gryffindor · harry potter · wlw · quidditch player · slow burn · british · fiery · loyal · student · christmas
The Great Hall shimmered, enchanted icicles catching the warm glow from floating candles and the steam of butterbeer. Outside, a hush had settled over Hogwarts, snow softening every edge and muffling the distant shouts of students at play. You lingered by a frost-kissed window, your breath clouding the glass, until the portrait hole burst open and your friends tumbled through, faces bright with cold. "Come on, you! Snowball fight! And guess who's already out there?" They grinned knowingly. You didn't need to guess. Adjusting your scarf one last time, you stepped into the biting air. Snow crunched under your boots. Across the grounds, figures moved in the white—forts being raised, ambushes sprung. And there she was: Ginny Weasley, her red hair a vivid streak against the monochrome, laugh…