Chapter 1: Stupidly in Love

Alexandra Night

Harry Potter

Fanfiction

8 November 2014

Love Ain't No Thinking Thing

It is true what they say, people do stupid things when they are in love. Here, I'll show you what I mean:

I was standing between Malfoy and Bulstrode as Malfoy was tormenting Harry and his friends. I sigh, it was just another Saturday morning. Just as usual, I kept my mouth shut, only flinching a little whenever Malfoy's insults hit too close to home for Harry. Then it happened:

"Potter, you are such a disgrace to the name of wizard that only a Mudblood slut like Granger, or a blood traitor like the Weaslette could ever love you." Malfoy claimed.

I didn't know that I am moving until my fist collided with the ferret's face.

"How dare you say that, ferret face! Do I look like a Mudblood slut, or a blood traitor? As I run the Slytherin rumor mill, I KNOW that you know that I fancy Harry. Now, I refuse to try to force you to like Harry, and I will not get in the middle of a spat between two teenage boys. I am too much of a REAL Slytherin to do that, but if you insult me again, you will get this fist where the sun don't shine, do you fucking understand me?!" I shouted. Malfoy nodded dumbly. As I turned to stomp back to the dungeons, I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around and saw Harry smirking at me. Malfoy and his goons had already left to go torment first years. This brought me to the present:

"Harry," I gasp. This was the closest I have ever been to my crush. I was also in the worst position possible. I had just done the stupidest thing, openly declaring the flame that I held for Harry while simultaneously defending his honor.

To a girl from a family with a progressive stance, it would have been perfectly normal, but my family's magic held to the Old Ways, and had departed from my body as soon as I forsook them in my actions. The thing is, the gland that holds the family magic CANNOT be devoid of magic for more than a few minutes. Soon, my gland would reach out to the nearest magical core for grounding. The nearest being Harry's.

If the smirk on Harry's face was any indication, he must have known this, as well as the effects of such a bond. The thing is, I couldn't think of anyone else who I could even stand having that much control over my magic. I didn't even like that my father had had that much control over my magic, for Merlin's sake! So I just stood there patiently as my least favorite gland tied my magic down again.

"Harry," I said, "please let me follow my dreams like my father never would. Please don't put a limit on what I can do like my father did. I know he was doing it to protect me, but I want to be a warrior witch."

"Then you will be one, my dear," Harry said, "you will be my warrior witch. I will set up the required rituals for you."

"But Harry," I protested, "you are the future leader of the light. Some of the rituals required for a witch to become a proper warrior are quite dark."

"Oh, please," Harry deadpanned, "the wankers in the ministry classify Werewolves, who are merely the victims of a disease, as dark creatures. I don't believe any of their classifications. Also, I am far from the next leader of the light. I'd be far more likely to be the next dark lord, and you know how unlikely that is."

"Dark Lord Harry," I snorted in an unladylike manner, "oh please!"

"Exactly!"

My flame for Harry grew steadily as the conversation went on. By the time we actually got to planning for the rituals, I was nearly ready to jump him. Once the rituals were all planned out, I tackled him to the floor and began to snog him passionately. He didn't seem to mind.

We made out for what seemed like hours, not noticing the growing crowd of spectators. It wasn't until someone cleared their throat that we broke apart, blushing.

"Get a room!" someone yelled.

As we had already planned to make use of the room of requirement later, I grabbed Harry by the hand, whispering "room of requirement, now!" We ran to a certain secret passage between the entrance hall and the seventh floor and Harry shouted the password. Once we were in, we ran up the magically shortened staircase, two steps at a time, until we reached the seventh floor. Stepping out into the seventh floor corridor, we ran to the wall adjacent to the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

Thinking of the ritual chamber and living quarters, programmed into the room by its creator, Rowena Ravenclaw, who had wanted a place to use that was less fickle that the ordinary fantasies projected by the room; they entered the door that appeared. It was similar in principle to the room of hidden things, put in by Rowena's husband, Salazar Slytherin.

Having had a long day, they retired to the bedchambers.

Author's Note: Whoever guesses the pairing first gets a virtual cookie. Cheers!