't made any concrete plans. And if she doesn't show up, he told himself, I won't sulk about it this time. A full day of reflection had made him realize he had acted like a prat. He should probably apologize.

His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps from the girls' dormitory. Moments later, Ginny appeared, dressed for a morning run. When she spotted him, she beamed.

"I wasn't sure if you'd come. We forgot to set a meeting time yesterday."

"Of course I came," Harry said, standing up.

Together, they slipped through the portrait hole and made their way to the main gates. The first stretch of their walk was spent in silence, and with each step, Harry grew more nervous. He knew he needed to apologize before he chickened out.

"I'm sorry about yesterday, Gin. Not sure what got into me," he admitted.

Ginny hesitated before replying, "It's alright." Even though she had decided not to hold it against him, his reaction yesterday had still unsettled her.

"It's really not," Harry insisted. "I acted like a git, and you didn't deserve that. I'm sorry. And I promise I won't be a prat about you spending time with Dean in the future."

Ginny studied him curiously. He looked like he meant the apology, but she didn't miss the slight frown that crossed his face when he mentioned Dean.

"You don't have to worry about that," she said. "I'm not planning to spend time with Dean."

They had just reached the gates when Ginny suddenly took off running toward the lake, leaving Harry momentarily frozen in place. It took him a second to process what she had said before he hurried to catch up.

"You mean… you broke up?" he asked when he finally matched her pace. A strange warmth settled in his chest at the thought. "Are you okay?"

Ginny chuckled. "We never actually dated, so yeah, I'm fine."

They ran along the lakeshore, Harry still puzzling over what she had just said.

"But… last year, you told Ron you were," he said, confused. "And yesterday, when you said you would sit with him on the train—"

"Last year, I only said that to wind Ron up," Ginny admitted. "Dean asked if he could write to me, and in all honesty, he probably would've asked me out once school started. I just realized I wasn't really interested."

Harry couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. He felt relieved, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just that Ginny being with Dean would have meant less time for her friends—less time for him. After spending the entire summer together, he had simply grown used to having her around. That had to be it.

The rest of their run was lighthearted. They decided to circle the lake—a slightly longer route than their five laps around The Burrow but not by much. Afterward, they returned to their dormitories for a quick shower and change of clothes. Their friends weren't ready yet, and both of them were too energized to sit around waiting, so they decided to go to breakfast alone.

They were the first students in the Great Hall. As they walked in, Professor McGonagall eyed them curiously from the staff table. Harry took his usual seat, and Ginny slid in beside him.

About forty minutes later, Ron, Hermione, and Neville arrived.

"What are you doing here? I was looking for you!" Ron said as he sat down, immediately piling food onto his plate.

"Sorry, we didn't feel like waiting after our run," Harry replied.

At that moment, Ginny's friends entered the hall. Colin and Demelza hesitated before walking over, both looking a little uncertain about Ginny sitting with Harry. She hadn't had a chance to tell them about her new friendship with him.

After your what?!" Ron spluttered through a mouthful of food.

Harry only then realized that, apart from Hermione, no one else knew about their morning routine. He glanced at Ginny, who had initially wanted to keep it a secret, but she only smiled.

"After our run," she confirmed. "We go running almost every morning."

Ron stared at them as if they had grown extra heads. Colin and Demelza exchanged surprised glances, and even Neville looked a little taken aback.

"Since when? And why?" Ron asked, horrified.

Ginny laughed at his expression. The Weasley boys were not morning people, and Ron was clearly appalled at the thought of getting up early just to exercise.

"I've been running since my first year, Ron. Harry started joining me after he came to The Burrow, so we've been doing this for almost six weeks. And as for why—it's fun, and exercise is good for you. Just look how fit Harry is, it's done wonders for him."

The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she had just said.

Harry turned to her in surprise, and their eyes met for a brief moment before they both blushed and quickly looked away. Unfortunately for them, everyone at the table had caught the exchange.

Across from them, Neville smirked in amusement. He leaned toward Hermione and murmured in a low voice, just for her to hear, "So, when did that happen?" He nodded toward the blushing pair in front of them.

Hermione smiled knowingly and whispered back, "Somewhere over the summer. Not really sure they even realize it yet, though. Which is weird, because everyone else has."

Breakfast soon ended, and Professor McGonagall approached their group, handing out timetables and informing Ron and Harry that they could continue with Potions after all—news they both happily accepted. Ginny said her goodbyes to her older friends before leaving the Hall with Demelza and Colin, heading to Transfiguration.

The moment they were out of sight from Harry and the others, Demelza started bouncing excitedly.

