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Harry was standing on the terrace. The night air over the manor was fresh, smelling of roses. Wind tugged at his light summer robes and stirred the long, sheer draperies hanging over the doorways. Floating lanterns drifted overhead, shining with extraordinary vibrancy. The whole scene was dazzling.
Below, the garden glowed. Rows of fairy lights, the glint of decorative glass, and the reddest rose bushes Harry had ever seen. Four figures waited among them. He could see them in the distance even through the haze of his nerves. They were all looking towards him. Waiting for an answer.
Harry swallowed. He was supposed to choose him. To answer.
It felt kind of ridiculous, standing there like the prize in some gold-drenched ritual, but the magic humming through the air was real enough. Binding. And somewhere beyond these walls, the entire country was probably watching. Watching this one very public ending to five weeks of unexpected chaos.
Harry drew a slow breath, his chest tight. Five weeks ago, he had had no intention of participating in a farce like this. Now... he didn’t particularly regret it. But still, he was beyond nervous. He had social anxiety for Merlin’s sake.
A national spectacle. More than he already was.
A romantic spectacle that everyone and their mother was gossiping about.
How did this happen?
He huffed out a laugh. Small and disbelieving, more air than sound. The kind of laugh that knew there was no turning back. Because there really was not. Harry pressed a hand over his face, rubbing his temples.
Right, a recap could be helpful...
Harry’s gaze wandered over the glowing garden one last time, at the four not-so-strangers who’d somehow stopped feeling like strangers. Turning instead to unlikely connections. Friends.
It started exactly five weeks ago...
The lantern light shimmered and with it the memory came. An early morning, the smell of his favourite tea and that floating sparkly camera orb, that had ruined everything he knew about his current course of life.
Changing everything.
________________________________________________
Good day wizarding Britain! Hold onto your mirrors, as our favourite bachelor is thrust headfirst into a spectacular season of heart-stopping challenges, unexpected suitors and bewitching romance!
Harry’s eyelids felt glued together. As shut as they could be, ready to doze off again. He was in no way a morning person. A few more hours couldn’t hurt. At the moment he was in that hazy, half-dreaming state where the world only existed as vague noises and soft light. Somewhere nearby, Hermione was muttering something.
“Harry! Get up! You need to- ” Muffled words. Harry didn’t register them and didn’t want to. “... be ready!”
Still nothing. His brain refused to engage before at least one big cup of steaming hot tea.
“Harry!”
This time, a faint nudge. He groaned and rolled over, taking the blanket with him. Burying his head under his pillow. The bed smelled faintly of his own hair products, and for some reason... socks? He had no idea.
“Ron’s- ” Hermione’s voice cut off, replaced by a crash. Harry stirred slightly.
Eventually he peeled one eye open. His nightshirt was bunched, the slacks of his flannel pants had risen to his knees, hair sticking every which way and his slippers were barely on his feet.
Apparently, he had forgotten to take them off in last night’s state of exhaustion. He looked around the room, trying to orient himself. Hermione and Ron were gone. Or were they just a figment of his imagination.
Harry shuffled into the bathroom, still dazed, brushing teeth and splashing lukewarm water on his face in an undead-like haze, while occasionally grumpily glaring at himself in the mirror. Even his hairbrush seemed reluctant to co-operate this morning. Every stroke caused tufts to explode in every direction. Defying physics again. Of course.
Once somewhat presentable, by Harry’s groggy half-efforted standards, back in the bedroom, he shuffled towards the door. He needed tea, desperately.
While walking downstairs, all Harry could think about was tea.
Tea was good. Knock. Ignored.
Tea was a necessity. Knock. Knock. Absolutely ignored.
Tea was the greatest creation on earth. KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
His steps towards the kitchen halted. Irritation buzzed in his still dazed thoughts. Who dared? And at this time of morning? With determined steps, Harry walked the long hallway towards the entrance of Grimmauld Place. If anything, to give a piece of his mind. The matter better be more important than his life saving tea of the morning.
Harry swung the door open with force. A frown on his face.
And froze.
A floating camera, spherical and blinking, shades of red and gold hovered at face level. A few centimeters from his nose.
