Random Smuts

Harry Potter

As Harry made his way to Charms class, he found himself joined by his loyal friends Hermione and Ron. They were caught up in their own conversations, but Harry's attention was suddenly caught by a rumor circulating about a new student who had recently joined Hogwarts. Although he couldn't explain why, this news sparked a curiosity within him. He decided it wouldn't hurt to try and get to know this mysterious newcomer, especially since he often felt invisible despite being known as "The chosen one." Lost in his thoughts, Harry absentmindedly adjusted his glasses, which were slipping down his nose. He trailed behind his friends, his gaze fixed on the ground, almost as if he was lost in his own world. However, Hermione's urgent voice snapped him back to reality, reminding him to hurry up or risk being late for class. With a renewed sense of purpose, Harry quickened his pace and finally entered the Charms classroom.

Placing a piece of parchment paper on his desk, he settled into his seat in the middle of the room. With an ink pen, he carefully wrote his name and the date. As he waited for the professor to enter, he absentmindedly tapped his wand against the desk. To his surprise, the professor walked in alongside a unfamiliar new student. Was this the new student at Hogwarts? The student had introduced themselves to the class, but Harry's mind was preoccupied with the overwhelming feeling of his body freezing. It felt as if he had experienced love at first sight.

He tried to shake off the sensation, being keenly aware of the fact that this student was the subject of gossip among the student body. He forced himself to listen intently to the instructions given by the Charms professor. But still, Harry couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to the new student every now and then. He tried to concentrate on class, but the more he looked, the more his heart thudded in his chest, and his skin seemed to tingle, cursed as he was to likely crave the touch or presence of this individual.

At the end of the lesson, he gathered up his supplies and stood, his hands trembling slightly as he slipped his wand back into his robes. Before he could leave, however, Hermione nudged him and reminded him of the upcoming Quidditch practice. Harry nodded absently, grateful for the distraction the game undoubtedly provided, even if he had little talent for it.

As they left the classroom the new student from earlier passed by him brushing against his arm, leaving a gentle warmth behind. His breathing hitched, and his cheeks flushed hot enough to rival the enchanted fire in the Great Hall. The sudden intimacy left him weak, unable to move, let alone speak or utter a single word. He snapped out of it, seemingly having been frozen in time under a bewitching spell. Once the student had moved on, he took a deep breath, hoping to steady himself, but he felt lightheaded, and a dull ache formed beneath his breastbone.

Practice went as usual, with Ron and Hermione teasing him, though he barely heard them. His thoughts turned to the enigmatic stranger with dark hair and striking features. In his head, he replayed the fleeting contact, torturing himself with memories of their arms touching. His arousal began to grow, a silent witness to his burgeoning obsession. Would he be brave enough to approach this mystery woman and learn her name?

*After Quidditch, he lingered around the Great Hall, a familiar part of his routine, but tonight, he couldn't help feeling restless. He wanted to learn more about the new student, see her again, taste the heady mix of fear and exhilaration that seemed to seep into his veins whenever she was near

Obsessed, he found himself seeking her out, making his way towards a familiar corner of the Great Hall where a couple of students were gathered in quiet conversation. It was her. He hesitated for a moment but finally bit the bullet, walking purposefully towards her table and clearing his throat to announce his presence.

Harry introduced himself, insecure despite his fame, glancing nervously from side to side as he waited for her response. His mind raced, wondering if she'd catch on to his hidden feelings or if she'd just be another stranger at Hogwarts. "Hi," he said, trying to sound casual, "I'm Harry Potter. I'm sure you've heard my story, the child that survived Voldemort. I guess you can call me 'the boy who lived.' I hope we get along and that I can show you around Hogwarts. You can call me Harry."