"What the fuck, Ginevra?" she demanded. "The last time I saw you, you were planning to exchange love letters with Dean Thomas, and now you're here all lovesick over Harry freaking Potter? Tell. Me. Everything."

Colin, just as eager, stared at Ginny with wide eyes.

"I'm not lovesick," Ginny protested, though her voice wavered slightly.

"Oh, really?" Colin said, grinning. "Because you just admitted to everyone at our table that you think Harry's handsome, and that you've been sneaking off together every morning."

Ginny groaned. "That was unfortunate. I didn't mean to say it out loud."

Demelza chuckled. "But you think it!"

"Oh, come on, like you don't," Ginny shot back. "Harry is incredibly handsome." She shook her head. "But I'm not lovesick. We're just friends."

She quickened her pace, clearly done with the conversation. Demelza, however, caught the slight bitterness in Ginny's tone when she said friends but chose not to comment.

"For what it's worth," Demelza said casually, "Harry was watching you entirely too much at breakfast for you to be just friends, Ginny."

That made Ginny smile, and with that, the interrogation was forgotten as they entered the Transfiguration classroom.

…

Harry couldn't help himself—his eyes automatically followed Ginny as she left the Great Hall with her friends. A strange sadness settled in his chest at the sight of her walking away, which was ridiculous. They were in different years, had no classes together, and spent plenty of time apart before. So why did it feel different now?

He, Hermione, and Ron made their way down to the dungeons for their first lesson of the year—Potions with Professor Slughorn. But Harry was so preoccupied with thoughts of Ginny that he barely registered the fact that, thanks to Snape's unexpected departure from the subject, his dream of becoming an Auror was back within reach. Normally, that realization would have thrilled him.

Instead, his mind kept circling back to breakfast. When Ginny had casually remarked that he was fit, his heart had skipped a beat. What is she doing to me? he wondered as they walked. Why am I acting like this?

Lost in thought, Harry barely noticed when they arrived outside the Potions classroom. Ron quickly explained to Professor Slughorn that neither he nor Harry had purchased their textbooks, and the professor directed them to a cupboard where they could borrow old school copies. Still distracted, Harry ended up with the most battered-looking book, but he hardly cared. His mind was still tangled up in Ginny's words.

At the front of the classroom, three cauldrons bubbled with different potions, prepared as an introduction to N.E.W.T.-level potion-making. Slughorn stood beside them, gesturing for the students to come closer and identify them.

Harry didn't need to be told twice—something about the middle cauldron drew him in with an almost irresistible pull. As he leaned forward, an incredible scent filled his senses. It was warm, familiar, intoxicating. His mind hazily tried to place it.

Hermione, as expected, was the first to answer. "This one," she said, gesturing to the first cauldron, "is the Draught of Living Death." Slughorn beamed and awarded five points to Gryffindor. Then she moved on to the second potion—the one that had captivated Harry.

"This," she continued, "is Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in existence."

Harry tried to focus on her words, but the scent from the potion was making his head feel light, almost dizzy.

"It has a uniquely attractive scent that varies for each person," Hermione explained, "reflecting what they find most appealing."

And just like that, it hit him.

The realization struck like a Bludger to the chest.

The scent coming from the cauldron—it was familiar because he had smelled it before.

It was Ginny.

His stomach plummeted as if he had just missed a step on the moving staircase. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the rest of Hermione's explanation. Ginny. He had been smelling Ginny in Amortentia.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of it, but it was as though a dam had broken, and every single moment with her this summer came flooding back with shocking clarity.

The way she laughed at his jokes—even the ones that weren't funny. The way she could keep up with him, challenge him, understand him in ways others didn't. The way she had stuck by him when no one else had, never pushing, never demanding, just being there. The warmth he felt when she smiled at him, when she leaned close during their runs, when she sat beside him at breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then there was yesterday—his ridiculous mood, his frustration with Dean, the way his heart had lifted when she chose to sit with him instead. He had tried to tell himself it was just about friendship, just about habit. But it wasn't. It had never been.

This was why he felt so hollow watching her leave the Great Hall this morning. Why his chest tightened when she mentioned Dean. Why he had been so bloody obsessed with her all summer without even realizing it.

He fancied Ginny.

Oh, Merlin.

Panic clawed at his throat. His eyes darted to Ron, who was blissfully unaware, staring at the potions with a look of mild disgust. If Ron ever found out…

Harry swallowed hard, forcing himself to look anywhere but at the potion still swirling in front of him, still smelling like warm summer air, like broom polish, like Ginny.

He needed to get a grip.

He needed to act normal.

But how in Merlin's name was he supposed to do that now?