“Good Morning Harry! Can I call you Harry? Oh, of course!” The camera talked. He was startled. “My name is CupidCam. Welcome to this new amazing live experimentation, to which you’ve definitely signed up for!”
“...I...what?” Harry blinked, squinting his eyes. The sound really did come from the camera. This felt more bizarre than a Wingardium Leviosa. “How are you feeling today? Any anticipation in the air?”
Harry didn’t even answer, as his attention was on the camera, which was wobbling, almost...flirtatiously? How was that even possible... “Cheer up! Have some refreshing breakfast. You’ll need energy for all the... excitement.”
He turned around and stumbled towards the kitchen, as he had supposed to do in the first place. The floating camera, CupidCam, followed. The open front door forgotten.
Harry halted again. Breakfast seemed to have been already made, layed onto the table. Tea, toast and treacle tarts. Wait, treacle tarts? Is someone indulging him? Oh, whatever.
Sitting down, Harry poked the toast “I’m not... awake. Definitely not.” He muttered.
Harry startled again as the camera leaned in almost smacking him in the face. “Oh, come now. Tell me, are you a morning person?”
No...” Harry admitted reluctantly “Absolutely not.” This morning really felt bizarre. More bizarre than usual.
The flirtatious sound from the CupidCam asked again “And sudden changes in your life?”
Harry froze mid-sip, suddenly he started to feel oncoming dread. “Sudden...what?”
The camera was fervent “New opportunities! Exciting experiences! Romantic endeavors!”
Tea went down the wrong way. Harry coughed, waving his hands around, trying to calm himself. “I- this is insane.”
CupidCam hummed softly, floating even closer “Excited yet?”
“I am not excited.” Harry muttered, while he batted the camera further away from his face. He should've done that the first time it almost glued itself to his nose.
Then, Hermione and Ron appeared in the doorway, conspiring as always. Oh. So, their appearance hadn’t just been a figment of his imagination.
“Morning sleepyhead!” Hermione said, barely containing a teasing grin. “You’re going to... big things today.” What, exactly what was that supposed to mean.
Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Big things... like what?”
Before neither of them could answer, CupidCam drifted back upwards, almost theatrically, blinking like a mischievous wink.
“Harry Potter.” The voice coming through the camera announced “You have been selected to participate in the first season of a newly developed game show!”
Now Harry gaped, treacle tart halfway to his mouth, toast abandoned. Tea forgotten. His brain refused to compute. “...You’re joking.”
“No joke, and no refunds.” The camera buzzed. “New experiences await!”
Harry slumped back into his chair, completely flustered and stressed. Hermione and Ron exchanged triumphant glances, clearly enjoying the chaos happening to him, inside his mind. Some scheme was in the air. He could sence it.
And then, with a flourish, Hermione summoned the suitcase into the room, placing it at Harry’s feet.
“Your things.” She said cheerfully, firmly patting the leather surface. “Packed and ready. You can thank us later.”
Hary stared at the suitcase, mouth agape, still processing. Reality had officially shifted. His intuition and gut told him that his quiet and lonely morning were about to be over.
Tugging at his messy mop of curls, he felt despaired. “I haven’t even drank my morning tea yet.”
________________________________________________
The carriage, or rather, the glittering, self-hovering magical coach, that muggles couldn’t see, landed in front of a sprawling estate that could only be described as excessively enchanted. Harry blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sheer absurdity of the scene.
Floating lanterns drifted in perfectly choreographed arcs above a garden filled with roses which shined in the sunlight, as if they were magically artificial. Fountains bubbled in impossible shapes, and the driveway sparkled as if powdered with crushed stardust and diamonds.
The door of the manor swung open on its own, revealing a grand hall with walls that shimmered like liquid silver. A chandelier floated several meters above the ground, spinning lazily, as if enjoying its own grace.
Harry’s stomach twisted. He was... he realized slowly... he was the centerpiece.
From the upper balcony, four figures emerged. Shadows at first, but as they descended the grand staircase, Hary could make out their shapes. Each carrying their own distinct aura. One seemed unusually confident, another radiated quiet intensity, one smirked as if plotting mischief, and the fourth... had a charm he couldn’t quite place.
