Chapter Text
I don't own any of the characters; they belong to J.K Rowling. I only own my OC's that belong to me, which I will mention in one of my later stories
Harry’s dorm was small, cluttered, and permanently smelled like cinnamon Pop-Tarts, but it had become their unofficial hangout spot ever since freshman year. Tonight, it was glowing with red and yellow; literal Gryffindor nostalgia in clothing form. Ginny had a bold yellow hoodie with “Lioness” scrawled across the front, Hermione rocked a red cardigan layered over a sleek black tank, Ron was in his usual red flannel, and Harry… well, Harry had on a yellow crewneck that clung to his arms more than he wanted to admit. They were slouched across beanbags and mismatched cushions, mugs of coffee and hot chocolate cooling on the floor. Midterms were looming, but for now, they were decompressing.
“I swear, if Professor Vector assigns another last-minute project, I’m switching majors.” Ron muttered,
“You’re not even in Arithmancy anymore,” Hermione shot back, sipping her coffee with a smirk.
“I’m still traumatized!”
Ginny snorted. “I’m more traumatized by your Economics essay. What was that thesis? Something about capitalism and chocolate frogs?”
“Don’t knock the frog economy,” Ron said, holding up a finger. “It’s a viable model.”
Harry laughed softly, his eyes flitting to Hermione, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet for the last few minutes. She was chewing her lip and fiddling with her mug, a sure sign that something was brewing in that brain of hers.
“Spit it out, Hermione,” Ginny said knowingly. “You’ve been working up to something.”
Hermione gave a sheepish smile, then glanced between the three of them. “Speaking on that… guys, can we ask you something?”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Okay, sure. What is it?”
Ron just shrugged, still scrolling on his phone.
Hermione straightened, suddenly all business. “Do you guys still have crushes on certain Slytherins~?”
The question landed like a rogue bludger.
Harry choked on his drink. His cheeks went red so fast it was almost comical.
Ron blinked. “What? No. That’s— What the hell kind of—”
“Oh my god,” Ginny burst out laughing. “Still denying it?”
Harry gave her a glare. “I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please,” Ginny said, waving a hand. “We’ve all seen the way you look at Draco Malfoy when you pass him in the library. It’s like Pride and Prejudice but with more glaring and unresolved sexual tension.”
“I do not look at him like that.”
Hermione arched a brow. “Really? Because Pansy says he refers to you as ‘the emotionally unavailable protagonist of his gay awakening.’”
“HE WHAT?” Harry nearly yelled, his voice jumping an octave.
“Oh my god,” Ron said, half-laughing, half-mortified. “Can we not talk about this—”
“You’re deflecting,” Hermione said, narrowing in. “So Blaise, then?”
“No!” Ron blurted.
Ginny raised her hands in mock surrender. “Sure, sure, just like you didn’t spend half of last semester helping Blaise fix his motorcycle even though you know nothing about engines.”
“I was being friendly!” Ron barked.
Hermione gave him a look. “You bought leather gloves for it.”
“They were on sale!”
“You don’t even drive a bike!”
Ron grumbled something unintelligible, clearly flustered. His ears were turning red — the Weasley giveaway.
Harry had slumped further into his beanbag. “Okay, fine,” he muttered. “Maybe I had a crush. On Draco. Past tense.”
“Past?” Hermione teased. “He literally waved at you yesterday and you forgot how to walk.”
“I slipped on a leaf!”
“It was a concrete sidewalk,” Ginny added helpfully.
Harry groaned into his hands. “Why are we like this?”
“Because we care,” Hermione said sweetly. “And we’re nosy.”
“You’re terrifying,” Ron corrected. “And I want it on the record that if anyone tells Blaise I like him—”
“I’ll text Pansy right now,” Ginny said, pulling out her phone.
Ron lunged. “YOU WILL NOT—”
“Children, please,” Hermione interrupted with a smug grin, clearly enjoying this. “Let’s not forget who here is successfully dating a Slytherin.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you and Pansy are disgustingly functional.”
“And it kills you, doesn’t it?” Hermione smirked.
Ron dropped back into his seat with a groan. “How did this happen? We survived seven years of house rivalry just to get emotionally wrecked by eyeliner-wearing Slytherins in college.”
“Full circle,” Harry murmured.
They all sat in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks. The air was warm, laced with the buzz of late-night confessions and too many years of knowing each other too well.
Then Ginny grinned wickedly. “So… what are we wearing when you two finally go on dates with Draco and Blaise?”
“Don’t,” Harry begged.
Ron looked like he was actively praying for a power outage.
“I’m thinking something green,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “You know, for house unity.”
Harry facepalmed. Ron groaned louder.
Outside, the night wrapped around the dorm like a blanket, and inside, the Gryffindors kept roasting each other — a little older, maybe wiser, and very much still themselves.
Only now… with a bit more Slytherin in the mix.