Harry James potter smuts

Housekeeping

"There you go, Harry. Don't worry about the downstairs, today. Just some light dusting upstairs and wiping the windows."

Harry nodded, smiling down at the many shiny coins that lay in his hand.

He got to work, somewhat disappointed that there wasn't much to do today. He wondered if there really was more, but the L/Ns were too nice to ask. Dusting along several shelves that lined the wall of the upstairs hallway, he made his way to the first room.

It'd been his first time in this one. The door, for the first time ever, was slightly ajar, a stark difference from its usual shut position. It wasn't too clean, the trunk open and closet half empty, not yet finished with unpacking for the summer holiday. Books and trinkets were scattered about the table, bed haphazardly made. The walls were painted a pretty shade of cream, almost completely covered with posters of musicians such as Celestina Warbeck and Lorcan d'Eath, he was surprised to see them accompanied by several Ravenclaw banners and a blue and bronze tie hanging from the bedpost.

He had an inkling that the L/N family knew of magic and wizards, but for their child to attend Hogwarts? Harry did as he was paid to do, wiping the windows. Dusting the shelves, he was oddly determined to find out who lived in this bedroom.

A Ravenclaw.

Judging by the clothing style and size, which he knew very little about, she couldn't be much younger than him.

The boy refused to snoop through the stack of letters on her bedside table, only one name catching his eye. Dean Thomas.

Were they friends? He hadn't noticed Dean with a girl, but lately, he hadn't noticed much at all. Were they dating? "Who are you?" Harry murmured, sighing as he went to look at the framed moving photographs.

With narrowed eyes, the name he'd been searching for had uncovered itself in his brain. "Y/N L/N."

△⃒⃘
It was warmer than it was a few days ago when he was wiping windows and dusting shelves, Harry walked down the street, knocking on the door of number 8 Privet Drive.

Would she be home?

The door swung open several minutes later, but it wasn't to address him. Perhaps his knock was too quiet, too nervous, to be heard. "I'll be back late, tonight!"

"No, Y/N! Not a single minute after twelve!"

"Let's make it twelve-thirty!" She shut the door before her parents could retaliate, eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. "Oh, I think you're cleaning the kitchen today." Y/N told him before scurrying off, readjusting the purse strap on her shoulder.

His eyes trailed after her as she walked away. Summer was most definitely here, one could tell from her skirt and vest, along with the sunglasses that covered what he remembered to be very pretty eyes.

Shaking his head, Harry scolded himself for looking too long, getting one last glimpse of her wonderfully styled hair before entering the house.

He'd seen her, she'd spoken a total of eight words to him.

△⃒⃘
Thursday came, the second and last day of the week he had to clean, Harry would have to wait four more days to return on Monday to find any sort of reprieve from the Dursleys.

He insisted on wiping the countertops slower, ensuring maximum shine, scrubbing with utmost precision while Mr. L/N sipped on tea in the living room and Mrs. L/N judged the flower arrangement on the dining table.

The front door shut, and no one flinched. "I'm home!"

She placed her bag onto the table her mother was sitting at. "Hair up please, darling, Harry's just cleaned the floor."