Oh gosh, he recognized them. Well, most of them. Cormac McLaggen, a Gryffindor who used to be quite the popular young man among the populace of Hogwarts. A self-named "playboy". Also a Quidditch player. Blaise Zabini, whom he didn’t actually know that well. A Slytherin who had always been at the top of the list of best performing students, sorted by exam grades. A prefect.
Draco Malfoy, a school yard rival, with whom he had quite often shared banter. Also, part of the list of best academically performing students and a quidditch player. Then the fourth, Tom Riddle. The man hadn’t been in his year, as he was three years older, but they had crossed paths quite many times. Many, many times... Very handsome. Now he was influential, but he didn’t exactly remember why. Harry hadn’t been paying attention to the press or Ministry for many years. For reasons...
Living almost like a hermit, by Hermione's words.
And they were all looking at him. Waiting.
The floating CupidCam hovered closer, buzzing excitedly. “Harry Potter, you are the object of desire! All four contestants are here to... compete for your heart.”
Harry’s jaw dropped, this was a love variety show? A love variety show! Hermione or Ron hadn’t specified for him. “...All four? That sounds a bit ridiculous. I...I didn’t sign up to be a bachelor!... I didn’t even sign up to dating!”
A bell chimed somewhere, and a voice suspiciously sounding like the CupicCam, announced. “Welcome Harry Potter, to Charmed to Love You! Let the games of the heart... begin.”
Harry groaned. He blinked taking in the contestants more closely. Even without seeing them up-close, he could sense their distinct personalities, exaggerated almost as if reality itself was nudging him into absurdity.
“I can’t believe this.” He muttered “I’m the... the bacherlor. What was Hermione thinking?”
The camera hummed happily “Exactly! And the entire nation is watching. This is a live love variety show after all!”
Harry pressed a hand to his face, almost sliding down the nearest wall from shock. “I’m going to regret everything, aren’t I?”
Hermione had really done it then, gone through with her threat of digging him out of his self-imposed hermit habits, and presented him as available to the wizarding world’s dating market.
A soft shimmer of magic swept through the hall, almost like the manor itself was encouraging him to step forward. Harry, fully flustered, sighed and took a hesitant step. He had no idea what was coming next, but he knew it would at least be... memorable.
________________________________________________
Welcome back enchanted viewers! Love is in the air, and this week, it’s veritas-charmed! Our darling bachelor and his spellbound suitors are up for another round of Charmed to Love You! Their honesty shall be put to the test. Who will charm, who will blush and who will end up hexed by their own heart? Let’s find out!
Almost four weeks had passed.
By now, Harry had begun to understand that Charmed to Love You was more than just some ridiculous love variety show. It was a phenomenon that had spread from the invention of the Wizarding Wireless Television and mirror phones. An addition to their already existing radio network.
On the limited free time they had been given, beyond the live filming, everywhere he went whispers followed him. Owls carrying enchanted newspapers swooped through skies, gossiping magical portraits winked knowingly at him, and even the Weasley twins’ latest developed prank product referenced his so-called, heart-choosing dilemma.
Harry rubbed his temples. The wizarding world was officially obsessed. More obsessed than they already were.
“Breakfast? Morning tea? Just a little bit of peace?” He muttered to himself, feeling grumpy, as he stepped into the grand hall.
A floating CupidCam zoomed in with a cheerful enthusiasm “Harry, today you will participate in your first magical compatibility test! Prepare to see whose heart and magical core align with yours!”
Harry just slowly blinked his eyes “You mean, like a quiz?”
“Precisely!” The camera cooed. Coeed at him! “But with heart, flair and magical consequences!” Right, of course. Everything has to be dramatically love-oriented.
The hall shimmered and transformed. Platforms rose, floating gently above the floor, each surrounded by iridescent magical orbs, and curtains that moved and glimmered. Now wasn’t that quite the gaudy set-up, but the audience ate it up every damn time. The rating were telling. Harry’s own magical core tingled, as if it already knew a game was coming.
Each contestant stepped forward. Where had they even come from? Harry hadn’t even noticed their arrival. But really, his attention had been stuck on the ever-changing decoration styles now for four weeks. It sure was expressing someone’s opinionated style.
A certain peacocking, book author and defense expert came to mind.
