The Great Hall had never been this loud. Laughter echoed off the enchanted ceiling, cutlery clinked against plates, and conversations blurred together into familiar background noise. Harry sat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, pretending to listen as Ron passionately complained about the amount of homework McGonagall had assigned. Pretending. Because his eyes kept drifting toward the Slytherin table. More specifically, toward you.