Winging It (Interactive Love Story)

Prologue

January 28th, 1996

After what felt like a thousand years, the weekend had finally arrived. And what better way to spend it than doing absolutely nothing.

End of January or perhaps even early February, it was a picture perfect Sunday afternoon. Outside, small snowflakes made their way down from the sky to the ground, disappearing in the snow that hid the green grass beneath it. You find yourself smiling wistfully at the flakes as they delicately drift down from the clouds, when your eyes venture downward at the book you'd been reading in your spare time. Normally you would've been done with it by now, but lately the company of your roommates was much more delightful than your love for reading had been.

Too bad such a tranquil Saturday afternoon had to be ruined by someone pounding loudly on the door of your dormitory. Surprised by this sudden disturbance, you stand up and make your way over to the door. Once you open it, you look up at your visitor, who is just a bit taller than you. He has a small oval face with a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, with messy dark hair and emerald-coloured eyes that stared curiously. On his nose was a pair of black, round glasses, and under it a set of bright pink lips. His body was clad in a Gryffindor's uniform of red and yellow, and his hands were tucked deeply into the pockets of his trousers.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry Potter was a name everyone at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry knew, let alone the entire Wizarding World. He was the one who survived The Dark Lord's killing curse; he was The Boy Who Lived. Naturally, he had gained many fans, including some who took their appreciation to the depths of obsession, and others who felt fiery antagonism. It couldn't have been easy for him.

Harry was a good friend of yours, and despite having known him for many years, you can't help but admire his being each and every time.

"Hey (y/n). I wanted to speak with you for a bit, would that be alright?"

"Oh, sure. Shall we head to the common room, then?"

"Actually, I was hoping to talk in your room," Harry answers almost automatically, then hastily adds, "because we wouldn't want anyone overhearing our conversation."

You scratch the back of your head uncomfortably but finally mutter, "Alright then," and open the door wide to let him in. "But this better be important. I'm not looking forward to wasting a perfectly good Saturday on one of your crazy shenanigans. Again."

Harry sits down on your bed, his arms wrapped around his body. If you didn't know any better, you'd think something was bothering him. Intrigued by this assumption, you seat yourself in the chair at your desk and ask him, "So, what did you want to talk about?"

The Golden Boy looks away sheepishly, as if being embarrassed by the question. This was unusual behavior for him, especially considering he'd been acting so cheerful lately. "Well, there's someone—I mean something, I've been meaning to tell you."

"Oh?" You drag the chair several clattering steps closer to Harry. "And what might that be?"

After a moment of silence, Harry bluntly comes forth with what's been on his mind the entire time. "I think that I might... be bisexual."

Shocked, your mouth falls open. This was not at all how you expected this conversation to go. It was hard to find the right words to express yourself. "I... How? When?"

"I've been questioning it for a while, but I truly realized it somewhere in the middle of Christmas break," Harry answered, finally looking up at you. You fold your arms and nod, wondering why he was telling you this. But more importantly, the fact that he'd considered you worthy of keeping such a secret filled you with delight.