Title: Taming ones inner Slytherin

Author: Simbele

Pairings: Harry/Draco, Severus/Remus, Hermione/Blaise, Seamus/OC

Rating: MA (R) just to be sure. There might be cursing and/or snogging.

A/N: A very spontaneous Plot bunny, but it was so darn persistent. First chapter of (hopefully) many more to come. Not beta'd, since I decided to post this at 11:40 PM without telling Trasdockan. She might get mad.

Not sure about updates, which will probably be sporadic at best – what with school and my other novel-length HP-story. (coming soon!) But drop me a note if you like it and want me to stop messing about, and I'll try to keep up the pace. Cheers!

Spending a month and a half in a barely habitable ditch had taught Harry Potter to value the little things. Roofs, for instance, or temperatures above 10 +C, running water and food that tastes like something other than dirt, or possibly fur. So when he sat down at the Gryffindor table at the opening feast, he treasured it greatly. Especially since this was his last opening feast, his last Sorting ceremony, his last introduction of a new DADA teacher. (Even though Voldemort was gone, the rumour of the curse placed on the position still lingered, and made people nervous. They never stayed longer than a year.)

Anyway, he was going to miss all this. It was, after all, all he knew.

But at the same time he couldn't wait to leave. To see places, meet people, to try his wings and find himself, and to finally be able to do it in a world without Voldie.

To kill the old toad had actually been ridiculously easy, if you skip the part about living in a ditch for nearly to months. Harry had spent his sixth year doing basically three things. He learned a complex spell to bind the final piece of Lord Voldemort in a easily destroyed horcrux, how to shoot a muggle gun and rifle, and how to pretend that he was still as clueless as always. (Ron had claimed he didn't need to act.)

It had been a smooth, but slightly bizarre journey, all thanks to the person elected to teach him, to be his mentor, his personal guide and moral support, namely Severus Snape.

Every week, Wednesday night at 7:30 PM Harry had dutifully trotted down to the dungeons and spent three-and-a-half hours in Snapes private quarters. It had been surprisingly not-horrible, after they vented some frustrations and screamed at each other and called a truce. Sometime in January, Harry and Sevvie (which Harry was under no circumstances allowed to call him, but did anyway) had developed a friendship based on insults and constant verbal bating. Harry found it relaxing and oddly freeing, in a way.

After the leaving feast of sixth year Harry and Severus had departed from Hogwarts to spend some time in what Harry would later come to refer to as The Shed in The Ditch. It was a very old, very small and very rickety cottage, built in a very small pit, about a half a mile from McNair Manor. They spent a month taking reports from Lucius Malfoy about the guarding routines and the planned death eater meetings. They eventually got hold of blueprints of the manor, and slowly begun to plan. On his birthday, the now seventeen year old Harry had sneaked inside of the manor. Once confronted with the Dark Lord himself, he had promptly blown his brains out. After capturing Voldies soul in an old tea cup, he then returned to Grimmauld place and proceeded to get himself smashed beyond recognition. Remus, Severus, Hermione, Tonks and Kingsley had found this to be a brilliant course of action, and joined him. Severus had to brew hang-over potions for all of them the next day.

Looking back now, Harry realised that it might not have been the best idea, since Molly Weasly was still residing at Grimmauld place. But still, he hadn't expected to survive long enough to see his seventeenth birthday. Some celebration had been in order. Even Dumbledore had seemed to think so, and had given Harry a 243 year old bottle of fine red wine for his late birthday present. And the celebrations seemed to go on, if the look of the Great Hall was anything to go by. It was decorated in all the house colours of Hogwarts, with more candles then ever lit, to shed some light on the huge banner floating over the teachers table which read: ' United we stood, and together we gained freedom!'

It was definitely Dumbledores doing since it glittered in lilac and was set to randomly flash in orange. If the food could actually get any better, it probably had, but no one noticed much difference.

The Sorting had gained them some new little Gryffindors, Dumbledore had said his usual nonsense of words (' Pickle, smack down, macaroon and sprinkles!'), and Ron was yet again, stuffing his face full with chicken drum sticks. Hermione was trying to get him to use his napkin while having a conversation about S.P.E.W with a not so enthusiastic Ginny. Al was as it should be. Harry was just about to get Seamus down from his high horse about the Galway Ghosts winning the cup, when Dumbledore rose once again to speak. Silence fell over the Great hall with a feel of expectation, since so far it had been pleasant surprises only. (More quiddditch matches this year, private rooms for Head boy and girl and prefects and an option to choose new courses if you had made choices you had later come to regret. Ron was most pleased about the latter, considering he was failing Divination rather extravagantly.)

