DISCLAIMER: I do not own the wonderful world of Harry Potter. I also do
not own Disney. I am the proud owner of four cute little wind-up penguin
dancers though.
When Harry stepped into the Great Hall later that evening, he could feel his teacher's eyes on him. He could feel the lust coming from several of them, male and female. He could also feel the knowing twinkle that he had come to associate with his mentor, Albus Dumbledore, twinkle just a little more. He sat down with his friends and waited for the sorting to get over so he could eat. After all, he was a seventeen-year-old boy and they only have two things on their minds: food and sex. And Harry certainly had both on his mind.
While everyone in the hall was looking at him, he was secretly stealing glances to his sexy love. He loved the way his hair softly rested on his shoulders, the way his eyes gave away his emotions, and the way he held himself, ever the Slythern.
Harry was so caught up in his secret gazing that he failed to notice when the sorting was over and the food was enticing his senses. He quickly composed himself and proceeded to eat everything in site, much to the displeasure of the occupants of the hall, who with every bite he took, wished they could be the food that he was so skillfully devouring.
Dessert was just starting when Hedwig flew in and dropped a letter in both Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy's plates. Both recipients could not control the look of shock that overcame their face upon receiving a letter from the infamous snowy owl. They both quickly opened their letters and dropped them just as quickly. Knowing eyes met emerald in quick understanding, a small nod of the head showing acknowledgement. Stunned eyes were still in shock as they too locked with emerald. There was no nod of acknowledgement this time, only confusion. But it was not the stunned eyes that showed the confusion; it was the emerald, in a clever ruse to throw the still stunned orbs off track. When the owner of the stunned eyes held up the letter, Harry showed with his eyes that he knew nothing of what it said or what it was about. This left our favorite Slythern in an even more confused state, as he was sure it was his owl that had dropped the letter in his plate. But someone else could have used his owl, anyone on the train, in fact.
The feast ended shortly after, leaving everyone free to go dream and plot their capture of the god-like creature that was gracing their presence for the next ten months.
Meanwhile, in the Head Boy's room, the current Head Boy was sitting with the current Head Girl, her boyfriend, and everyone's favorite Irish Gryffindor.
"So, Harry," Seamus began.
"So, Seamus," retorted Harry.
"I have no chance do I?" he answered honestly.
"No chance."
"Damn. We could have made music, too."
"Yeah, probably really bad music that nobody want to listen," Ron interjected.
"Hey! I make music, damned good music!" Seamus said.
"Are you sure that it isn't just in your head?" asked Hermione very politely.
Seamus thought for a second before answering. "You know, I think you might be right. Damn. And here I was thinking I was good."
"Oh, I don't doubt it. But nobody makes music. Except people who actually make music," said Ron.
"That made little to no sense. But sadly I still understood it," Harry said as he shook his head.
"Now, Harry, I still don't understand how you are going to accomplish this. How do you even know he is gay?" the always thinking Hermione asked.
"You are just going to have to trust me on this one. It was something he yelled at me sometime last year. It got me thinking and in turn, paying attention to everything he did. And trust me, the signs all point to he would prefer the company of males to females."
"Whatever you say, mate. Best of luck to you. I don't think anyone can crack that icy exterior," Ron said shacking his head.
"Trust me. If what you guys say is true, then I will have him screaming my name by Christmas."
"Too much information!"
Meanwhile, down in the dark depths of the dungeons, the recipient of a very vague love note was silently pondering whom it could be from. The way it was written left one to wonder if it was written by a male or a female. He certainly hoped it was a male who had penned the very well written letter, or else they would be getting a rude awakening when they found out he preferred the company of his own gender.
I love the way you try to hide what you are feeling, only to have your eyes betray you.
This person obviously had spent a good deal of time watching him, for no one else had ever noticed how his eyes really did convey his real emotions.
I love the way you look when you are hunched over a potion, trying desperately to block out the world while you concentrate on the subtle science and the exact art of potion making.
They had defiantly spent a lot of time watching him. He could rarely ever be seen hunched over a cauldron, and if he was, he knew that he was indeed trying to block out the world. But he was under the firm impression that everyone thought it was just his nature to be a prat to everyone when he didn't want to be bothered.
Most of all, I love it when you get angry or upset and your eyes flash. I know then that I have struck a cord, for not a lot could get your eyes to show the emotion that your perfect face is showing the world.
It was this that made him think that it was Potter who had sent the letter. Not many people, if any, could get him really upset, Potter being on the top of a very short list. But there was no way that the Golden Gryffindor could ever return the feelings that he himself had been hiding for a good part of a year. It was almost laughable. But it was those feelings for the god-like creature that now graced the halls that made him one of the few that could get his genuinely upset.