The voice from CupidCam, cheerful enough to give a Cornish Pixie a complex, boomed across the hall.
“Contestants, Harry will be presented with propositions about himself by you. Assumptions if you will. He then must declare, each statement true or false. After which, pinpoint whom of you was the writer of the proposition. But beware!”
The camera added ominously “As the proposition is spoken, your magical cores and minds shall reveal all lies through the given amulets, for the entirety of the game!”
A thought came instantly to his mind “You mean, they can’t lie right? Not me?”
“Correct!” CupidCam answered in that overly chirpy tone “Only the contestants’ words are bound by truth.”
Thank Merlin, small mercies. Still, Harry let out a groan “Great, this is going to spill some embarrassing details, isn’t it.”
A ripple of laughter passed through the contestants. Draco didn’t even try and hide his delicate snorting. Honestly, what was he even doing here? Just for the entertainment of watching Harry fumble with his own feelings? Most likely. Baise hid a grin behind his teacup, while Cormac was polite enough to try and stifle his amusement to his sleeve. But then, his attention inevitably fell on him.
Tom Riddle.
Sitting on the elevated platform, perfectly composed, hair gleaming unnaturally, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Looking entertained in that way, that made Harry suspicious of his every breath. Their gazes met, his eyes... they sparkled like he already knew all of Harry’s secrets. Harry clenched his fists subtly, muttering under his breath. “And of course it’s him.”
The first floating proposition scroll appeared, hovering in midair. Unrolling with a glittering pop! Really, what a show.
Harry secretly hums lullabies to his owl at night.
Harry pursed his lips “Uh...false.” He answered cautiously. The proposition scroll floated forwards.
“Now Harry.” Sang the CupingCam “Who do you think wrote this?”
Harry squinted at the four suspects. Going over Blaize, Tom and Draco, till he got to Cormac. Maybe the most obvious answer. “That feels like something Cormac would say”
The scroll twirled and revealed... Tom Riddle’s looping signature. How in the Merlin?
Tom’s smirk widened. “Oh? ...You never hum to Hedwig?” He asked lightly. “I was told you were terribly affectionate.” Harry bristled. “Not that affectionate.”
The given truth amulets glowed faintly, proof of the cast spell’s truth-binding. Toms one shimmered like a smug little star.
The next scroll unfurled.
Harry cries at tragic Quidditch documentaries.
“False!” Harry refuted swiftly.
“Who wrote it?” The CupidCam asked.
Harry again scanned the contestants. He couldn’t guess anyone else than Cormac would know that. Even if it was kind of awkward to say his name again. “Still Cormac.”
Wrong again. The name Blaise Zabini gleamed across the parchment.
Blaise shrugged. “You teared up at the bit where the Chudley Cannons finally won a single match.” Now, how did he know that? There had been only one documentary showing arranged during his Hogwarts schooling in the Great Hall, as an end of year surprise and reward. Harry hadn’t even seen the other boy there during it.
“I had something in my eye!” Harry refuted again.
Draco leaned towards Blaise, and spoke with a purposely hearable, teasing tone “Probably emotion.” Harry groaned “For Merlin’s sake.”
The third scroll unfurled.
Harry Potter is completely, obliviously immune to charm and flirtation.
He folded his arms “Absolutely false.”
The scroll floated towards him, and turned with a theatrical spin. Draco Malfoy.
Draco sniffed “Obviously true. Just look at the company you keep.”
Harry’s complicated emotions were flaring up “Is this a love game show, or are you lot auditioning for the Daily Prophet gossip column?”
“Both.” Blaise helpfully supplied.
Subtle laugher rippled through the room again. It was amusing. Harry wasn’t laughing. Definitely not...
Then a fourth scroll came forward, spiraling open, sparkling with a bit too much enthusiasm.
Harry once tried to flirt with himself in front of a mirror just to see what it would be like.
Harry gasped “Absolutely not! False!”
He didn’t even get to guess the writer, before the scroll turned to reveal Cormac McLaggen at the bottom.
Cormac grinned proudly “Come on, Potter. Everyone’s done it at least once.”
“Not everyone.” Harry said flatly.
Draco turned his head towards Cormac “Speak for yourself, McLaggen. Some of us have standards.”
