firecracker ???

The library was hushed in that heavy, February sort of way—where every footstep felt like an echo and even Madam Pince's sighs seemed like warnings. Snow laced the windows in soft lines, the frost creeping inward like veins of ice along the glass.

Elestara sat tucked away at a far table, shielded behind a wall of books. A half-written Arithmancy essay sat in front of her, untouched for twenty minutes. She wasn't reading. Not really. She was just thinking.

Thinking about the weight in the air. The chaos of the castle. The fight between what she wanted and what she wouldn't allow herself to want, at least not yet.

Thinking about Harry.

She had told herself that distance was logical. Strategic. Necessary. Since the day by the lake, since that kiss, they hadn't talked much. Their banter had returned—sometimes—but with edges. There were glances, occasional touches of humour, nothing more.

She had buried herself in her work. Her patrols. Her expectations. It was easier. Safer.

But it didn't stop the ache in her chest when he wasn't near. Or the flicker of something sharp and sweet whenever he looked at her across the Great Hall.

She didn't hear him approach.

"Are you avoiding me?" he asked.

She blinked, looking up sharply.

Harry stood at the edge of the table, ruffled and restless, eyes bright with something she couldn't name. He looked like he hadn't planned anything he was about to say and that alone made her nervous.

"Potter," she said quietly, "this is the library."

"Yeah, and this is important."

She arched a brow. "You're whispering like it's not."

"I'm whispering because I might be about to make a fool of myself."

She closed her book. "Again?"

He ignored the jab and stepped closer, pulling out the chair across from her. "

Harry sat down, staring at the table between them for a beat before looking up. His voice was a little more hesitant now. "You've been... distant."

"I've been busy."

"I know. But even when you weren't, you weren't really there."

She opened her mouth. Closed it again.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she said. "That's the problem."

His brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

She hesitated, then stood. "Come with me."

He followed her out of the quiet alcove, down past shelves of dusty spellbooks and parchment scrolls until they reached a narrower section of the library, rarely used. 

The silence stretched again.

"I didn't mean for things to get confusing," he said finally. "I never wanted to mess this up."

She looked at him, really looked at him. "You haven't. Why are we speaking about this?"

"Because," he said, running a hand through his hair, "I've tried not saying anything. I've tried pretending that a kiss was just a kiss and that the way I feel when I see you isn't everything."

"Elestara," he said, his voice dropping, "I think I might love you."

The silence swallowed everything.

Even the candle flames seemed to hesitate.

Elestara sat completely still. Her eyes widened fractionally. "Don't be ridiculous."

But her voice cracked.

And he saw it. The second it happened. The betrayal of emotion behind all her composure.

She looked down at her hands, like they could shield her from him. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I do."

"You say stupid things all the time."

"This isn't one of them."

She looked up at him again, something beneath her eyes flickered, vulnerable and sharp and startlingly real.

"I think I like you too," she said finally. "You know this."

His heart jumped.

"But not now. Not like this."

The words dropped between them like a drawn line in the sand.

He frowned. "Why not?"

She stood, slowly, folding her arms with something like restraint. "Because everything right now is wrong. Because Umbridge is watching. Because I'm on the Inquisitorial Squad and you're leading a secret resistance and it would be stupid."

"I don't care about Umbridge."

"I do," she snapped.  "I know how to survive her. And you—Harry—you keep getting hurt. You know it wouldn't work out right now."

He didn't answer. Because she was right.

She stepped closer, voice softer now. "If we do this... it won't be in secret. I won't be the girl who sneaks around corners with you. I'm not going to be the girl who you hide like a filthy secret."

He swallowed. "So, what? You want to wait?"

"Yes." She nodded, slowly. "I want something dignified."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then—grinning, just a little—he said, "That's very you."

She rolled her eyes. "Is that a compliment?"

"I love that about you."

She turned her face away.

"I love everything about you."

She blushed just a bit. 

He leaned a little closer. "Don't worry. I can wait. I'm very patient."

"You're the least patient person I've ever met." She shot back.

"Well," he said, smirking now, "for you, I'm willing to try."

She shook her head. "You're impossible."

"I'm in love."

She shot him a glare, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

He winked. "See you around, Black."

And then he walked away, hands in his pockets, grin stupid and wide.

Elestara stared after him, heart hammering, and whispered to herself, "He's absolutely insane."

But she smiled.