Ten Questions (Harry Potter x Slytherin reader)

Chapter 9

"You know, it never occurred to me how little we know about each other."

I look up from my notes as I flip to the next piece of parchment. "Well, that's because we didn't meet until a couple weeks ago."

"I know." Potter says, though he sounds like a little child who doesn't. "It's just... I want to know more about you."

"I'm flattered." I say sarcastically as I scribble a couple more notes from my potions textbook.

"No, I'm serious." Potter says. I look up to see he's looking me dead in the eye with a dead serious expression. I sigh and set my quill to the side.

"Fine." I say. "What do you want to know?" Potter grins as he raises his fist victoriously in the air. "Don't make me regret this." I add quickly. "You get ten questions. That's it." Potter shifts in his chair as he thinks for a moment before he finally says, "Favorite color?"

I scoff. "You could ask anything about me, and you want to know what my favorite color is?"

"Answer the question, Pucey."

I laugh. "Fine. My favorite color is (y/f/c."

Potter smirks. "That's fitting."

"I'm assuming yours is red?" Potter shakes his head.

"Blue, actually."

"You're serious?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, surprised. "You're saying that you, Harry Potter, the token Gryffindor, favorite color isn't red?"

Potter grins. "Quite shocking, isn't it?" He leans forward. "Let's not forget I'm the one asking the questions, though, remember?"

"If you could be in any house other than Slytherin, what would it be?"

"(S/f/h/h)." I answer without hesitation.

"Favorite Professor?"

"(Y/f/p)."

"Favorite pet?"

"Hmmm." I sit up and tap my chin thoughtfully. "I had an owl when I was little. His name was Champ."

Potter raises an eyebrow. "You had an owl named Champ?"

"Yes," I say matter of factly, "and he was the best. End of story. Next question."

"Do you like Malfoy?"

I make a gagging noise and pretend to throw up. Potter laughs, knowing this is answer enough.

"Do you think Ron is annoying?"

"Absolutely."

"Favorite spell?"

"Expeliamus, the disarming spell." I say. Potter straightens.

"Oh." He pauses and taps his foot against the ground, as if in deep thought. "That's my favorite spell, too." He says.

I grin. "Great minds think alike, yeah?" Potter smiles and nods in agreement.

"Alright," Potter says, "least favorite house?"

"Gryffindor, obviously." Potter laughs at my answer. "You have one last question," I tell him, wiggling my eyebrows. "Choose wisely."

Potter doesn't hesitate on his next question.

"Favorite Quidditch team?"

"Don't have one. Quidditch is the worst."

At this, Potter's eyes widen. He looks at me as if I had just grown three heads. "What? Why?"