Harry woke up with a smile, not yet noticing the note, and before he noticed, Ron was at his bed in his face; "Hey Harry, what's this?" Ron said waving the note in Harry's face before the raven-haired boy could fully wake up. Harry's eyes widened worried about what his best friend would say about a secret admirer. Ron opened the letter without asking and read over what Harry could only assume, the same beautifully scripted flirtatious sentences ever written.
"You need to go see Dumbledore, Harry. Apparently he needs you this early on a Saturday," Ron spoke already bored of what he thought would be drama. The red-headed boy dropped the note into Harry's lap before standing and exciting the room, Harry assumed to either find his little sister or Hermione. The boy-hero quickly grabbed the note up and opened in back up, reading thought it himself this time.
Harry Potter
I want to play a game. I want to get to you know you a little better, and you can get to know me a bit better as well. Kind of like a 20 questions game only more fun, and secretive. In return for playing this game you can guess who I am and if you get it right, I will truthfully admit who I am. If you guess and you are wrong, I can ask you a more personal embarrassing question. Both of us have to answer truthfully. If you wish to reply you can Send a letter to the owlery. I have already alerted my owl to await a letter from Hedwig. Sweet dreams, sweet Harry.
Sincerely
Your Secret Admirer
P.S. these letters are enchanted so no one else can read them unless you give the permission.
Harry read through the note happy to have gotten another letter from his secret admirer. He really wanted to know who this person was, but at the same time the secrecy and anonymity of it was quite fun and exciting.
He immediately sat down at the desk near his bed and started writing up a response.
Secret Admirer,
Secrecy sounds fun, and kind of exciting. Everyone always knows my business it'll be nice to have someone for myself, and for you and I. It's a good way to start things off. You probably know quite a bit about me as it is, but as I don't know you you are. What year are you in? Your favorite color? Would I be lucky enough to be told what house you are in. Or would that be to much like giving away who you are. By the way, you have the most exquisite handwriting. It makes calligraphers look bad.
Sincerely
Harry Potter
P.S. my favorite color is red. It has a weird story behind it. It's not just my house colors, just to clarify that I'm not that lame.
Harry Sealed his letter in a white envelope charmed it to read otherwise to anyone other than his secret admirer, whomever that might be, and send Hedwig, his beautiful snow owl into the early morning rays of sun gleaming in every direction of Hogwarts. Even for being over 1,000 years old, the large castle was still standing fully functional and as beautiful as it was when it was first made in 993 BC.
Harry very quickly made his way down to the Great Hall just in time to get morning mail. Owls flew overhead their large wings flapping slightly making the hot, still air of nearly 300 students quiver and stir around the awaiting hall. Mail began to fall all around him, but somehow the only owl that caught his eye was the fawn colored spotted owl that dropped off his first letter. It flew over the Slytherin table. Dropping an envelope directly into the arms of Pansy Parkinson. Harry shuttered slightly and shook his head clear hoping he had gotten that owl mixed up with another very similar one.
Mind you Harry, the boy-hero, didn't necessarily have a problem with Pansy, but he didn't necessarily like her either. She was snobby, with a pug like nose. A nose that happened to always turned up in dissatisfaction. She was a Slytherin, but that wasn't a problem with Harry, he stopped judging people for their house after 1st year. It was now 5th year, besides he was sixteen years old, it was time for him to grow up if had a problem with it. Just because someone is in Slytherin doesn't make them bad.
Harry decided to skip breakfast he had a lot of thought to put into what he would do if it did happen to be Pansy-Pug-Faced-Parkinson. Whoever the secret admirer was, they did have quite a way of being a helpless romantic, and that's something Harry found endearing. Someone wanted to flirt with him, make the first move. He was far more used to women wanting him to make the first move, which when he had the few times he's tried to get romantic with a girl at Hogwarts he ended up striking out and making a huge fool of himself. He was not good with the ladies, to say the least. It was a horror show watching him fail over and over again, but that's the life of "Perfect Potter" as Malfoy calls him. Except that's what the ones on the outside may see, perfection, but that was the farthest from the truth anyone could ever get.
He shook his head like a wet dog, dislodging any passing bad thought. Harry sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He was getting far to invested in the secret admirer stuff. It could very well just be a joke, and he knew that, really he did, but he hoped it wasn't. He didn't want to think someone was doing this to get under his skin, or hurt him, but that's exactly what he was thinking especially if it was Pansy. He couldn't see her truthfully flirting with him of her own free will. He just didn't want to get his hopes up like he has before, to many times.
As he was about to give up on the whole admirer business for the day, get it off his mind, he heard clicking at the window and and flap of an owls wings. Sighing Harry got up from his position on the bed making quick work of crossing the room and letting the beautiful bird in. He shut the bird in just for good measure so that he could send out a reply without it flying off. The bird did not like that and it pecked it the window, restlessly trying to get back out into the cool morning air.
Harry Potter,
I seen you missed breakfast this morning, what a shame I was hoping to see your handsome face in the Crowd of red clad Gryffindors. My favorite color, like yours, is red. Why did you say your story of red being your favorite color was weird. If it's so out there why don't you tell me? It can't be that odd, Potter. I'm a 5th year, just like yourself, and I guess it wouldn't hurt to at least tell you what house I'm in. Slytherin, but I'm not a horrible git anymore, to that I promise. I just want to live and be happy now; hence why I'm taking a chance with this- with us. Hopefully, it works in my favor, and if not at least I tried.
Sincerely,
Your Secret Admirer
Harry laughed to himself at the hesitation, question, and vulnerability in the small paragraph written. It was kind of cute how the admirer opened herself up to such things being a slytherin and such. Harry quickly grabs a piece of parchment paper and scribbles down a note back to his admirer before her bloody bird busts his window.
Secret Admirer,
In my year there are only 9 people that got placed in Slytherin. Boys being Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini. Girls being Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Millicent Bullstrode, and Tracy Davis. You have to be one of those 9, and if that is so we've either never talked, or never got along. What's to say this isn't a big trick on me. To answer your question my favorite color is red, because when I was 3 and at the Dursleys there was a pot of poinsettias in front of the window. It was night time and had just snowed earlier in the day, the bright red against the dark blue sky, and snowy white ground was such a beautiful contrast. I remember that day very clearly, it was the first time I seen something that truly made me happy. Sappy of me, I know. Anyhow, when do you plan on telling me who you are? Or do you plan on continuing this forever. This unknown game of guess who.
Sincerely
Harry Potter
Harry knew he was being snappy for no reason to someone that was being nice to him at every corner, but he didn't much like the odds that were now towering against him. The likelihood that this was just another one of those every other day Slytherin jokes. He didn't like that. Yet, all the same, he sealed the letter up, charmed it and gave it to the bloody bird that was now flying around the room in pure aggravation. Then he opened the window and let the bird fee. Knowing it would somehow get that letter back to whomever was writing him those letters. Even the owl knew more than Harry. The raven haired boy flopped backwards onto his bed and sighed, throwing his arm over his head, which was now throbbing with an oncoming headache. He laid there, trying to drown out the world, succeeding in that only after falling fast asleep thinking of nothing but his secret admirer.