Harry's first day was a nightmare. Potions was as bad as Oliver had warned. Harry tried to explain that he was essentially a muggleborn and his aunt and uncle had locked away his textbooks, but Snape did not even bother listening.
His other classes went much better. By dinner he couldn't wait to get to bed. Well he couldn't wait to find Oliver and hear more about the magical world. Harry just loved hearing Oliver's voice. Harry loved looking into Oliver's deep chocolate eyes. He couldn't wait to run his hands across Oliver's quidditch-toned chest of legs. Harry had it bad for the Fifth Year.
Harry had made friends. He quickly befriended Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas, his fellow dorm mates. Ron was definitely the one he knew the best. Yet Harry longed to be with Oliver. Harry just didn't feel right around the others. But when he sat with Oliver he felt like he was in heaven. He didn't talk to the girls in his year, but he didn't care.
As soon as it was time for dinner he made a break for the Great Hall. While the other First Year boys made a B-line for the top end (toward the staff table) of the table, Harry went for the middle. Ron gave him a weird glare, but Harry ignored it.
Now was his chance. He snuck up on an unsuspecting individual…
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