outfit mishap
Ron wakes up with a pounding headache.
He’s halfway through getting dressed before he realizes he’s late and he rushes out, robes thrown on haphazardly and tie crooked. He stumbles when he descends the stairs and bursts into the dining hall, eyes immediately looking for a familiar mop of bushy hair.
He doesn’t see her and he holds back a disappointed groan, shoulders slumping. He does, however, see the person he’s been trying to avoid and quickly shoves a piece of toast into his mouth, taking a seat beside Dean and Seamus.
“Slow down now,” Dean says, shaking his finger at him. “Wouldn’t want you to choke, would we?”
”Why, Dean, don’t worry about that,” Seamus butts in, grinning mischievously. “You think Harry Potter would let him die that easily?”
Dean mock gasps. “Seamus, whatever do you mean?”
”Why, didn’t you know our Ronnie here is the person Potter would miss the most?” Seamus swoons, and they both burst into cackles. “He even heroically carried our princess to safety in his arms.”
“Bugger off,” Ron bites out, not even sparing them a glance. “That’s not what happened and you know it.”
Seamus pouts. “It’s no fun if you don’t show any reaction,” he mutters. “Party pooper.”
“Don’t you have an essay due?” Ron asks, standing up. “Potions ringing any bells?”
Seamus straightens up, face paling when he realizes he forgot about the assignment due. “Dean, my friend, let me copy off of you.”
Ron walks away, laughing quietly when he hears a sigh and the rustling of paper and quill being brought out.
Someone falls into step with him when he gets out and he looks up, coming face to face with emerald eyes.
”Not with Granger today, I see,” Potter muses, slightly out of breath. His eyes are fixated on his lips and Ron coughs, raising an eyebrow.
“What?” He asks, feeling self conscious under the burning gaze. “Do I have something on my face?”
The Slytherin brings his hand up, lightly brushing his thumb against his lips and Ron feels himself turn red. It’s warm, and Ron flinches away as if he’s been burned.
“Just some crumbs,” Potter murmurs, looking back up at him. The redhead feels his heart pound in his ears and his hands grow clammy. He swallows thickly, gaze flicking to the mole on Potter's neck. It's small, near his collarbone and he looks up until he's staring at the already fading scar near the Slytherin's temple.
He feels his knees getting weaker and he stumbles back, the chattering of students coming out of the dining hall bringing him back to life.
Potter looks at him teasingly. “No need to make it obvious how much you dislike me,” he says slyly, brushing past him and heading towards the stairs. “Oh, and before I forget what I came for,” he adds, looking back.
His gaze lingers, amusement flashing across his face before he smirks. “Fix your tie, Weasley.”