“Some of us don’t need mirrors.” Blaise murmured.
The camera gave an approving trill. ”Delightful, truth energy detected!” Then, CupidCam positively glittered with joy “And now, the final proposition!”
A single scroll appeared, glowing a darker, richer gold. The magic hummed louder than before.
Harry sometimes wonders what it would be like to kiss me.
The words hung in the air like a spell ready to strike. Harry’s stomach plummeted. “Oh, come on.”
His gaze snapped to Tom Riddle, who didn’t even bother pretending innocence. It was just a stupid childhood crush... He was over it. The man’s token glowed lazily crimson.
“False.” Harry answered firmly.
A sound like thunder rolled through the hall. The truth amulet reacted, too strongly. A ring of light exploded outward, latching onto everyone.
“Uh-oh.” Blaise murmured, watching the glowing, floaty runes slide over his hands. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
The CupidCam hiccuped in static delight. “Oh my! It seems the truth-binding enchantment has expanded! Everyone must now speak only the truth until the game concludes!”
Draco’s eyes widened “Brilliant. I can’t wait to sabotage my own dignity.”
“Same.” Blaise said cheerfully.
Cormac didn’t say anything but seemed overly amused of the situation.
Harry, already flushing, turned to Tom. “You did that on purpose.”
“Yes.” Tom said without hesitation, seeming to not care at all about the consequences. “You look more interesting when you’re irritated. With those pouting lips and red cheeks.”
Harry’s mouth opened. No words came out. Then- “You’re infuriatingly composed and it’s extremely distracting!”
The light of the botched amulet spell pulsed against his chest. Harry raised a hand over his mouth, while releasing a gasp of mortified surprise “Oh, for Merlin’s sake! It’s on me now, isn’t it?”
Draco leaned towards Blaise like a commentator “That’s a confession if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Textbook magical compatibility.” Blaise murmured back “Core resonance. Someone fetch the popcorn.”
Harry heard, and glared at them both, cheeks scarlet in colour “It’s not compatibility, it’s cursed television!” It had to be scripted by that scheming CupidCam, damn it!
Tom tilted his head, eyes bright “Do you often get this flustered, and deny yourself so throughoutly?”
Harry’s half-hearted glare turned to Tom “I- only when you’re- stop talking!”
“True.” The CupidCam chimed merrily.
The spell flickered again, dimming as the game timer ran out. A cheerful bell rang overhead.
“Compatibility test complete!” The camera announced. “Viewers, remember to vote for the contestant whose truth touched your heart the most!”
Harry groaned and rubbed his face, still feeling the embarrassing mortification. “I want to vote myself off.”
Draco raised his glass. “To honesty. And impending chaos.” Blaise responded with a “Cheers.”
Tom’s smirk softened, just a fraction. “Until next game Harry.”
Harry made a strangled noise somewhere between a scoff and a squeak. Turning on his heel and striding out of the hall. The CupidCam floated after him like an overeager Puffskein.
________________________________________________
Meanwhile, at the Granger-Weasley residence.
“And that concludes today’s chose game of love!” Trilled the voice of CupidCam through the glowing surface of the newly invented Wizarding Wireless, magical television. “Again, remember to vote for your favourite contestant and stay tuned for behind-the-scenes confessions of the heart!”
The image shimmered, showing Harry Potter stalking out of the glittering hall, cheeks flushed crimson. Tom Riddle leaning back in his chair with that maddening smirk.
A small pop echoed in the quiet conjoined kitchen-living room space. Hermione and Ron were staring, frozen halfway through dinner.
Ron dropped his fork “Tell me that wasn’t Tom Riddle, spouting those words.”
Hermione’s eyes were wide behind her reading glasses “It was! They didn’t- they possibly weren’t- oh my Godric, they were!” Well, Harry had been keeping some secrets from them.
Ron leaned towards the magical-TV as if shortened distance could help him understand better “Hang on, hang on. Why’s the man wearing formal dress robes? Where’s his wand? Why’s he flirting?!”
Hermione rubbed her temples “Because it’s a love variety show, Ronald.”
“I gathered that part!” Ron jabbed a finger at the screen of the television. “I mean Riddle! As in possibly-maybe-used-to-be-evil Riddle! How’d he even get approved for television?”
