Your shorts are short and I like it

1: Introduction

Dans pov

I never thought I would end up falling in love with the short tempered punk of the school. The aforementioned school being Hogwarts and the boy being Phil Lester.

Wait. Let me start from the beginning. I'm a sixth year Hufflepuff at Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry. Everyone thinks I'm a first year as I'm very small in height and have an innocent aura around me. I'm a very shy person, but once you get to know me, you'll soon learn that I'm a witty and compassionate person.

People in the muggle world (and sometimes wizarding too) make fun of me because I like to wear cute dresses and short shorts.

I had explained to Professor Dumbledore at the beginning of my first year here that I didn't want to wear the school uniform of grey short socks and trousers.
I wanted to wear white thigh highs and a grey skirt.
He allowed me, but with the exception that I must help out Professors if they ask of it.
So far, my favourite professor to help is drawn between Hagrid, the gatekeeper who also does Care For Magical creatures (he lets me pet the hippogriffs!) and Professor Trelawney, the astronomy teacher. She's really fun to be around and she lets me drink tea and eat biscuits while I help and she reads my tea leaves for me!

Professor Sprout told me that there had been a mix up with the dorms this year, and that I would have to share my room with another boy. (Everyone thought it would be best if I had a room to myself).

I was worried about having to share my most vulnerable form to him. When I was asleep, nothing could wake me up. I was also worried about what he would expect out of me.

Would he expect me to be a macho manly man?

Would he want me to not make any contact with him throughout the year?

Would he-

I was brought back to the real world when I smacked painfully hard into a wall, too deep in my thoughts to notice said wall. After making sure I didn't have a concussion, I gathered my bearings and realised I was close to our room for the year.

I heard loud bass music booming from behind the mahogany door. It's now or never. My hand found it's way to the door handle, pushing down.

I tried to push the door open gently.

Nothing.

I tried again, applying a little more force.

Still, nada.

I took a step back, making sure my carry on backpack was securely on before charging at the door.

It opened before I even had a chance to brush the door with my fingers, causing my momentum to push me forward, trip over my own two feet and land on my bubble butt on the floor.

Ouch.

The horrible music I had heard turned off at some point during this.

I heard a deep chuckle ricochet off the walls, finding entertainment in my pain.

I screwed my eyes closed, trying to not blush (failed already) and not to burst out crying like a baby.

Before I know what my body is doing, I feel a warm trickle go down both sides of my face as I sniffle.

Immediately, the laughing stops.

The deep, husky voice came out of nowhere. "Are you okay?" It asked, a hand brushing my shoulder, causing me to flinch away from the physical contact that I had been deprived of for so many years.

I covered my toffee coloured eyes with my pale, soft fingers, only replying to the question with a simple head shake.

"Come on, princess. You wanna tell me what's wrong?" It questioned.

I squeaked out in my small, silvery voice, "My bum really hurts and I'm really embarrassed I just did that."

The disembodied voice spoke again. "Can I take a look at your "bum" to see if it's okay?" It asked.

My face turned redder, if that was even possible at this point. I nodded my head slightly, showing it was okay. I stood up on shaky legs, my hands out in front of me to help keep my balance.

I felt a pair of eyes trail over my body, checking me out as well as seeing if I was okay.

I breathed calmly through my button nose and turned around. Then I cracked open my eyes.

I gasped.