<b><p></b> <b><p></b> <b>Gryffindor:</b> are early mornings with coffee that burns your tongue because you don't want to wait for it to cool down; old well loved hardback books with split spines; long good morning texts; caffeine induced tired eyes; red ink-stained fingers from poetic words; cracked smiling lips that hold secrets in a romantic language; soft touches on flushed freckled cheeks; full-bellied laughs so loud you have to laugh along; hyper voiced explanations about things they love; leaning back on rickety chairs anticipating the adrenaline inducing feeling of falling; hazel eyes that see and know everything about everyone; the feeling you get from walking around listening to music in the bright sunlight; flannel shirts only slightly unbuttoned; the tapping sound of a pen against a school desk; the feeling of staring out large windows and wishing for sunshine on pale skin; the warm summer breeze on pale skin; the feeling of skin on skin touch; fingers grasping at dark green grass; the smell of burned wood in the warm summer night air; an hour long nap after filling your stomach; hands running through damp hair; knowing silences; understanding head nods; worried almost green eyes.<p/><b>Ravenclaws:</b> are the first sounds of birds chirping in the morning, letting you know you stayed up too late; the feeling of laying awake whilst the world sleeps; the sound of blue ink pens scrapping along lined paper; the satisfaction of anecdotes in university texts; cool fall nights that almost don't require a hoodie; the sound of running natural water against rocks; the pit in your stomach that reminds you that you forgot to eat today; the warm feeling of making your friends laugh; the matching pair of hazel eyes as a reminder you're not alone; the feeling you get from talking to someone in a language only they understand; the overwhelming feeling of needing answers; the tapping of fingers against game controller buttons; your favorite well worn blue sweater; the warmth of comforters up to your ears; a genuine meaningful smile; long nights of thinking about the galaxy around you; intensely deep conversation that give you chills; silence that is never empty; racing thoughts; one knee shaking from over thinking; the feeling of laying on damp grass; the sound of rain on bedroom windows; cloudless nights filled with stars; cloudy mornings threatening rain; freshly opened moleskin journals; childhood nostalgia.<p/><b>Hufflepuff:</b> are chipped nail polish on bitten fingernails; hair that can't decide if it wants to be straight; stray hairs falling from a loose ponytail framing freckled cheeks; sun-kissed skin threatening to burn; eyes like an dark evening summer storm; running your fingertips softly over exposed skin; crisp winters of freshly fallen snow; wolves howling before a storm; flushed faces and chapped lips from chilly nights; a full moon behind barely clouded skies; soft giggles as an attempt to hold back embarrassing laughter; the feeling of sleeping on your stomach under thick comforters; the scent of freshly washed clothes; old blankets against bare skin; worn brown combat boots covered in dirt; heart racing to the point of becoming exhausted; full fake smiles and high-pitched lying voices; the feeling of coming down from forced socialization; charcoal rubbed against the side of a cramping hand; black ink pens stuck in loosening hair; warm vanilla baking in chocolate chip cookies; long silences sitting between relaxing and anxiety-inducing; the glow of soft street lights late at night; whispering voices in listening ears; soft paperback books with bent pages; pitch black bedrooms with soft lighting; the sudden cool breeze of the day coming to an end; the feeling of your eyes adjusting to darkness; stepping in freshly fallen snow; the wind blowing through your hair while driving with your windows down; the smell of salt in dried ocean hair.<p/><b>Slytherin:</b> are wide grins when they know they're right; hands rubbing behind a sunburnt neck; the adrenaline behind skipping class to adventure around the park; old music that brings you to tears; the first cigarette lit in the early morning; burned black coffee; old thick quilts lying on soft couches; the soft glow of the afternoon light through dusted curtains; eyes colored like sunshine through a bottle of bourbon; the smell before nighttime rain; deciding between sleep or seeing the sunrise; tapping your fingers along to your mothers favorite song; realizing the stage of waking from a nightmare to the break of reality; hands in tangled hair; the constant worry about missing expectations; feeling overwhelmed by the knowing of time being lost; the sounds of a room full of voices; late night whispering phone calls; the feeling after your first bitter heartbreak; constant headache inducing nostalgia; always wondering what you did wrong versus what you did right; nervousness behind thinking you're wrong when you know you're right; the feeling of screaming into your pillow after fighting with someone you love; broken guitar strings and sore finger tips; the seasons changing to remind you nothing is eternal; the smell of spring nights; dark red roses.<p/></p><p/></p><p/></p>
You and your boyfriend of 5 months were finally at the stage of arguing. This happens to every couple… you had attempted to convince yourself. Liam had began to leave quite often with his friends in the older grades. Quite often it was Kira knocking at your door looking for Liam.
It wasn’t that It happened sometimes when you were together, it felt like it happened all the time. Liam was constantly leaving with his other friends. Other times he completely didn’t show up for planned dates at all.
At first you were confused- thinking that he just didn’t want to be around you. You were already insecure as it is, but when the beautiful older girls would show up to take Liam it got worse.
