Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

Chapter One

"I can help you there," said the boy with the strikingly white blond hair, extending his hand.

Harry looked into the eyes of Draco Malfoy. He had never been looked at like that before. His whole life he had been looked at like he was nothing. Like he was the dirt staining Aunt Petunia's rug, or the toy too annoying for Dudley to play with, or the son not good enough for Vernon, not even a son, not even a nephew, just an unpleasant smelling item of furniture stored under the stairs. Or at school, where he was the ugly boy with glasses. He hated going there, he had always been so afraid of going there, and sometimes wished he could just curl up in his cupboard and sleep there and never leave. There, at least his dreams would take him to a more pleasant place.

Draco Malfoy looked at him with this smile, as if Harry was the shiniest trophy he had ever seen. As if he was important.

Harry's serious face broke out into a smile. "I could use all the help I can get," Harry said, taking Draco's hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the red head, Ron, make a face, as a few other watching students gasped at Harry's acceptance. Harry felt a stab of guilt, but he had to push it down. He couldn't be at the bottom of the social latter again. Especially not at this school, a school for magic. It would be much more dangerous here. And he had barely escaped his bullies at his old school, it had been magic really, that had allowed him to escape, but now at a school where everyone had it, he would have no advantage.

As Harry walked through the great hall, with Malfoy at his side, he began to feel less nervous. Malfoy had all this confident energy, as he strutted forward happily, gazing at the candlelight ceiling and telling Harry a story about his father. Harry wasn't really listening though, he was just grinning, too focused on the feeling of safety having Malfoy at his side gave him.

When it was time for them to be sorted, Harry really started feeling nervous again. But not just regular nerves, dread. Dread to the point where it almost became uncontrollable. Draco left his side and got sorted into a house called Slytherin. Harry vaguely remembered what Slytherin was. What if he wasn't good enough to go there too? Harry thought, beginning to panic. Then he would be stuck in Gryffindor or something, like Ron had just been sorted into, and if he was sorted into Gryffindor with Ron, it would be awful, Ron must really hate him by now, and he probably couldn't make it right. He would be stuck in a house with someone who hated him.

As Harry walked toward the sorting hat, he caught the two black eyes of a professor with long black hair who was sitting in the staff table. Harry felt the eyes bore into him, like two sharp daggers. His scar stung like someone had shot a needle through it, and he gasped and raised a hand to his forehead.

A few students from the crowd of first years laughed.

Harry must have looked ridiculous, just standing there with his hand clamped to his forehead. The professor gave him a slight nod, and the spell was broken, Harry was able to look away and continue his longer than planned walk to the sorting hat.

"A little nervous eh?" The sorting hat said when it was placed on his head.

"Yeah," Harry thought, barely thinking this was weird after what he had experienced with the professor. He closed his eyes like he had seen the other students do, so he could focus solely on the conversation with the hat, and to make him feel less nervous, by shutting out the huge crowd of people watching him. He could still feel their eyes though, as if they were all touching his skin, even with his own eyes closed. He wondered what kind of expressions Draco would be making, or that professor...

"A lot on your mind I see," The sorting hat thought.

"No," Harry squeak-thought, "I mean, yeah, I guess." He needed to focus.

"Well," The sorting hat chuckled. "I can see you have quite a brilliant mind. If not a bit damaged, or traumatized, I should say, by abuse, but most of all, neglect, lack of love, although I can see here that you were loved quite a lot once, if only when a baby..."

Harry suddenly remembered something. Something Draco had said when he had first met him. Now he held onto it like a life line, or a broomstick perhaps. "Not Hufflepuff, not Hufflepuff," Harry chanted firmly.

"Not Hufflepuff?" The sorting hat thought. "But Hufflepuff has some of the most welcoming students, the most kind, accepting and loyal. Hufflepuff could help you on the way to recovery, no doubt about that..."

"Not Hufflepuff, not Hufflepuff," Harry continued to think.

"Well, if you're sure, better be SLYTHERIN!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Harry opened his eyes, smiling in relief. He barely noticed that the Gryffindors were barely even clapping, instead, his eyes searched the Slytherin tables until he found Malfoy, who was beaming at him and clapping. When Harry met his eyes, he winked and scooted over to make space for him on the Slytherin bench.

Malfoy patted Harry on the back as he sat down. "Harry I want you to meet my friends, Dean and Seamus."

"Hi," Harry said confidently, to caught up in the excitement and energy of the room to feel nervous meeting new people.

Dean offered a small smile, and a wave, but Seamus just stared back and said "Hi." Seamus had a very serious expression on his face, and Harry noticed a cut above his left eye, just above his eyebrow.

Seamus seemed to notice Harry staring at it, because he said, "It's just a cat scratch."

"Yes," Malfoy said with his broad grin, "Seamus likes to be very close with his cats."

Seamus's eyes narrowed, his lips curling up in a slight grimace.

Malfoy patted him on the back, trying to lighten him up, let him know he was only joking in a brotherly way.

Seamus's grimace turned into a small smile.

The food was glorious, and although Harry became very caught up in eating it, because of the way it tasted better than anything he had ever eaten, and comforted him more than anything he had ever eaten, Harry still couldn't get this question that he had been meaning to ask Malfoy out of his mind.

"Hey Malfoy," Harry said, nudging the blond, "who's that professor over there." Harry pointed at the professor with his knife very hesitantly, afraid that the man with black eyes and black hair would notice and make eye contact again.

"That's professor Snape," Malfoy said, face lighting up when he saw who Harry was pointing at. "He's a great teacher, my father loves him. He teaches potions."

"Is he...?" Harry trailed off, not sure how to say it.

"Is he what?" Malfoy said, eyes narrowing.

"Is he hard to get to like you?" Harry said.

"You're worried he won't like you?" Malfoy said, relaxing back into his smile. Malfoy nudged his elbow, "well of course he'll like you, you're a hero for god's sake."

Harry managed to smile back, and forget his worries long enough to enjoy the rest of the conversations, and joking around with Malfoy and the boys. But as Harry headed up to bed, stomach warm with food, and head dizzy with over eating, Harry felt a pang of worry deep in his gut for the days to come, and especially, potions class. Harry didn't know why exactly, but he really wanted professor Snape to like him. Though he had a bad feeling, that like everyone else in his life that he had wanted to like him (besides Malfoy and the boys of course) something would go terribly wrong, and they would end up despising him.