Red Roses

Before I start the story, here's a few notes…

This story is rated T, but will not go further than kissing.

This story is set in Harry's fourth year.

The plots of the books play no part in this story at all, as they don't exist.

All characters, settings ect. belong to JK Rowling except the ones who you probably know are mine, as they are never mentioned in the books and never will be.

All italics are thoughts.

Sunlight streamed through the Gryffindor 4th years window. Harry lay, in his bed, wide awake, ears opened to every discreet sound in the hope, the uttermost wanting that Hedwig would return today, after three weeks of waiting for a reply.

Harry had sent a plea for help to his Godfather, Sirius, requesting advice by the 14th, and as Harry's watch slowly ticked, no sign of an owl appeared. His heart sank. It was too much to hope that after Sirius had started seeing…her…he would have time to care about Harry, or anyone for that matter. Sirius was preoccupied these days with what he called his "humming bird," or his girlfriend, Maria Van Troughen, the exotic beauty from Aisa, a famous witch but what for Harry did not know.

Well, I'll just have to go through with it then. Harry checked his watch. It read 4:20am, 14/02/05. He still had time. He reached under his bed for the tiny pink parcel he had bought in Hogsmede last weekend, when he had seen the receiver of his gift trying on the 50 galleon necklace and then taking it off again, with a wistful look in her eyes.

Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak, the Marauders Map and the parcel and crept slowly out of the boys dormitory and into the girls. How he managed, he didn't know, he guessed the invisibility cloak shielded him from the charms of the staircase. He quickened his pace, until he reached the door and he stopped for breath. Well, here goes nothing. Harry reached for the doorknob, holding his breath, and pulled. He was shocked to find he was still standing there five minutes later, staring at the pretty girl named Chestnut River, the girl of his dreams. She was a new fourth year, her old school was closed after the headmistress died, and Harry was smitten by her individuality, which was displayed from her name to her looks.

He crept to the foot of her bed, left the present at the end of her bed and hurried out again. By the time he reached his bed again he was exhausted and collapsed, forgetting to listen for Hedwig, onto his bed, and wasn't wakened by Neville's prominent snores or the quiet girl creeping into his room at 6:00…