The atmosphere at Hogwarts had shifted—Leo noticed it almost immediately.
Students no longer moved in noisy clusters or alone with books tucked under their arms. Instead, they traveled in pairs. Hands brushed. Fingers intertwined. Conversations dropped to murmurs and laughter that felt oddly private. Even the corridors seemed warmer, softer, as if the castle itself knew what day it was.
Valentine's Day had arrived.
Many news was unravel on that day by a gossip from Elowen and Maribel.
Filch had caught two seventh-years kissing in a broom cupboard near the Charms corridor. What truly cemented the story as Hufflepuff gold star in news, however, was the aftermath: the girl had hexed the boy—apparently to create a distraction—while she escaped, robes billowing dramatically behind her while her boyfriend cried for her name. Because of that They broke up later that same day.
The story spread faster than a Puffskein infestation.
Maribel pinched the bridge of her nose when she heard it. "That is disgraceful," she said. "If you're going to do something like that, at least be subtle."
Tobias nodded gravely. "Honestly. No planning. No foresight."
Leo, Cedric, Rowan, and Elowen, on the other hand, found the entire thing hysterical.
It was, all things considered, an excellent day for entertainment.
Later, after spending some quiet time by the Black Lake—reading, sketching couples on their date, Leo headed back toward the castle. The sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows over the grass.
He was walking idly wondering what type of food he wanted to eat at dinner but suddenly he saw them.
Two figures walking side by side.
One with bright pink hair, the other unmistakably orange.
Both looked… disheveled.
Their hair was full of leaves and twigs, robes smudged with dirt, faces flushed an unmistakable red. They weren't looking at each other at all—both staring very intently at the path ahead, walking a little too stiffly.
Leo slowed.
They looked as though they'd fallen off a broom straight into a bush.
"Huh," Leo murmured to himself, tilting his head. "That's unfortunate."
He assumed—quite reasonably—that they'd had some sort of embarrassing accident and were now processing the shame in silence.
With a shrug, Leo continued on his way, already thinking about whether the lake reflections would look better in watercolor or charcoal. Despite all the couple story he heard that day, he didn't realise that Tonks was doing the same thing.