he’s definitely not spying
It’s not like it’s his intention to spy on them.
He just happens to be hiding behind the bookshelf, overhearing the two Gryffindors have a conversation.
Now it sort of sounds like I’m spying on them , Harry thinks, grimacing. He holds his breath when someone walks by, heart thumping loudly as he pretends to skim through the books. “Stupid amortentia cookies,” he mumbles, inching closer to the table. “I hate Parkinson.”
“I’m not doing this,” he hears the redhead say. Harry peeks out, raising an eyebrow when he sees Ron eye the offending piece of metal in front of him in distaste.
Hermione scoffs from where she’s sitting. “ Boys ,” she mutters in exasperation under her breath, turning the page of her book. “Honestly, just wear it and get it over with. Merlin knows how much you need it.”
”Over my dead body,” Ron hisses and Harry bites down on his laughter, hunching in on himself when Madam Pince looks towards his direction. “I’m going to look like Percy! The twins are never going to let me live it down.”
“And Professor Snape is never going to let you live if you mess up another potion,” Hermione adds, not even bothering to look up from where she’s seated.
Madam Pince hushes them loudly and the Slytherin watches Ron groan, dropping his head onto the desk with a thud. “‘Mione, don’t you know of a spell that can fix it?” Ron whines, gripping the glasses in his hands. “Like whatever Potter did to fix his eyes?”
Harry perks up at the mention of his name, leaning closer. His hand brushes past one of the books and he gasps, catching it before it falls to the ground.
“No, Ronald,” Hermione says, rolling her eyes. “Besides, your sight will get better by itself. Professor McGonagall said so herself.”
“I’d like to speed up this process so that I won’t have to wear these stupid glasses-“ he starts to say before a loud thud interrupts him.
Harry clears his throat, picking up the book he dropped and walks out. “What?” He asks when he notices the two staring at him in disbelief. “I can’t even be in the library now?”
Hermione stares at him with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Were you spying on us?” She says incredulously, eyebrows furrowing.
“Why would I spy on you? I have better things to do,” The blacknette spits out, eyes drifting down to the glasses in the Gryffindor’s hands.
Ron watches his gaze, face twisting when he realizes what he’s looking at. “Here to make fun of me, are you?”
”I didn’t know you were scared of glasses,” Harry says teasingly. “What, the mighty Gryffindor is afraid of looking like a prat?”
The redhead stumbles at his feet, frowning. “You want a fight, Potter?” He asks, ears flushing in anger. “I’m not scared of you.”
Harry smirks, walking towards the exit. “I’m afraid I’d feel like a bully if I fought you when you can’t even see,” he says instead.
As he leaves, he hears Ron muttering to Hermione. “Is he going crazy from all those autographs?”
“Who knows,” Hermione sighs tiredly. “And you! Stop picking fights with him!”