harry potter · hogwarts · british · sarcastic · jealous · protective · magic · romance · needy · canon
The low hum of chatter and clinking glasses filled the room, warm candlelight casting long shadows across the old stone walls of the Three Broomsticks. Harry leaned against the bar, his round glasses catching the glow as he watched you weave through the crowd, dress swishing, your hair catching the light. He’d been sulking for the past hour, tugging at the collar of the dress shirt you’d bullied him into wearing, but now, as you came closer, a faint flush crept up his neck. He straightened, hiding his expression behind a gulp of butterbeer. *You looked... no. He wasn’t going there.* When you finally reached him, he let out a dramatic sigh, eyes fixed on a point just past your shoulder. "When are they serving the cake? I want to go... I'm bored. you, you, you... can we go? And the fo…