Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, there'd be a few things in the series I'd change....
*
The crystalline frost crunched under his bare feet as he dashed across the lawn to get the morning paper. The crisp autumn air met his face, and he could feel his nose stinging and his cheeks going numb.
Harry reached the end of the yard, scooped up the newspaper which was blanketed in ice, and made a long dash back to the house.
Harry stepped inside, immediately his body began to thaw, and he took a moment to stand in front of the fireplace.
"Harry? That you? Did you get the paper like mom asked you to?" Ron came around the corner from the kitchen, and took a place beside Harry in front of the warm, dancing flames.
Harry shrugged, and tossed the paper to the couch, rubbing his hands together, and shivering. Though not as much as he had been.
Ron stood there for a minute, keeping Harry company, then gave a big sigh, and flopped down on the couch to read the paper.
"Mum always makes ME read the Daily Prophet. And she knows how much I don't give a damn about all this rubbish." Ron slid the rubber band off the roll, and unfolded it, straightening it out in his hands.
Harry watched him for a bit, then turned back to the fire. He so wished to just stand here all day, but he had school.
*
The two boys walked together down the sidewalk. Both were bundled up in heaps of clothing, but it didn't seem to help much. It was still cold as an icy glacier.
Harry watched his breath come out in front of his face in small clouds. It was supposed to snow soon, as winter was only a few weeks away.
Ron was staring at his feet as he walked, a habit that Harry soon took notice of. Ron seemed to have nothing better to do, than watch his shoes move along pavement.
They passed miles of dying nothingness, and everything was bare and frost bitten. The grass was white as snow, and there was ice frozen on the sidewalk, something the boys had to be careful of.
Harry avoided a large slick of it, and hopped over it absentmindedly. He was too busy daydreaming, and had his mind on other things.
He glanced at his friend Ron. What if he knew his secret? What if he didn't, but found out sooner or later? Harry gulped and kept walking in silence.
*
Harry and Ron parted ways and went to two separate classes. Harry waved bye to Ron, and jogged up the long stairwell that all the students met when they first entered.
And then as he reached the top, he was met by yet another glorious site. The Main Court. It was the biggest area of this large Academy, one of the best on Britain.
The ceilings were plastered and molded in gold, far up as the eye could see. It made anyone feel small and less superior. The floor was pure white marble. Greek paintings of rich colors were thriving on the walls, and golden statues stood guard in every hallway entrance.
From the Main Court, it branched off into three sections; Girls, Boys, and the Library. Harry was on his way down the boy's hall, on his way to his first class.
He stepped inside the classroom, which was beautiful like everything else in the Academy. The walls were PURE white, the cleanest, brightest, whitest white you could imagine. The carpet was rich and wine colored. Even the desks were Cherry Oak.
He took a seat, and sat up straight, admiring his surroundings. It was all so perfect, but why didn't he like it that way?
Harry slumped over a bit in his seat, and rested his chin in his hands. Then something caught his attention.
Across the room, a young boy with a pale face and inky black eyes was smiling at him. He also had messy, untidy black hair. He sort of reminded Harry as himself, except Harry's eyes were green.
The boy's name was Tray, and Harry only knew him in the halls, where they walked to class together.
Harry waved, smiling generously, and Tray waved back. Soon, the bell rang and it was time for class. The bell had made Harry jump.
"Gentleman, please pull out your Shakespeare Books, and turn to scene four. We will start from where we left off yesterday. Mr.O'Hara, would you be so kind as to start us off?"
Tray cleared his throat and flipped the pages. "Of course Sir." Tray glanced at Harry, then began to read.
Harry watched Tray's tender lips move passionately as each word flew from them with each breath. Tray read with such enthusiasm, so much love, and it gave Harry the chills. Harry got goose bumps on the nape of his neck, and his jaw tightened.
Tray's black eyes darted back and forth, reading over each word. Harry knew the truth now. There was no doubt. He cared for this boy. He cared for Tray O'Hara.
