𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬- 𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Harry- 10. Say That Again

Warnings: none

Harry x Slytherin!reader

_

"Y/n and I had a bet," Harry turned his heels towards the courtyard as he heard Malfoy's mocking voice. "She said Potter might well last for half an hour. But I think he won't even last for ten minutes."

He resisted his urge to tumble Malfoy down the Black Lake as the Slytherin seeker scoffed at her friend's direction.

"What say, Potter?" Y/n stepped towards him in calculated steps, her disarming smile never faltering as she stood in front of him. "Make me win."

He never understood what was that thing about her that made his heart skip a beat every time he had to compete with this particular girl during Quidditch matches (he didn't like catching the snitch before her, though she had succeeded in capturing the restless orb many times). Nor could he comprehend why the Potions class ended in a wink when he was partnered with her.

Was he falling for a Slytherin? Heck no- he already did.

"Y/n! Transfiguration this time," Pansy pulled her friend before Harry could reply, sending a knowing glance at her as she whispered, "Flirt with Saint Potter later."

Getting killed by a dragon or forgetting about Y/n?

He's getting killed this time.

"How am I supposed to battle a dragon?"

"Bloody hell, mate!" The red-haired Weasley sighed as he dramatically threw all the bundles of papers that Hermione had made him skim. "Ask Y/n if you only want to last for more than half an hour for her. I'm going to 'ed."

Harry jutted his chin on the fragile book that lay uninterested on the table.

"Hermione?"

Instead of words, he met with a 'tut' from her direction as her bushy hair grew bushier, if possible, as she sat with a castle of library books plunked around her.

This was turning insane.

"Honestly," She scrunched her nose up in the air, "whatever you are planning is ridiculous."

"No, it's Y/n," he replied dreamily after which he met with a thick spined book on his head.

Hermione was scary but the dragon was scarier.

🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄

Double Potions? Nah, a total hell.

"Like them, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes for the millionth time that day as the familiar white-blond hair zoomed into his sight while he tried to enter the dungeons.

Blaise, the ordinary scowl stuck under his slitted eyes, blocked the door further, his chest purposefully thrust forward like Malfoy.

And Harry could not find even one sensible reason for Y/n befriending them.

"Made them myself. And this isn't the only thing it does," Malfoy pointed as the badge turned an ugly green, reading Potter stinks.

"Brilliant," the raven-haired boy hoisted the bag on his shoulder. "Now move."

And that's where their illogical rivalry lightened.

Harry definitely didn't understand how he stepped into this situation where both of them were standing inches from each other, their wands ready to at least sabotage this Potions class.