Yet again, Liam had left your planned movie night. You had gone out and bought snacks and drinks while grabbing all the movies that were in your possession. Not even an hour into the movie there was a knock at the door. You sighed, knowing what was to come. Liam got up and answered the door. Once he saw that Kira was there, a few words were exchanged. Liam walked over to you, with an apologetic expression.
“I’m sorry y/n… I really have to go. Maybe we can reschedule?” He asked with a sad smile on his face.
“Whatever.” You curtly responded. Quickly gathering your things you walked out the door, not yet letting the tears fall down. Kira looked at you again with an apologetic sad smile.
Once you got home, you fell onto your bed, finally letting the tears fall down.
Finally after a good cry, you texted Liam to tell him it was over. You felt like your relationship was already dead. You and Liam barely ever were together anymore. The few times you actually were together, they almost always were interrupted.
With a sigh, you press the ‘send’ button.
Hours later, you heard a tapping at your window. Looking at you phone, you saw the time was 3:00 AM. But the thing that caught your eye were the countless texts and calls from Liam. Your eyes were red and puffy from previous crying, but you managed to keep a straight face as you looked over to your window.
You and Liam had developed a way for him to access your room easily, which was climbing a ladder to your bedroom window. Liam was at the window, his hair disheveled and eyes red and puffed like yours. He looked almost dead.
You walked over to the window, gently opening it and motioning for him to sit on a nearby chair.
Liam silently got inside and walked towards the chair. His hands ran through his hair a few times before he muttered a sentence.
“y/n… I’m sorry, really. I’ll stop leaving and I’ll be a good boyfriend. I promise.” He looked at you with a pleading expression.
“Liam, you keep leaving me for your older grade friends, we barely are even together anymore!” You whisper shouted, trying not to wake your parents.
Honestly, your heart broke to see him like this. He was furiously rubbing his tears away, but after a while he completely stopped trying to rub them away.
“Please don’t leave.” He croaked.
“Liam…” you started advancing towards him. You hugged him, his head resting against your stomach. He stood up and said to you “I’ll try y/n. Really, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
With a sigh, you agreed to give him another chance. Leading him to your bed, you laid down and he did the same. Your arms wrapped around his chest, and he laid his head on your chest.
It was a moment in the morning, when your hair was in disarray and there were still clumps of yesterday’s mascara residing on your eyelashes. Your hands clutched desperately to the steaming mug of coffee as you read over whatever new novel you’d set your hands on; this particular morning, it was Paper Towns by John Green. Each time you read through a scene you enjoyed, a small smile curved your lips so gracefully. And your body was curled up on the couch in a way that almost made it impossible for Harry not to snuggle you. Though he refrained, settling on merely admiring you.
There was a ponytail holder that held your hair in place, though a few strands fell here and there. Even so, he still found you undoubtedly beautiful. Your clothes were baggy and unflattering, yet his heart went hammering away in his chest whenever he laid eyes on you. It wasn’t that he didn’t see any flaws in you, no. It was just that he fell in love with your flaws all the same because without them, you wouldn’t be you. Everything that you saw as something wrong with yourself, Harry simply considered it another thing to love. And so, he did—almost more than humanly possible.
It was that moment when the newly risen sun framed the beautiful contours of your face, illuminating every detail, flaws and all. When your eyes briefly left the words of your book, turning to him to offer a smile. It was the moment when he couldn’t picture his life without you, when he was so clueless as to how he made it as far as he did without you.
And that was just it, Harry never really knew what was fully living was until he met you. Sure, he was happy, and his life was full of excitement. Though a life full of love was far more superior to one without. And now that he had it, he never wanted to go back. Mostly because you were warm when you both laid in bed at night, smelling like home. And also because he didn’t think he could ever get enough of your kisses. But really, Harry simply loved you, for all of those reasons and more. He wanted to be with you for the rest of his life.
And it was a moment in the morning when Harry had decided. With the sun framing your face as pieces of hair from fell from your ponytail, your eyes so contently settling on the book in your hands, and baggy clothes consuming your entirety, Harry had decided he was going to marry you. He was going to make you his forever. He was going to propose.
“I love you,” the words tumbled from Harry’s mouth before he could stop them. But as you turned to look at him, cheeks slightly pink from his random confession, Harry didn’t regret his blurted statement one bit.
You smiled softly, eyes shining as you watched your boyfriend make his way to you. “That was random,” you commented, a happy underlying tone in your voice.
“I just felt like reminding you,” Harry shrugged, kissing you lightly on the cheek as he sat next to you on the couch.
“Well, I love you,” you whispered, placing your head on Harry’s shoulder.
And yeah, Harry really wanted to propose.
It worked out perfectly, really. With your double shift at the bookstore, Harry had a good part of the day dedicated to finding a ring that was suitable to represent his promise to marry you. The only problem being when it came to jewelry, Harry hadn’t the slightest clue what women looked for. And the nerves settling in his stomach didn’t help much either.
“Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?” A voice was suddenly at Harry’s ear, startling his attention away from the ring he had spotted. An older man stood over him, graying hair peppering the strands. The suit covering his body screamed sophistication in Harry’s eyes.
“Um,” Harry’s eyes flickered back to the case of rings he was looking at before finding the man once again. “I think I’m just looking at the moment. But thank you.”
