realization tastes…wet?
The next time Harry sees him, the redhead is wearing bulky, square glasses that perch awkwardly on the edge of his nose.
His fingers keep adjusting them, and Harry lets out a quiet laugh, watching as the redhead gives up, embarrassed.
So he knows how to be cute too, he thinks, before immediately shaking himself out of it. The students around him look at him questioningly and he waves them off. “What’s wrong with me?” He mutters, pinching his arm. “There’s no way I just thought that.”
His situation gets worse as the day goes on.
He keeps spotting Ron wearing those ridiculously oversized glasses and every time they lock eyes, his heart pounds loudly. He can barely focus in class and ends up messing up his spell when he sees the redhead laugh loudly at a joke one of his friends makes.
”Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall says, raising an eyebrow at the mess in front of her. “Go clean yourself up.”
“Yes, Professor,” he says gratefully before rushing away. He ignores the confused stares of his classmates, finding himself in the bathroom.
“This is not happening,” he breathes out, glaring at his reflection. Water droplets cling to his hair, and he frowns, trying desperately to erase the images of Ron from his mind.
“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” a voice mutters from behind him and he jumps turning around.
Harry blinks in confusion, trying to ignore how his cheeks heat up when he sees the redhead in front of him. “What’s that supposed to mean, Weasley?”
“Potter,” Ron pauses, shaking his head in disbelief at what he’s doing. “I saw what happened in class. ”
The Slytherin doesn’t respond, avoiding his gaze and Ron lets out a sigh. “So annoying,” he mutters, frustrated. “I don’t even know why I bothered to come after you.”
He walks away but Harry moves before he can stop himself, grabbing his arm. The redhead looks at him in surprise, mouth opening to say something before he loses his balance. He lets out a strangled scream and Harry fumbles with his hands, barely managing to protect the older boy’s head from hitting the ground.
“Are you mental?” Ron groans out, but Harry sees the smile tugging at his lips. His glasses are skewed sideways, and the redhead scrunches his nose, hands clutching the Slytherin’s robes as he tries to fix them.
Harry falters, heart racing as his mind goes completely blank.
Ron pinches his arm, eyebrows furrowing. “Did you even listen to a single thing I said?” He asks suspiciously, and Harry swallows harshly, nodding his head. He feels his face flush red and he squeezes his eyes shut, the wetness on his knees and arms snapping him back to the present.
”Don’t look at me like that,” he says instead, praying the redness on his face isn’t obvious. “And don’t wear these glasses again.”
“Look at you like what?” Ron yells in alarm when Harry slumps down on him, struggling to push him off. “What’s wrong with you? Did the fall seriously affect you that much?”
Harry rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Ron wriggles around before giving up. “Fine,” he utters in defeat. “I didn’t want to wear those stupid glasses anyways.”
“Promise?” Harry mutters, not moving from where he’s sprawled.
The redhead exhales angrily. “I promise. Now get off before I change my mind!”
The next day, Ron isn’t wearing the glasses