Prologue

Quidditch is an interesting enough sport, but not when my mind kept wandering back Harry's messy black hair, lightly brushing across his forehead in the summer night's breeze, or the way his eyes caught the light and seemed to be shining, or imagining how he would look without that blasted shirt on....

Within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the green-clad supporters, but I couldn't force myself to pick up anything else.

What had Harry done to me?

I had to sort out how I felt. I'd have more time later to do so, but I had to understand it. Was it possible - could I actually like him? I'd never thought of him in that way, he was my best friend, but I was friends with plenty of boys at Hogwarts and I'd never felt this way about any of them.

As my eyes trailed down from his hair, jaw, and his lips to his chest covered loosely by his shirt, it hit me like a blow to the chest - I liked my best friend.

𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝓃 𝐻𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒫𝑜𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇.

~

When Y/n's mother passed away and her father is convicted and locked up in Azkaban, her grandmother takes her in, raising her for her whole childhood. She was never one to shield Y/n from the truth, hence the reason Y/n knows about her past, the way her mother died and why she has a lightening shaped scar on her neck. The two things she doesn't know, however, is who the boy in the picture is, or why she didn't get her Hogwarts letter until she was 13.

(I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, ALL CREDITS GO TO J.K. ROWLING. THIS STORY IS IN NO WAY BEING ASSOCIATED WITH WARNER BROS OR J.K. ROWLING.)

*This story is built for a female reader, I apologize if this is not the kind of thing you are looking for*

Year 3: ✔️
Year 4: ✍🏼
Year 5: ~
Year 6: ~
Year 7: ~

✔️ - Finished
✍🏼 - Currently Writing
~ - Not quite there yet :)