With a sigh, the owner of the unsigned love letter stood up and went to bed, hoping tomorrow would shed light on who his mystery lover was.
When Harry stepped into the Great Hall later that evening, he could feel his teacher's eyes on him. He could feel the lust coming from several of them, male and female. He could also feel the knowing twinkle that he had come to associate with his mentor, Albus Dumbledore, twinkle just a little more. He sat down with his friends and waited for the sorting to get over so he could eat. After all, he was a seventeen-year-old boy and they only have two things on their minds: food and sex. And Harry certainly had both on his mind.
While everyone in the hall was looking at him, he was secretly stealing glances to his sexy love. He loved the way his hair softly rested on his shoulders, the way his eyes gave away his emotions, and the way he held himself, ever the Slythern.
Harry was so caught up in his secret gazing that he failed to notice when the sorting was over and the food was enticing his senses. He quickly composed himself and proceeded to eat everything in site, much to the displeasure of the occupants of the hall, who with every bite he took, wished they could be the food that he was so skillfully devouring.
Dessert was just starting when Hedwig flew in and dropped a letter in both Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy's plates. Both recipients could not control the look of shock that overcame their face upon receiving a letter from the infamous snowy owl. They both quickly opened their letters and dropped them just as quickly. Knowing eyes met emerald in quick understanding, a small nod of the head showing acknowledgement. Stunned eyes were still in shock as they too locked with emerald. There was no nod of acknowledgement this time, only confusion. But it was not the stunned eyes that showed the confusion; it was the emerald, in a clever ruse to throw the still stunned orbs off track. When the owner of the stunned eyes held up the letter, Harry showed with his eyes that he knew nothing of what it said or what it was about. This left our favorite Slythern in an even more confused state, as he was sure it was his owl that had dropped the letter in his plate. But someone else could have used his owl, anyone on the train, in fact.
The feast ended shortly after, leaving everyone free to go dream and plot their capture of the god-like creature that was gracing their presence for the next ten months.
Meanwhile, in the Head Boy's room, the current Head Boy was sitting with the current Head Girl, her boyfriend, and everyone's favorite Irish Gryffindor.
"So, Harry," Seamus began.
"So, Seamus," retorted Harry.
"I have no chance do I?" he answered honestly.
"No chance."
"Damn. We could have made music, too."
"Yeah, probably really bad music that nobody want to listen," Ron interjected.
"Hey! I make music, damned good music!" Seamus said.
"Are you sure that it isn't just in your head?" asked Hermione very politely.
Seamus thought for a second before answering. "You know, I think you might be right. Damn. And here I was thinking I was good."
"Oh, I don't doubt it. But nobody makes music. Except people who actually make music," said Ron.
"That made little to no sense. But sadly I still understood it," Harry said as he shook his head.
"Now, Harry, I still don't understand how you are going to accomplish this. How do you even know he is gay?" the always thinking Hermione asked.
"You are just going to have to trust me on this one. It was something he yelled at me sometime last year. It got me thinking and in turn, paying attention to everything he did. And trust me, the signs all point to he would prefer the company of males to females."
"Whatever you say, mate. Best of luck to you. I don't think anyone can crack that icy exterior," Ron said shacking his head.
"Trust me. If what you guys say is true, then I will have him screaming my name by Christmas."
"Too much information!"
Meanwhile, down in the dark depths of the dungeons, the recipient of a very vague love note was silently pondering whom it could be from. The way it was written left one to wonder if it was written by a male or a female. He certainly hoped it was a male who had penned the very well written letter, or else they would be getting a rude awakening when they found out he preferred the company of his own gender.
I love the way you try to hide what you are feeling, only to have your eyes betray you.
This person obviously had spent a good deal of time watching him, for no one else had ever noticed how his eyes really did convey his real emotions.
I love the way you look when you are hunched over a potion, trying desperately to block out the world while you concentrate on the subtle science and the exact art of potion making.
They had defiantly spent a lot of time watching him. He could rarely ever be seen hunched over a cauldron, and if he was, he knew that he was indeed trying to block out the world. But he was under the firm impression that everyone thought it was just his nature to be a prat to everyone when he didn't want to be bothered.
Most of all, I love it when you get angry or upset and your eyes flash. I know then that I have struck a cord, for not a lot could get your eyes to show the emotion that your perfect face is showing the world.
It was this that made him think that it was Potter who had sent the letter. Not many people, if any, could get him really upset, Potter being on the top of a very short list. But there was no way that the Golden Gryffindor could ever return the feelings that he himself had been hiding for a good part of a year. It was almost laughable. But it was those feelings for the god-like creature that now graced the halls that made him one of the few that could get his genuinely upset.
With a sigh, the owner of the unsigned love letter stood up and went to bed, hoping tomorrow would shed light on who his mystery lover was.