Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

Dream Away the Morning

I couldn't think of a better place to be right now then standing in that small pub in the Leaky Cauldron with Daphne. We had just finished shopping for school supplies with our friends, and Astoria had left only a few seconds ago. Now we were alone.

Daphne had closed the distance between us until there was only a few inches of space separating her from me. Between the relatively short distance that kept us apart and my enhanced sense of smell, the scent of vanilla and honey was almost too much for me to handle. In that moment, all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around her waist, pull her to me and kiss her with the same passion those characters in Lisa's books kissed.

God, help me. I think I'm becoming a pervert.

She had taken my hands in her own. I couldn't help but shiver as a warm jolt of electricity spread from my hands, went up my arms and across my shoulders to travel down the length of my spine. Her hands were so incredibly warm, and soft, and smooth, and maybe my sense of touch was just being hyperactive at the moment, but I couldn't help but think they felt better than even the softest of silk as they gripped my own hands.

"I know you, Harry." As she spoke, I wondered if what I felt was normal. I mean, I was going through puberty true, but I couldn't help but think that what I was going through was a little much for something as simple as puberty. Maybe I was just over thinking things, but I couldn't help but feel that the intense welling of desires I felt were above and beyond more powerful than what most children went through when they started puberty.

This would bear further studying.

My attention returned to Daphne as she continued to speak. "I know you very well, and I know that you understand and embrace the Slytherin way as much as you do for the other four houses. You don't do anything that doesn't benefit you in some way. Even befriending everyone you know was done for a reason."

Did wizards go through a stronger version of puberty? What would that even be called? Magical puberty?

"I don't think that way anymore, you know," I heard myself say, even though I was hardly paying any attention to what I was saying. Most of my attention was on Daphne's beautiful face, her incredible, baby blue eyes, that small slightly upturned nose, her aristocratic cheekbones, and those glorious looking pink lips.

"I know," Daphne smiled. It really was a beautiful smile. "You may try to be cold and ruthless, and you can be on occasion, but I don't really think that's who you are."

"And who am I?"

"Harry Potter, a good person whose had to grow up faster than most people should and my... someone I care about very much."

That was it. I couldn't take it anymore. Listening to Daphne as she spoke so highly of me and watching that beautiful pink blush stain her cheeks was too much for even my impressive self restraint.

Without warning, my hands detached themselves from hers so I could use them. One of my arms slid around her waist, the hand touching the small of her back and pulling her the rest of the way to me. Daphne gasped in surprise, but did not protest my action.

As I pulled the beautiful blond girl against me, the feel of her body conforming to my own was indescribable. I could probably spend hours trying to discover the words necessary to create a proper analogy of how amazing it felt to have this girl's body pressed against me so tightly and still not be able to adequately come up with the appropriate words. I was no poet, and I doubt even they would be able to come up with the proper words to describe how I felt.

My other hand went up to cup her cheek. I allowed my thumb to wander, gently trailing over the soft, silky feeling skin. All the while, my head was leaning down and most of my focus was on her lips.