“Apparently quite well, as he is now an important member of Wizengamot and the Ministry.” Hermione muttered, watching as the replay zoomed in on Tom Riddle’s face smirking at Harry like he was a delicious dessert. While Harry was as oblivious as ever.
“Listen to the fake audience squealing! Oh honestly, they’ve edited it to make it look romantic!” Ron's tirade continued “Romantic? The man called Harry interesting when irritated! That’s not romance, that’s, that’s Riddle! Look at Harry, he’s about to combust!”
The enchanted CupidCam’s voice announced through the screen “Viewer reaction rating: The highest magical resonance between Harry Potter and Tom Riddle to date!”
Ron’s jaw dropped. “Highest what now?”
Hermione suddenly flustered, and fumbled for her mug of tea. “Oh well... magical resonance isn’t necessarily romantic. It could simply be...”
“The kind where your magic lights up and you confess you find him distracting?” Ron supplied.
Hermione spluttered “Oh, honestly!”
He grinned “You’re just annoyed you didn’t see it coming and didn’t notice this situation earlier.”
“I did see it coming.” She said primly. “I just didn’t think the producer would be so reckless as to... oh dear. He’s storming off, poor Harry.”
Onscreen, Harry’s retreat was followed by Draco and Blaise toasting with champagne.
Ron pointed “Are they... celebrating?”
“Yes.” Hermione said faintly. “They are.”
There was a long pause.
Then Ron said. “We’re watching our best mate’s love life unfold like an abrupt explosion in a potion’s classroom.”
Hermione sighed. Sinking into her chair. “At least, he’s not fighting dark wizards this time. Suppressed feelings are not good for him.”
Ron let out an undignified snort because of that comment “Riddle is a dark wizard, Mione.”
Hermione blinked “Oh, Merlin’s socks.”
The television sparkled cheerfully, replaying the moment Harry shouted, “You’re infuriatingly composed and it’s extremely distracting!”
Realization started to really sink in and Ron wheezed. “Did he, did he just really say that live?”
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “I need a stronger charm for handling secondhand embarrassment.” Maybe it was good that they hadn’t had time to watch how the show had proceeded since its start. As work had kept them immensely busy.
The live broadcast ended with the CupidCam’s sparkly voice, “Up next on Charmed to Love You. Private picnic dates and surprise serenades! Who will capture Harry’s heart next?”
Ron groaned into his hands “Merlin help him.”
Hermione reached for her quill, already scribbling on a notepad. “I’m writing to the producer.” Ron tilted his head in confusion. “To complain?”
“No. To thank them.” She answered grimly. “At least now we’ll finally have proof that Harry and Riddle have some unresolved magical and romantic tension.”
Ron choked on his tea. Coughing while trying to sound words out of his throat “You’re impossible.”
“And right.” Hermione said serenely as the end credits rolled.
________________________________________________
Welcome back wizarding romantics! Five weeks, four suitors, and one very confused bachelor later, the moment of truth has arrived! Will true love triumph over the sea of roses, or will our Harry pull a vanishing act worthy of his fame? Stay tuned, hearts are about to be won and possibly broken!”
The night over the manor was breathtaking. The roses shimmered under the hovering lanterns, their light turning soft and golden, reflecting off the rippling pond. The air smelled faintly of magic and nerves.
Harry stood once again on the terrace, staring down at the garden where four figures waited.
Tom Riddle, calm, dark-eyed, impossible.
Draco Malfoy, perfectly coiffed, swirling champagne like he’d won something else entirely.
Blaise Zabini, radiant, amused, enjoying the drama like a well-scripted play.
Cormac McLaggen, still beaming, though his shirt collar looked suspiciously scorched from some earlier attempt at a show-stopping love-charm.
And above it all, the CupidCam gleamed, humming softly, recording every twitch of Harry’s face for an audience that was likely screaming at their mirrors and magical televisions.
Harry took a breath. The CupidCam had called this, The Grand Choosing. As if he were some ancient prince with a love destiny.
The camera swooped in, gleaming. “Harry, it’s time to make your final choice. Whose heart shall you align with forevermore?”
