Better Be Slytherin!

odd angles, almost like his own. But Harry was too frightened to do more than shake his head. As if he didn't notice, Professor Snape went on, 'Could it be that your tiny brain was insufficient to the task of following the simplest of instructions?'

'N-no, sir,' Harry said. Then he swallowed his fear and put his chin up just a bit. If he got hit, he got hit. He could deal with that. Didn't Dudley and his gang pummel him practically every day? But he wasn't going to cower for anyone. 'No, sir,' he said again. 'I'm not deficient.'

'Really?' the professor drawled, still holding his arm in a pincer like grip. Damn; it was going to leave another bruise. 'Then how is it you are in here, when you should still be abed?'

What could he say? Not the truth, certainly. That only led to more questions and angry Dursleys and probably expulsion from school. He knew how this went. There'd been a nurse once, in primary, who'd asked loads of questions, and he'd even answered truthfully, about how much he ate, and when, and how often he'd been to see the doctor, and then someone from Child Welfare visited the Dursley's home and asked -- in front of them -- many of the same questions. Well, what was he going to say? He'd lied, of course, and smiled and said all was grand, and the nurse had treated him like an attention seeking freak after that. He didn't like to recall what Uncle's reaction had been.

Snape shook him by the arm and snarled, 'I asked you a question, boy!'

Despite his resolve not to cower, he couldn't help but flinch a little. 'I'm sorry, sir.'

'You certainly will be! I suppose you feel you don't need to answer a proper question, is that it? And that rules are for everyone else, but not for Potters? Well let me tell you something, you insufferable brat, you will learn very quickly that when I give orders, they are meant to be followed. And when I deem something forbidden, you are meant not to do it!' By the end of his tirade, he had pulled Harry very close and specks of spittle hit Harry's face and bare chest. Even without glasses, Harry could see the disgust and rage clearly in the man's eyes.

'Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I'll obey the schedule.'

'Indeed you will. And you'll have detention tonight at 7. Do. Not. Be. Late.' Giving Harry one last shake by the arm, the professor flung Harry away from him and stalked out of the bathroom in a ripple of black cloth and menace.

Harry grabbed up his towel and scruffed it over himself, then got dressed, lickety split, shrugging the encounter from his mind. The words the professor had shouted were no worse than what he'd heard from the Dursleys, after all, and he certainly deserved them. He was just glad Snape hadn't asked more questions he couldn't answer.

Once he was dressed, he crept out of the Slytherin common room and made a quick -- or as quick as he could make it -- trip to see Hedwig and give her an order to take to Gladrags, down in Hogsmeade. He was glad directions to the owlry had been part of the information handed to him by his Prefect, as well as a list of clothiers who serviced the school.

By the time he returned, the other students were just starting to stir, making their slow way into the showers, or the common room, and Harry busied himself with reading a chapter from his Potions textbook, wanting to be as prepared as he could be when he met Snape in class. He took out some parchment, too, and practiced taking notes with the quill and ink. It was much sloppier than with a ball point, and after he splotched up on roll so bad he could barely read anything, he would have traded a hundred chocolate frogs for one pencil.

While he was trying to scrape away some excess ink, he saw Malfoy come down into the common room, flanked by the two large boys who seemed to follow him everywhere. Goyle and Crumm . . . no, Crabbe. He wasn't sure he knew which of them was which, though. Malfoy, on the other hand. It wasn't hard to make him out from the crowd, with his white blond hair and permanent half-smile, as if he knew a prank was about to be played on you, and for a price, he'd tell you what it was.

Harry glanced at them as Malfoy sauntered and the other two lumbered over to the couches and slumped into them, but he kept at his work. Malfoy hadn't said anything to him at dinner, but he'd been one of the ones who stared.

'It's ridiculous, isn't it?' the blond said, and covered a small yawn with a hand. 'That we have to be up so early every day. I mean, I could understand the first day, with schedules to be handed out and all. But weekends?'

Harry, not sure if Malfoy was speaking to one of his goons, didn't say anything, though he privately agreed.

'Are you deaf, Potter?'

Making sure to put hold his quill away from his parchment, he looked up to see Malfoy smirking at him. 'No. I didn't know who you were talking to.'

Malfoy rolled his eyes. 'Like I make conversation with these two, honestly.'

Harry gave a half smile. Dudley was just about as dismissive of his goons, too. Didn't stop them from having wicked fists on his command, though. And Harry was awfully tired of being beaten up at school. So he shrugged. 'I'd rather we were allowed to lie in on weekends. Doesn't make much sense to get us up so early. I though breakfast didn't even start till 8 then.'

'Exactly.' Malfoy leaned forward a little and held out his hand. 'I don't think we've had a proper introduction. I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.'

'Harry Potter,' Harry said and shook the boy's hand.

'I tried to find you on the train--'

'You did?' Harry asked. He'd thought he'd caught a glimpse of the white blond hair at the end of the car, when he was coming out of the loo one time, but Ron hadn't said anything about it when he got back to their compartment.

Malfoy gave him a long look. 'Of course. You're rather famous in some circles.' He smiled, with only a trace of haughtiness. 'I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.'

Harry laughed. 'There's no fuss. Really. I didn't even know I was a wizard till a month ago.'

Something in Malfoy's face tightened. 'But your parents weren't Muggles.'