Better Be Slytherin!

other clothes.

'Awww, is the little half-blood shy?' came a voice from the room. Harry recognized it, though the boy had never spoken to him. 'Hiding away behind his curtains so no one can see his nasty little half-blood body?'

'Shut it, Zabini,' said another, cooler voice.

'He your boyfriend, Teddy?' Zabini teased.

'I said shut it. And I mean it,' Teddy growled. 'You don't know what you're messing with.'

With that, Zabini left him alone, but Harry's whole face was burning, as he crept out from his drapes and made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and use the loo.

He would have to face them sooner or later . . . sooner, he realized, as he had to shower with them in the morning. He couldn't cross Snape again, that was for certain. That night, for the first time in a long time, he dreamed of the snake-like man who laughed in the midst of a flash of green light, and his scar hurt something fierce when he woke in the morning.

TBC . . .

*Chapter 4*: Chapter 4

Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 4

By jharad17

Disclaimer: Not mine. Alas.

Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.

A/N: I'm going to try and alternate chapters between Harry's p.o.v. and Snape's, showing how each of them treats the same series of events. But am not sure if I'll be able to keep that up, with longer chapters, especially. Thus, sometimes, I might do a quick one-two post of a couple shorter chapters, so the same smaller period of time is covered. This one will be Snape, though, and covers the first day of classes, again. I imagine it'll be a few days before I can get the next chapter out.

Previously:

The only question, every year, was who was fool enough to face his wrath.

As Severus collapsed back in bed, he decided that the least surprising thing about the encounter in the bathroom was that the Potter Brat was the one who'd decided to break the rules. Before he could consider any more of it, he had passed out again. He was getting to old for this.

In the true morning -- the Brat had forced him up at 4am. Four! He'd never had such an idiot in his House before -- he spent an inordinate amount of time under hot water in his shower, wondering, not for the first time, how he had ever got along without such things. As a child in Spinner's End, there had been few luxuries, and hot water that lasted for an entire shower was not one of them.

He scrubbed at his hair, despairing of it ever being free of the residue of potion fumes. For a brief month at summer, when he was not hunched over a steaming cauldron for fifteen hours a day, it hung far less limply. He wondered which student this year would be the first to work up the gall to call him 'Greasy Git.' Some years, he looked forward to the subsequent detentions he was able to give out as a result. Some years, like this one, since he was assuming it would be the Brat Who Lived who was arrogant to hold that dubious honor, he was positively aquiver with anticipation.

With a last rinse, he savored the memory of the few minutes when he had James' son quivering in fear in front of him. His own eyes had been gummy, and he was only half awake, but he was sure the boy was afraid; why else could he not answer a simple question? He was already planning his detention for the Brat Whose Arrogance Knew No Bounds. It would be sure to take him down a peg or three.

After another ten minutes of water hitting his face, he was awake enough to face his peers . . . Oh, god . . . and the students.

He detested the first day of class.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, at least for Severus. The Gryffindor table was, of course, loud and obnoxious, but his Slytherins behaved as well as could be expected on their first full day, especially considering how likely it was that they'd become used to slothful lazing around on their holidays and were, for the first time in months, up at a reasonable hour. He watched as Flint and Torrence kept an eye peeled for any transgressions, and the little rapturous upturned faces of the Firsties as they took in every word from their betters was beautiful to see. Although . . . Severus scowled to see Potter hunched over a piece of toast and nibbling on it.

Fortunately, Malfoy noted it, too, and gave Potter such a look of disgust it was all Severus could do not to award points then and there. Instead, he finished off the last of his coffee, gathered up the children's schedules, and left the high table. His robes flapped dangerously as he approached his Snakes, and he was the recipient of more than one appreciative look, especially from some of the tender-hearted Hufflepuffs nearby.

Along the way, he picked out various conversations from the rest of the students -- who had little to say of import at the best of times! -- and heard their exclamations over Potter, of all people. 'Do you see that by, the one with the messy hair?' and 'Have you seen it? The scar?' and 'Do you really think he, you know, did that to You Know Who?' and 'I can't believe he's a Slytherin.'

Yes, well, neither could Severus.

By the time he reached his seventh years, he was furious, though carefully hiding his emotions behind a well- constructed mask. The Brat had been here no more than twelve hours, had broken rules already and still, he was a hero. It was obscene. Severus passed out schedules left and right, starting with the NEWT students, to give them more time to gather the appropriate books and equipment, and went on down to the first years. He saved Potter for last. Thrusting a schedule at the Brat Who Had To Be A Bloody Hero, he said nothing, not trusting himself to speak.

And Potter didn't even deign to look at him. The cheek!

He would have deducted points right there, if not for the fact it would have come from his own House, thus