“Forevermore?” Harry muttered under his breath. “No pressure then.”
From somewhere offscreen, Draco could be heard whispering to Blaise. “Ten galleons says he forgets his speech.”
“Please.” Blaise replied, “He hasn’t had a speech since episode two.”
Harry almost laughed. Almost.
He stepped forward, the garden lights shifted to follow him. Each suitor was framed in glow. Expectant, silent, a little too perfect.
He started with Cormac. “Cormac.” Harry began, trying to sound diplomatic “You’ve been... enthusiastic.”
Cormac grinned “Can’t blame a bloke for trying, Potter.” Harry smiled weakly. “No, but I think your energy might be better spent... somewhere slightly less televised.”
Cormac blinked. “You’re dumping me live?”
Blaise raised his glass he got from Merlin knows where. “Iconic.” Draco clinked his own glass against Blaise’s. “Phenomenal.”
CupidCam let out sparks “One heart unlinked! Three remain!” Harry sighed. “Please stop narrating.”
Then, he turned towards Draco and Blaise. “Draco, Blaise. You’ve both been... a surprise.”
Draco arched a brow. “That sounds like a compliment and an insult at the same time.” Blaise smirked, continuing Draco’s sentence “Which means it’s accurate.”
“Honestly.” Harry said “You two would probably be happier dating each other.” The pair exchanged a secretive look. Then replied in perfect sync “True.”
CupidCam made a delighted sound. “Our first mutual, kind of confession of the finale!” Harry dragged a hand down his face. “Of course it is.”
That left only one.
Tom Riddle stood at the edge of the rose field, the faint shimmer of moonlight catching on his hair, his expression unreadable, but his eyes bright. Too bright.
Harry’s pulse stuttered. “You.” He said simply “You drive me absolutely mad.”
Tom’s lips curved. “And yet you’re still here.” Harry hummed “Unfortunately.”
Tom’s eyes gained a teasing glint “Truthful as ever.”
Harry shook his head, half a laugh slipping out “You know, five weeks ago I thought you were the worst pick for a contestant, this show ever had.”
“And now?” Tom asked, voice low.
Harry hesitated, aware of the camera zooming in, aware of the entire wizarding population of Britain probably holding its collective breath. He said softly “Now I’m not so sure.”
The magic shimmered between them, faint threads of light sparkling from the rose vines, curling around their wrists like a fated blessing from Lady Magic. The enchantment that had hung over the manor for weeks pulsed once and settled.
Draco whispered, “Is this the part where they kiss or where someone faints?” Blaise replied with a just as hushed tone “Both, ideally.”
Harry stepped closer. Tom didn’t move, but his gaze flicked to Harry’s mouth for just a moment. Enough.
Harry muttered, “This is going to make headlines, isn’t it?” Tom let out a small genuine smile. “Undoubtedly.”
“Fine.” Harry said and kissed him.
All else faded from his mind.
The kiss started tentative, a soft brush of lips, testing the waters after five weeks of built-up tension. But then it deepened warm, steady and urgent.
Harry’s hands found Tom’s shoulders, then traced down his arms, feeling the warmth of the subtle pull of magic in the air. The strength of his frame, of his grip. Tom’s hands curled around Harry’s waist, behind his neck, drawing him closer, as the underlying need and passion bled through. Foreheads’ almost touching.
Red rose petals rained down, magic swirled overhead like fireworks. The floating CupidCam zoomed in with giddy glee, framing the pair in glittering gold. They made a breathtaking picture. A perfect blend of emotion and spectacle.
Behind them, Draco and Blaise raised their glasses in a toast, perfectly composed. “To the end of an era.” Draco said, while Blaise added “To the beginning of gossip columns everywhere.”
Cormac sighed dramatically in the background, muttering. “I could’ve gone viral...”
No one paid him much mind.
Harry pulled back. Breath short and cheeks flushed as he looked at Tom, whose expression, for once, had softened into something impossible to describe.
“Guess I’m stuck with you now.” Harry said. Tom’s smirk returned, gentle this time “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said all season.” Well, the teasing had gone nowhere.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t push your luck.”
The music swelled, roses glowed, and CupidCam’s voice rose triumphantly above it all.