"My dear, dear friends, my students, my fellow teachers!" Dumbledore exclaimed.

"What times we have seen! Such deeds of bravery, hope and strength one only dreamed of in our sweetest dreams, and yet we have lived to see them. Many people turned out to be other than what they appeared, both for good and for bad, and sometime during last year I came to the conclusion that some of you are not in the houses where you truly belong."

He paused at this, and at first no one but Hermione seemed to catch on.

She turned to Harry and looked at him with confusion shining in her eyes, a not very common expression for her. "Harry, surely he doesn't mean..." she trailed off, and left Harry none the wiser. However, Dumbledore continued.

"Thus, I have decided that from now on, every fifth year shall be resorted at the opening feast every year. Since this is the first time, I see it only to be just to resort the sixth and seventh years tonight as well."

For e moment a complete, stunned silence reigned in the Hall. But when Dumbledore sat down again, it exploded with sound. Shouts of joy and expectation mingled with screeches of

indignity and protest. However, Harry noticed with a sense of relief that the majority of the student body seemed happy with the change. He himself had seen this coming for a long time, as he had seen the segregation in the houses both before and during the war. It was time for change. Beside him, Ron was sitting with his jaw to the floor and simply gaping at the very smug smile that the headmaster was sporting.

"Harry, he's joking, right? He must be. Tell me he's bloody joking, Harry!"

Harry was positive that the only thing running through his friends mind right now was the idea of having to be sorted with the Slytherins. While trying to calm Ron, Harry found his eyes calmly surveying the Great Hall. The Ravenclaws seemed to take the news with ease, as they had reached the conclusion that most of them were going right back to their table after getting the sorting hat put on their heads. The Hufflepuffs seemed nervous, but still slightly cheerful, much as they always did. Since the greatest Hufflepuff-ability was first and foremost their way to make friends with almost anyone, they didn't have much to worry about. Glancing around his own table, he saw faces mostly set to determination, determination to not let this beat them down most likely, and Harry felt an odd sense of pride. This kind of courage was the kind that was differential for the true Gryffindors, and it was that kind of pride that he had found among many of his fellow students when they had finally understood that war was upon them. Harry doubted that many of the Gryffindors had much to worry about either.

Finally, looking at the Slytherin table, he was met with a surprise. Though many of them was sporting expressions of indifference or speculation, almost half of them seemed genuinely happy with the decision. To Harry it seemed that the majority of the students would leave the Great Hall happy that night.

"Potter, Harry!" Harrys name rang out loud and clear in the Hall, and the student body seemed to hold their breath. Since Voldies sudden demise, Harry had become if possible, even more famous then before. The decision of his housing could be more decisive then ever. They hadn't been sorted alphabetically, so Harry wondered if Dumbledore might have had something to do with him being sorted last of everyone.

He walked calmly up the steps to the low stool and sat down. Before the Hat was put on his head he got one last look of the tables before him, now with some new additions to them. Hermione had to no ones surprise been placed at the Ravenclaw table, and the house had welcomed her with open arms like it's prodigal daughter returned home. Ron had ended up back in Gryffindor, no chock their either, and the relief had shone clearly in his eyes. It had dimmed a bit though, when Hermione left and when Seamus had promptly walked over to the Slytherin table and shook hands with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.

Shortly after that, Malfoy had been resorted back in Slytherin, Neville had left Gryffindor for Hufflepuff, Zachariah Smith had been sorted into Slytherin and Zabini had traded green for Blue and become a Ravenclaw. Ginny had been sorted into Slytherin at Rons indignant cry, along with a sly looking, dark haired, seventh year boy from Hufflepuff, and now it was Harrys turn.

He was quite certain as to where he might end up, but his thoughts was abruptly cut off by an alien presence in his mind.

"Well, well.. What have we here, hmm?" The Sorting Hat sounded way to smug for it's own good, and Harry had no doubts on where he was going. "You refused my choice the last time, but now there is no other option than to put you in SLYTHERIN!" As the last word was shouted out for all to hear, it only took a few seconds before the students followed the teachers example and applauded politely. He stood up and looked at his robes and tie just in time to see them change from red and gold to green and silver, the snake replacing the lion on his chest. Smiling broadly, very satisfied with the result, Harry marched straight down to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Seamus who slapped him on the back, and Pansy who tried not to stare at him. Harrys smile turned smug. If there was anything he loved, besides flying, it was to surprise people.

