𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

chapter 1

Chapter One -

Harry sniffled quietly as he turned another page. He was curled in an isolated corner of the Hogwarts kitchens, a plate of sweets on the nearby tabletop and a book in his hands. He'd developed a habit of sneaking into the low-ceilinged room almost daily, the last few weeks.

"Master Harry! Yous is crying, is everything being alright?" Winky, bless her soul, had taken it upon herself to look after him, perhaps to distract herself from her own lack of a bound family. He wasn't fond of being called "Master" but she was stubborn and set in her ways.

Instead of the white, toga-like garb of the other house-elves employed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Winky had donned a simple pink dress that was most likely made for a young girl. She was barefoot, like the other elves, and had a frilly white apron draped over her neck and tied around her waist. It was an amusing sight, but Harry wouldn't do her the dishonor of laughing at her.

He looked up at her with watery eyes. He was crying? Harry lifted a hand and rubbed at his eyes furiously. Winky graciously held out a tissue for him and he used it to blow his nose. "No, I'm fine, Winky," he reassured her. "I just got a sad part, that's all."

And sad it was. Terence, the main character Nora's lover, was on his deathbed. The young couple had been so in love, so happy, in the beginning. To have their relationship cut short on such awful terms was certainly tragic.

Winky eyed the tome in his hands warily. "Is Master Harry sure he wants to read a book that is making him cry?" she asked, as if afraid to upset him.

The teen sighed. The house-elf had a point, really. Somewhere along the line he'd become addicted to these ten-cent stories. It'd started as a way to stave off boredom while locked in his small room at Privet Drive. He'd nicked one of his Aunt Petunia's books, only to find out later that it was a romance novel-and a rather raunchy one, at that.

He'd had every intention of burning the book, but somehow, some way, he'd been sucked into the story. The plot sucked, the characters were shallow, and the author had obviously never put a ruler up against anyone's assets, but he couldn't find the will to put it down.

Harry had gone back for another one, and then another. He'd systematically devoured Petunia's entire collection of trashy books within a single summer, and found himself hungering for more.

He ran a hand down his face in aggravation. Even now he was sneaking out of the dorms on sleepless nights to enjoy the quiet bustle of the kitchens, soak in the warmth of the stoves, and curl up with his cheap romances. These moments of silence had become his refuge, a way to cleanse himself from the stresses of each day.

The house-elves were excitable creatures and they weren't all that bright, but they were powerful and had such a capacity for loyalty and compassion that Harry was often left stunned by their caring gestures. They allowed him free access to the kitchen equipment and plied him with as many treats as he could possibly consume.

"It's fine, Winky. You're supposed to cry at this point. It's not a bad cry though; I'm enjoying the story. I promise."

After studying him for a moment longer, Winky's head bobbed in acceptance. "Master Harry is knowing best. If Master Harry is enjoying tacky romance novel, then Winky is not protesting." With that, she turned and wandered deeper into the kitchens to continue her duties.

Harry gaped after her.

---------------------

Somehow, word had circulated among the house-elves that Harry enjoyed romance novels. Come morning, he found himself buried under a pile of books. Some were dusty and worn, with bent pages and cracked spines-obvious signs of being old and well-read-while others looked relatively new. Thankfully, none had questionable substances gluing the pages together.