“And there you have it, viewers! A destined match made in magical mayhem! Tune in for the next season of Charmed to Love You: The Second Spell! Application now open!”
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Months later, Harry and Tom were seated comfortably in a floating, softly glowing studio of the Wizarding Wireless Network. Enchanted microphones hovered before them, and the faint scent of roses, courtesy of the shows signature magical touch, drifted in the air.
The theme music that Harry himself had never heard before jingled. A bubbly mix of harp strings, chimes, and sparkling magical sounds. The bright and overly cheerful radio host’s voice boomed.
“Welcome, wizarding Britain to, Charmed to Love You: The Afterglow! The radio show where love is magical, advice is questionable, and chaos is practically guaranteed. And I’m your host, Rita Skeeter.“
Harry coughed nervously. Tom leaned back, smirking, one arm casually draped across the back of his chair.
“So... any advice for the lovelorn witches and wizards hoping to capture someone’s heart?” Skeeter asked, feigning cool interest.
Harry blinked. “Uh... maybe don’t sign unbreakable contracts with mysterious floating cameras?”
Tom chuckled “And always trust your magical instincts... but read the fine print first. Very important.”
A confetti of enchanted rose petals burst mid-air, stubbornly floating in place. Again, courtesy of Charmed to Love You. They might have branded a bit too strongly in Harry’s opinion, as he swatted a few petals away from his face. “Also... beware of magical compatibility tests. They are... intense.”
Skeeter laughed knowingly. “Intense? That’s putting it lightly!”
The pair of them bantered back and forth. Harry awkwardly, Tom effortlessly. Giving hilariously specific advice.
How to know if someone likes you? “If their wand sparks around you, that’s a good sign.”
First date ideas? “A romantic broomstick ride, or just a picnic in the garden with sentient flowers. Either works.”
Handling magical jealousy? “Turn them into a small frog for five minutes... kidding. Mostly.”
Meanwhile, Hermione listening in on the radio segment through a hand mirror at home, muttered “I told you he’d survive it!” Sitting beside her, Ron groaned. “I can’t believe he’s giving relationship advice now...”
The segment ended with laughter, lingering rose-scented magic, and Rita Skeeter teasing the new season. “Stay tuned, wizarding Britain... because Charmed to Love You: The Second Spell is just around the corner!”
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Bonus Scene: Draco’s Dramatic Plight
In the soft glow of evening, Draco Malfoy reclined in his immaculate study, quill hovering over a crisp sheet of parchment. A cup of specifically imported tea made from rare magical ingredients steamed nearby, untouched.
Before him floated a glittering pamphlet, its letters shifting colours like a hypnotic charm. The words looking so ostentatious, that they could have been thrown at his face.
Casting Now! Be a part of Charmed to Love You: The Second Spell!
Produced by Gilderoy Lockhart
Draco’s eyes gleamed. “Honestly.” He muttered to himself. “If Harry can survive that ridiculous love variety show as a bachelor, and somehow make it look romantic, imagine what I could do. Totally something better.”
The enchanted quill twitched, waiting. Draco smirked, leaning back. “They’ll need someone with poise. With wit. With grace. And perhaps...” He gave a small, calculated sigh. “A touch of tragedy.”
So, with a dramatic flourish, he signed his name in sweeping silver ink. The parchment glowed, twirled once, and vanished with a pop of golden confetti.
A voice from the doorway drawled “You realize you’re going to regret that?”
Draco turned, finding Blaise Zabini leaning lazily against the doorway. Arms crossed and amused.
“Me? Regret?” Draco arched an elegant brow. “Please. I was born for the spotlight.”
Blaise chuckled. “And for dramatics, clearly.”
Draco sniffed, pretending offense. “I prefer to think of it as presentation.”
The two exchanged a knowing look. One of long-suffering friendship and mutual anticipation of the inevitable chaos. Blaise shook his head, lips twitching.
“When you end up kissing someone on live mirror broadcast, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Draco smirked. “Oh, I’ll do far more than that. Season two won’t know what hit it.”
And, as the last of the parchment’s golden confetti sparkles faded, Draco lifted his teacup in a solitary toast to his own brilliance.
“Here’s to romance.” He declared softly. “And high ratings.”