Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I wish I did, then I wouldn't be in debt, but I am so I do not.

And I have no idea where this story came from. I was reading Clipped Wings and Inked Armor and working on the next chapter of RaH when the next thing I know I've typed this. I think its supposed to be sort of amusing. I also think my muse and I need to discuss the definition of amusing.

What the Hell? A Day in the Life of Harry Potter

Harry woke up that morning with the feeling that it would be better if he just went back to sleep and ignored the world for the day. The ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach was the same he got every time the shit was about to hit the fan and he was not at all ready to deal with the messy ceiling today. His nightmares had been horrendous, Voldemort and his abusive uncle and Voldemort and his uncle and Voldemort and Sirius and Voldemort and his uncle and Voldemort and Cedric and Voldemort and his uncle, well I'm sure you get the picture. Anyway, Harry ignored the feeling and swung his legs over the side of the bed, only to find that the way down was a lot shorter than it usually was. Surprised he looked at his suddenly longer legs and then realized that the hands clenched on his thighs not only looked different but where in complete focus despite the fact that he had not yet put his glasses on. Experimentally he put them on and then pulled them off hastily when he discovered that to do so made his vision decidedly blurry.

Shrugging this off as yet another one of those strange things that only seemed to happen to his he stood and rummaged through his trunk for a clean uniform, idly scratching the dragon tattoo wrapped around his ribs as he did so. Ignoring his roommates, who were giving him very odd looks Harry wandered into the bathroom, dumped his stuff in front of a sink and jumped into the shower. During his shower he discovered several rather disturbing things. Not only was he now taller, his hands were longer, as was another, unmentionable portion of his anatomy, but his nose had grown and so had his hair. And from what he could see it had inexplicable red streaks running through it.

Finally finished with his ruminations, discoveries, morning jacking off, and cleansing Harry stepped out of the shower and donned his boxers before picking up his toothbrush and looking in the mirror. Green eyes widened comically and then the boy who defeated Voldemort crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

He woke sometime later in the hospital wing to find Dumbledore peering at him, eyes twinkling madly over his half rim glasses. Taking one of the proffered lemon drops he pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around the room. Spotting Snape leaning against a far wall he instantly remembered why he was there in the first place.

"Why the fuck do I look like him?" He spat, suddenly angry that he looked like a miniature version of the person who hated him so much. Not that the feeling was returned or anything. Oh no, of course Harry has been nothing but sweet to him over the last seven years.

"Well my boy, that is a very good question. You see, the adoption on you should not have broken. There is only one way to break a blood adoption and so far as I know you have not found or been found by your soul mate so you should still be the son of James Potter and not the son of his biggest enemy."

"Son? What the fuck are you going on about old man? That fucker is not my father! Fathers don't treat their sons the way he has treated me! He's tortured me!" Harry was not about to point out that his own uncle had been worse, that would defeat the point. Besides he was in no condition to even think of that right now. How would you react to finding out that your most hated professor was actually your father who apparently hated you so much he gave you up for adoption to his most hated enemy? "Actually, screw that. I don't want to know the answer to any of that. I want you to fix this. I want my body back!"

"Sadly Potter that is not possible." Snape's velvet chocolate voice slid into the conflict. "If the blood adoption has broken we cannot restore it since the man by whom you were adopted is deceased. Believe me, the thought of having you wander around looking like myself is enough to have me scouring every portion of my memory for a way to help you but it does not exist. Like it or not you are now my son, not Potters."

Harry looked at him in disbelief, screamed in rage and abruptly Apparated himself out of the room. After all, he was the most powerful wizard since Merlin therefore he could do what ever the fuck he wanted magically.

Moments afterwards a blonde angel stormed into the Hospital Wing. "Where is he?"

"Where is who young Master Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked with way too innocent a smile on his aged face.

"MY HARRY" Draco shouted.

"Ah, I was afraid you were going to say that. I'm not quite sure as to his exact location at this moment."

"WHAT!?!?!?! HOW THE FUCK DID YOU MANAGE TO LOSE MY HARRY?" With every shouted word sparks flew from Draco's skin and as he repeated Harry's name large silver wings erupted from his back. You could have heard a pin drop in the room before the silence was broken by Snape's whispered "motherfucker."

It had all become clear to the two wizards standing there. The reason for Harry's broken blood adoption was standing before them. He was soul bonded to a Veela. And he was not going to be happy about it either, especially since the Veela in question happened to be his most bitter enemy now that Voldemort had been defeated. Things were just not going Harry's way today!

Deep below the castle Harry was watching the scene in the Hospital Wing with a growing sense of horror. He too recognized those wings for what they were and he knew all to well what that meant. He was about to become Malfoy's bitch.

"I knew I shouldn't have gotten up today," he muttered as he crashed his head into the skull of the moldering basilisk behind him.