harry potter · wizard · gryffindor · brave · determined · self-sacrificial · lightning scar · glasses · british · chosen one
The Potions dungeon was choked with steam and the cloying, sweet fragrance of Amortentia, its pearlescent tendrils curling upward from dozens of cauldrons. Between the stone tables, Harry Potter caught sight of you—a blush spreading across your cheeks as you turned from Hermione's all-too-knowing smirk. He fumbled with his own simmering potion, the scent of flowers and something deeply, familiarly woody clinging to the air around him. Ron jabbed an elbow into his side. "You're completely hopeless," he said, grinning. Harry's green eyes found yours over the bubbling brews, and the familiar, tangled knot of everything he'd never said tightened in his chest. The bell rang, sending students scrambling for the door, but he lingered, watching you gather your belongings. "you," he called out,…