The man looked at Harry in almost scrutiny. Which really, in an array of holes fraying his white tee shirt, overly tight black skinny jeans, and hair nearly down to his shoulders, Harry shouldn’t have expected anything else. This was a fairly fancy looking shop, and right now, Harry’s appearance deeming how he flowed with the atmosphere was the least of his worries.
So with another slight look of scrutinization, the man walked away, leaving Harry alone with his plethora of self-doubt. If he was being honest, it wasn’t that Harry didn’t need help. He did. He needed help bad because he wanted nothing more than for the ring he picked to be absolutely perfect in every way imaginable. But he didn’t want just anyone to pick it out. He wanted it to mean something. He wanted someone that knew you fairly well to help him.
Harry’s phone rang three times before the person picked up, his hand pressing the device roughly into his ear. “Hello?” A familiar voice rang through Harry’s ear, and with the sound, he automatically felt relief flood through him.
“Gem, I need your help,” he was frantic with his words, eyes still scanning over the selection of diamond rings. “Like really need your help.”
There was a long, exaggerated sigh. “Harry, I’m not listening to one of your jokes to see if it’s stage-worthy. Not again.”
“No,” Harry shook his head as a slight blushing color tinted his cheeks. “No, Gemma. Listen. I’m proposing.”
“What?” She shrieked in return, sounding in disbelief.
“Oh my god!” She squealed. “Well, good for you! Finally grew the balls to ask the little miss, huh?”
“Well…” Harry trailed off.
“Oh Jesus,” she whispered, and Harry could picture the way she shook her head as her eyes closed. A reaction he received quite often from his older sister.
He sighed before continuing. “I haven’t exactly proposed yet, but I’m getting the ring. It’s just hard, Gem. I want the ring to be absolutely perfect and amazing. But I’m having trouble finding one that is. I want to find one where I just look at it and know it belongs on her finger. I need help, Gems.”
“I’m on my way, little bro.”
“She’s going to like it, right?” Harry breathed, a velvet box feeling exceptionally heavy in his pocket. By now, the two siblings sat in a quaint nearby cafe, peppermint tea sitting in front of the both of them. Gemma shook her head softly, sipping on the tea lightly.
“Did you not get the feeling?” She quirked an eyebrow up, referring to when Harry had said he wanted to look at a ring, instantly picturing it decorating your finger. “Come on, Harry. You were all about that ring in the shop. Have a bit of confidence.”
Harry’s hands gripped the mug containing his tea, eyes looming down on it. “I did,” he confirmed. “I just want her to be happy, is all, Gem. And I want to make sure she’s in love with the ring because I’m really in love with her. God, Gemma,” he groaned before looking up at his sister. “I’m so in love with her that it physically hurts sometimes.”
And with that, Gemma’s eyes softened at the emotion swelling in her brother’s. She remembered the times he’d come home from school, love sick with the thought of a girl in his class. He had always been a hopeless romantic, from the time his interest in girls peaked to the time he met you. And Gemma has watched Harry go through his fair share of heartbreaks, each time she wanted to wring the girl who dare hurt her little brother. And sure, Gemma has seen Harry claim he was in love with a girl, though nothing ever amounted to anything more than puppy love. But Gemma has never seen Harry look at anyone the way he looked at you. Out of instinct, his entire demeanor changed once you entered a room, eyes lighting up with the mere sight of you. And he even seemed happier nowadays with you in his life. And that’s not to say he wasn’t happy before. Gemma knew he was. He was just happier now. All together, Gemma knew by just looking at her brother that you were his entire world, and she also happened to know you felt the exact same way. So that’s how she knew you’d love the ring. You’d love the ring even if it was made out of string and cardboard, only because it was what Harry proposed to you with. Gemma just knew.
“She loves you, Harry. She’ll love the ring, I just know,” she promised.
Harry looked at his sister for a bit before nodding, digesting the words. “Okay, yeah. Thanks, Gem.”
Gemma nodded, shrugging her shoulders lightly. A comfortable silence fell over the two of them as they sipped on their teas, the flavor being the favorite amongst both of them. There was a slight growing hustle and bustle as more customers enter the cafe, bell ringing each time one did. And as Gemma took another sip on her tea, she smirked up at Harry.
“So on my way here, I got a call from Lou. And a text from Louis, Niall, Zayn, and Liam. Not too mention a call and text from Mum.”
With her words, Harry’s eyes closed, a red tint flushing his cheeks. “Don’t start, Gems.”
“Was it really necessary to panic to everyone when your trusty sister was on her way?” She teased. “Really though, I just wanted to know your reasoning behind it.”
“I was nervous, Jesus. I just wanted some reassurance. Shut up.”
“So you called everyone in your contacts?”
“Oi, shut up, would you?” Harry groaned, head falling forward in his cupped hands, and Gemma’s laughter boomed through the quaint cafe, echoing through Harry’s ears.
And yeah, Harry really wanted to propose.
I may write another one about the actual proposal. I was going to put it in this one, but I felt like it needs a one shot all its own! But don’t you just love Gemma and Harry! Best siblings ever, really.