For a while the Hall was filled with pleasant chatter amongst the students and the teachers, and Harry slowly snacked on some salt pretzels and let others do the talking. This was a trick he had picked up from Albus himself. When confronted with silence, people have a tendency to talk to fill it. Harry was eager to find out more about his new housemates so that he could figure out how to approach them. Mostly the talk around him concerned introductions and some quick background stories (though not much about blood and ancestry, Harry noted), and later on quiddditch and schoolwork. So far everyone stayed clear of the war, by an unspoken rule. Harry soon found out that Ginny and Pansy had loads in common, and that Severus Snape wasn't the mean bastard everyone presumed him to be, he just loathed Gryffindors for their cheek and Hufflepuffs for their lack of backbone, and he secretly admired the Ravenclaws for their intelligence, but told no one. Harry stuck with the non-talking principle and refrained from telling everyone that he already knew that, even though it would have made for a smashing topic of conversation – "How I Killed Mouldy-Wart With The Help Of A Grumpy Potions Master."

But he soon noticed that he wasn't the only one not speaking. At the far end of the table sat Draco Malfoy, notorious bully and turn coat, looking as speculative as ever, his blond hair falling in neat bangs around his now grown up face. Every now and then he would twirl his trademark ring - with a stylised M in silver and red – around his ring finger with his thumb and stare deeply into his goblet, as if looking for the secrets of eternal life in it.

If indeed he did, Harry could tell him right there and then, it wasn't pretty.

And speaking of pretty, Harry had never realised that Dracos eyes were quite that mercury shade of silver, with such impossibly long eyelashes- and that's when he realised that for him to see Dracos eyes, Draco must be looking at him. Wondering how much of a fool he had made of himself, Harry broke eye contact and proceeded to blush into his bowl of pretzels, not noticing that Draco was blushing too.

Seamus however, did notice and started to mentally crack his knuckles. Match-making was his thing, damnit!

At Dumbledores cue, all the students rose to the shouts from the Head Boy and Girl, and prefects from respective houses. Pansy took it upon herself to manage the first years while Draco rose and spoke. "Slytherins, follow me for the new password!" There was no sneer, harry noted, only a cool sort of politeness. Very neutral. It made Harry itch to see the real Draco Malfoy. He got up from the table and jogged over to hug Hermione good night, and to ensure Ron that everything would be fine. He turned back just in time to see the Slytherins begin to leave the Great Hall. Picking up his pace and running after them, he ran smack into a tall figure dressed in black. After straightening his glasses and establishing who this dark and looming character was, he winced silently. Not anyone had the unbelievable luck to run into Severus Snape, even if he turned out to be a comrade-in-arms and ones new Head of House.

Around them, students fell silent and held their collective breaths as they prepared themselves mentally for the wrath that was Professor Snape, scorned. But when Snape simply straightened his robes and looked down his crooked nose at his student and said simply "No running in the Great Hall, Mr Potter. Do it again and I will take house points." and walked away, collective jaws fell to the floor. Harry though, just smiled and walked calmly over to the waiting Slytherins. Meeting the perplexed eyes of Draco Malfoy, he simply raised an eyebrow and gave a half-smile. The blondes look of confusion lifted and instead he looked impressed. With a small nod, he turned and began to walk. Harry instead had to occupy himself with answering the incredibly excited Seamus who wanted to know exactly how one should go about to get Snape to treat you like something other than excrement under his boot.

Harry simply laughed and kept on walking.

Being a Slytherin would be nice, he silently decided.

After having arrived to his new common room, (Which looked almost exactly like they had five years ago, but seemed more welcoming now), got the tour for his new dorm and been told of the unofficial rules and various passwords of the Slytherin House, Harry was on the verge of having a fit. His nicotine patch had stopped working during the feast, and now he was itching for a cigarette. This was a bad habit he had picked up during the time in The Shed in The Ditch with Sevvie. Not being able to relax properly, both Harry and Severus had smoked to pass the time. It hadn't taken long to get Harry hooked, and Remus actually got Harry a beautiful Zippo-lighter for his birthday, engraved with the Potter crest on one side and the Black crest on the other.

Harry had been pleased to notice that since the Slytherin dorms was in the dungeons, someone had probably felt that the children wouldn't get enough sun and had built them a terrace. One simply walked up two flights of stairs which could be found in the common room, and through a thick wooden door and had a space the size of a second common room with weather proof furniture and a see-through roof at ones dispense. After making sure that that Seamus was properly entertained with chatting with the sly looking ex-Hufflepuff, Damien ..something, since Seamus had a habit of getting jittery if bored, Harry sneaked up the two flights of stairs and sank down in an extremely comfortable armchair, his back to the door.

He pulled out a battered pack of smokes and was just about to light up when he heard the door open again. Mentally cursing and filing away his beloved lighter and cigarette in a pocket as quietly as he could he made to stand up when the sound of a match being lit reached his ears. The unmistakable sound of someone inhaling and then blowing out smoke followed, and was

sealed with a content sigh. Harry stood up quickly and turned around to find himself facing a very surprised and guilty looking blond with a Marlboro between his lips.