*
A/N: Please review! I don't like to call this a slash, it's a mere romance. Review!...Julie
*
The crystalline frost crunched under his bare feet as he dashed across the lawn to get the morning paper. The crisp autumn air met his face, and he could feel his nose stinging and his cheeks going numb.
Harry reached the end of the yard, scooped up the newspaper which was blanketed in ice, and made a long dash back to the house.
Harry stepped inside, immediately his body began to thaw, and he took a moment to stand in front of the fireplace.
"Harry? That you? Did you get the paper like mom asked you to?" Ron came around the corner from the kitchen, and took a place beside Harry in front of the warm, dancing flames.
Harry shrugged, and tossed the paper to the couch, rubbing his hands together, and shivering. Though not as much as he had been.
Ron stood there for a minute, keeping Harry company, then gave a big sigh, and flopped down on the couch to read the paper.
"Mum always makes ME read the Daily Prophet. And she knows how much I don't give a damn about all this rubbish." Ron slid the rubber band off the roll, and unfolded it, straightening it out in his hands.
Harry watched him for a bit, then turned back to the fire. He so wished to just stand here all day, but he had school.
*
The two boys walked together down the sidewalk. Both were bundled up in heaps of clothing, but it didn't seem to help much. It was still cold as an icy glacier.
Harry watched his breath come out in front of his face in small clouds. It was supposed to snow soon, as winter was only a few weeks away.
Ron was staring at his feet as he walked, a habit that Harry soon took notice of. Ron seemed to have nothing better to do, than watch his shoes move along pavement.
They passed miles of dying nothingness, and everything was bare and frost bitten. The grass was white as snow, and there was ice frozen on the sidewalk, something the boys had to be careful of.
Harry avoided a large slick of it, and hopped over it absentmindedly. He was too busy daydreaming, and had his mind on other things.
He glanced at his friend Ron. What if he knew his secret? What if he didn't, but found out sooner or later? Harry gulped and kept walking in silence.
*
Harry and Ron parted ways and went to two separate classes. Harry waved bye to Ron, and jogged up the long stairwell that all the students met when they first entered.
And then as he reached the top, he was met by yet another glorious site. The Main Court. It was the biggest area of this large Academy, one of the best on Britain.
The ceilings were plastered and molded in gold, far up as the eye could see. It made anyone feel small and less superior. The floor was pure white marble. Greek paintings of rich colors were thriving on the walls, and golden statues stood guard in every hallway entrance.
From the Main Court, it branched off into three sections; Girls, Boys, and the Library. Harry was on his way down the boy's hall, on his way to his first class.
He stepped inside the classroom, which was beautiful like everything else in the Academy. The walls were PURE white, the cleanest, brightest, whitest white you could imagine. The carpet was rich and wine colored. Even the desks were Cherry Oak.
He took a seat, and sat up straight, admiring his surroundings. It was all so perfect, but why didn't he like it that way?
Harry slumped over a bit in his seat, and rested his chin in his hands. Then something caught his attention.
Across the room, a young boy with a pale face and inky black eyes was smiling at him. He also had messy, untidy black hair. He sort of reminded Harry as himself, except Harry's eyes were green.
The boy's name was Tray, and Harry only knew him in the halls, where they walked to class together.
Harry waved, smiling generously, and Tray waved back. Soon, the bell rang and it was time for class. The bell had made Harry jump.
"Gentleman, please pull out your Shakespeare Books, and turn to scene four. We will start from where we left off yesterday. Mr.O'Hara, would you be so kind as to start us off?"
Tray cleared his throat and flipped the pages. "Of course Sir." Tray glanced at Harry, then began to read.
Harry watched Tray's tender lips move passionately as each word flew from them with each breath. Tray read with such enthusiasm, so much love, and it gave Harry the chills. Harry got goose bumps on the nape of his neck, and his jaw tightened.
Tray's black eyes darted back and forth, reading over each word. Harry knew the truth now. There was no doubt. He cared for this boy. He cared for Tray O'Hara.
*
A/N: Please review! I don't like to call this a slash, it's a mere romance. Review!...Julie