Harry Potter Preferences

Preference #1: First time you meet

Harry: You got to Kings Cross railway far behind schedule. It was your first year and your parents dropped you off without telling you much of anything. They of course helped you with school supplies and getting ready, but being absentminded, forgot to prepare with how exactly to make the Hogwarts Express. As you looked desperately for Platform 9 and 3/4, you noticed a boy with dark brown hair and wire rimmed glasses. He came over to you with a reassuring smile on his face.

"Are you a first year," he asked.

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "I have no idea where to go."

"Come on," he urged, grabbing your hand and leading you through the magic wall.

"Wow," you gasped in surprise. "That was...amazing."

"It's pretty startling, I bet," he replied. "Are you a Muggleborn?"

You nodded sheepishly. "Alright. I'm a halfblood, too," he replied. "My name's Harry. Harry Potter. I'm a third year."

"I'm (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N)."

The Boy Who Lived was another thing your parents hadn't prepared you for, so as far as you knew, Harry was just like any other wizard boy. But even without knowing his entire year, you felt yourself developing quite the crush on him.

Ron: When you were four, your parents had a great birthday party for you, and invited the Weasleys, who had the largest brood of kids they knew. Most of them were older than you, except for Ron, who was only two months younger, and Ginny, whom you had a full year on. Despite your minor age difference, you bonded with Ginny much more quickly than with Ron. After all, she was the only other little girl you'd ever met, and Ron wasn't exactly up for a few rounds of tea party. At least, not until you decided that the party needed a third guest. You enlisted Ginny to help you hold him down while you took off his clothes and changed him into one of your play dresses, complete with a floral bonnet. "More tea, Veronica," you asked teasingly once the two of you had finished with him and gotten him to sit in one of the chairs.

He glowered, and answered, "No thank you. Game over. Give me my pants back."

Much to his four-year-old humiliation, his mother and yours took that moment to come into the room and take a few pictures. "Stop," he whined as his older brothers giggled off to the side. After that encounter, to say Ron wasn't particularly fond of you would have been an understatement.

Fred: You transferred to Hogwarts your fourth year, after you had attended wizarding school in America for the past three. You had trouble fitting in, seeing as you were a bit behind in some areas. Besides that, the American school you'd attended had been more in touch with Muggle culture, and your references to Beverly Hills 90210 and Christian Slater flew over your classmates' heads like broomsticks. Even though you were a pureblood, the Muggleborns seemed to understand you best, and even they had become withdrawn into the wizarding world. One day, you had Potions with the second years, much to your embarrassment. After a few minutes in class, you felt a wave of sickness wash over you. Great, on top of everything else, you were falling ill. You knew there was something wrong with this disgusting Brit food. You raised your hand.

"Yes, Miss (Y/L/N)," Snape asked disinterestedly. "What is the purpose of your interruption?"

"I need to go to the hospital wing, stat," you moaned.

"You are dismissed," Snape scoffed, waving you out.

You rushed down the hall, in search of the healing room. You were having trouble remembering where you were going when you bumped into a boy. You managed to notice a flash of red hair before you released the loudest belch you'd ever produced and then promptly vomited all over his slacks and shoes. You groaned, both from pain and embarrassment. "I need the hospital wing," you muttered.

"I can see that," the boy said, wrinkling his nose at the smell. "Let me take you."

"I'm (Y/N)," you blurted, staring into his eyes. "I'm in Hufflepuff."

"Fred," he replied. "Gryffindor. Now let's get moving, eh?"

You nodded in agreement and let him lead the way. You were so embarrassed you could hardly stand it, especially when you found out you were in the same year. After all, puking on a cute boy your own age was one of the worst things you could imagine. Fortunately, Fred was curious about you then disgusted.

George: In the Great Hall, you were nervously awaiting your turn with the Sorting Hat. You and (Y/B/F/N) weren't sure which house you wanted to be. All both of you knew is that neither of you wanted Slytherin. Unfortunately, Slytherin was the house (Y/B/F/N) was sorted into. That made you even more nervous. "Hey," someone whispered into your ear. "No matter where you end up, you'll be fine. Don't worry."

You looked up and saw an older redheaded boy smiling at you. "I'm George. You're in my brother's class. Me and my twin Fred might rag on him a lot, but we're looking out for him. By extent, we'll look out for the rest of you, no matter what house you get."

You smiled, relaxing as George patted your shoulder and you were called forward. You sat there with nervous anticipation as the hat ruminated over where to put you, until it finally yelled, "Gryffindor!" You went over to your new housemates and smiled when you saw George wave at you. You were going to have a good time at Hogwarts, now that you had George looking out for you.

Neville: On your train ride to Hogwarts first year, you felt so alone. You didn't have anyone to sit with, and you were tired and hungry. You'd stayed up late with nerves the night before, and you barely ate breakfast. You were cramped into a seat next to an awkward chubby-looking boy who wasn't saying much of anything either. You decided to break the ice. "Hi," you said. "Do you have any snacks? I'm really hungry."

"I've got some chocolate frogs on me," he said. "You want any?"

"Heck yeah," you said, taking one from him. "I'm (Y/N), by the way," you added.

"Neville."

You guys kept talking and found out both of you had lost parents, but while you still had your dad, all Neville had was his grandmother. Despite his tragic background, Neville was a nice boy and you hoped you could be friends.

Draco: You and Draco had been friends since you were small children. Your earliest memory, though, was when you were both five years old. He demanded that you two play doctor and you foolishly complied. While you hadn't been caught at the time, Draco spent your first three years at Hogwarts holding this over your head. Even worse, you were both sorted into Slytherin, where you could barely escape his constant teasing. You finally stopped him in fourth year by coincidence: you caught Draco in the nude, with a full nine years behind him. Any mention of his cute little butt cheeks or 'Malfoy Jr.' caused him to turn red, and he stopped mentioning the little game you'd played years ago.