"Potter?"

"Malfoy."

After assessing the other for a moment, Harry saw the usual mask of contempt slide into place on other boys face.

"You going to turn me in, Potter?" The sneer was back, and Malfoy was in full defence mode.

Harry decided to try and preserve the peace for as long as possible, and slowly reached into his pocket to pull out his Zippo and his own pack of Marlboro. Keeping steady eye contact with the blonde before him, he lit his cigarette and took a deep drag.

"Only if you turn me in." Came the response, and Draco seemed pleased.

"Well, well, WELL. You got more balls then I thought, Potter. Where have you been hiding them all this time?" There was a slight sneer, But Harry realised there was a genuine question somewhere in the insult, and for some reason he felt compelled to answer it.

"I had to put up a face Malfoy, just like you. Voldemorts greatest weaknesses was his fear of death and his arrogance. Since he didn't expect me to have the balls to attack him, I had the element of surprise." He noticed that Draco neither winced, nor jerk at his use of the Dark Lords name. "Plus, I was the Gryffindor Golden boy. If I had started to show Slytherin tendencies people would have thought I was under the Imperius Curse or whatever."

Draco seemed taken aback with his honest answer, and Harry took another drag on his cigarette to hide his nervousness. Why he was nervous, he really had no idea, but he held his mental breath while waiting for the other boys reaction.

Glancing up, he saw that Dracos facial expression had changed yet again, and it seemed that he was not trying to determine if Harry was yanking his chain or being truthful, and if so, how come?

"So, how'd' you do it?" The question came out of nowhere and caught Harry by surprise.

"Sorry?"

"How did you do it? How did you end that stinking pile of garbage that struck fear in the heart of wizardkind?" Draco repeated with a theatrical voice, the suspicious expression never leaving his face.

Ah. Harry had been waiting for that one since he had stepped onto platform 9 and ¾, but so far, no one had had the guts to ask him. Of course, Draco Malfoy would be the first. Taking a deep breath he decided to both summarise and censor his response.

"A very old, Celtic soul binding-spell and a Glock 22. And some wandless stunning. That's about it. And of course, the balls to go through with it."

He took another drag, but this time to chase away the memories of the Manor and that awful summer spent waiting and waiting and planning and waiting some more. It had been hell on earth. He had actually felt a short bout of relief when he got the go-ahead to make his move, if only for a little while. Facing Draco yet again, he continued since Draco didn't seem inclined to reply just yet.

"It was hell for the nerves, but it seems very fitting to.. end him, in such a muggle fashion. And we- I, probably couldn't have done it without your fathers help."

Draco raised his eyebrow at his slip-ups but said nothing, and then nodded, looking thoughtful at the mention of his father.

Lucius Malfoy had been all sneers and insults and not worth a shite as far as Harry had been concerned, at least when it came to testimonies. The elder Malfoy had switched sides once Voldemort had sent a small army to attack Hogwarts at the end of Harrys sixth year. When only six Death Eaters escaped the DA, it had been made painfully clear that the side of light was going to fight fire with fire. Harry had later given the facts at Malfoy Sr.'s trial, but not been very persuasive about keeping him out of jail, but if he was going to help bridge the gap between himself and his new dorm mate, so be it.

Deciding it was time to press Malfoy for some answers himself, harry took another drag and gathered up some courage. After all, if this was a sensitive area they might as well blow off the potential friendship right now.

"So, what was your real position in this thing? Were you following in daddy dearest footsteps as always or where you going to think for yourself for once?" He bit back a wince as soon as he had said it, realising how harsh it had sounded, but Malfoy saw this and shook his head.

"No, I deserved that. I spent my entire childhood repeating my fathers words, even when I doubted them. But when he made it clear that it was his way or no way, I was prepared to pack and leave, inheritance or no." Once again picking at his Malfoy ring, he spoke up again. "If it was one thing he taught me it was pride, and I was not about to crawl before a madman looking to destroy the evolution of the wizarding world. But make no mistake, nor was I about to sacrifice my life to ensure its prosperity. After all, we're not all Gryffindors at heart."

Meeting Harrys eyes head on, Dracos expression was one of an inquiring challenge.

Harry accepted it, and nodded his head. "Understandable. It would have pained me to have been forced to send you to Azkaban." Draco answered his slightly unsure smile with a raised eyebrow and a steady smile of his own.

"Oh, be sure Harry, it would have pained me too."

And on that note, he stood, crushed the butt of his cigarette under his boot clad foot, gave a polite and somewhat ironic bow, turned and left.