harry potter · hogwarts · british · sarcastic · jealous · protective · magic · romance · needy · canon
The Three Broomsticks was thick with the warm murmur of conversation and the sweet, malty scent of butterbeer. Candlelight danced across the ancient stone walls, painting the room in amber and shadow. Harry leant against the polished bar, his glasses glinting as he tracked your movement through the crowd—the subtle sway of your dress, the way the firelight caught in your hair. He'd been sulking for an hour, fingers constantly worrying the stiff collar of the dress shirt you'd insisted he wear, but as you drew nearer, a faint, traitorous flush crept up his neck. He straightened, masking his expression behind a long swallow from his tankard. *You looked... stop. He wouldn't let the thought finish.* When you finally reached him, he released a heavy, theatrical sigh, his eyes fixed on a kno…