I own only my horse, my body, and my decisions.

Fiction owns my mind.

None of that owns Harry Potter and affiliates. Unfortunately.

Quotes used from the book in this chapter WILL NOT be precise. They have been altered to fit my pleasure.

Vote number one has come in: Voldemort/Harry

Vote number two has been suggested: Harry/OC (A teacher, possibly. Someone well versed in the dark arts and intent on teaching Harry that Darkness and Pleasure go hand in hand. This idea could also apply to vote number one.)

Thanks to DreamBeamz and DawnScarlet19610 for being not only my first reviewers/voters, but also for encouraging me to get this next chapter out so soon. To others, please review. I do so enjoy it.

The Scent of Fear

The teasing feeling of something brushing against his skin was what woke him up the following morning and he absently rolled onto his back and waved his hand off to the side as if to brush away an annoying bug. When he felt himself slipping back into unconsciousness the feeling returned and he slit open his abnormally colored green eyes, scowling up at the ceiling.

Alright, I'm up, he thought to himself, vaguely aware of the fact that his clock blinked 0545 on his bedside table. With an inaudible sigh he sat up and the sheets and thick duvet that he had been snuggled comfortably under pooled around his naked waist. He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth as it opened wide. Everyone else was still asleep and he was sequestered behind the dark green drapes that hid his bed from the other's that shared the dorm room with him.

With another tickle across his arm he thinned out his lips and murmured out a curse word under his breath, shoving the duvet down and off of his legs, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh as the cold air of the dungeons hit everything that was not covered by his nearly too large briefs. He didn't mind the cold, though. He never really had.

Barefooted and blinking away the sleep still invading his eyelids he swung himself off of the bed to stand, stretching his back almost like a cat as he surveyed his surroundings. He had not bothered to take much in the previous night because he had been more than ready to hit the mattress as soon as they had been shown into the Slytherin Common rooms and as he looked around he realized that this was exactly what he would imagine a dorm room in a dungeon to look like. Stone walls and floor surrounded him with a ceiling that was neither too low or grandiosely high. Each bed had matching canopies, and each boy's trunk sat in the same spot at the foot of the beds. There was a green and silver large round carpet in the center of the floor with the crest of Slytherin decorating it and Harry was pretty sure that he saw the green snake blink back at him as he studied it.

He brushed it aside and opened his trunk to dig out his toiletries bag and towel before moving towards the bathroom; though he did walk around the large carpet instead of over it even though it took him a longer time and distance. There was no reason to be rude.

Shutting the door behind him he eyed the bathroom dispassionately. Ornate silver faucets sprang out from the walls at the sinks shaped like winding snakes with mouths opened where the water would spill forth. The mirrors behind each sink were old looking, but clean and pretty in their own sort of way. He bypassed them and made his way towards the shower, each showerhead separated by a dark green wall as a divider, with the shower heads fashioned much the same as the water faucets. Harry shook his head minutely but did not complain. It was the house of snakes, he supposed.

The warm water faucet was yanked all the way to the right and the pipes groaned a moment before water erupted from them. He sidestepped the stream, not really planning on getting his briefs wet, and hung his towel up on the opposite wall above a little shelf he assumed was for his bag. After digging out his shampoo, conditioner, and body wash he turned and smiled at the steam rolling off of the falling water and nearly sighed in pleasure when he stepped beneath the scorching heat.

It had been a long time since he had been able to indulge in such a hot shower. Usually his were cold and short so he was not about to pass up the luxury of being able to stand around and waste water. He closed his eyes and moved further into the stream, turning his face a bit upwards so that it could hit him in the face as he blindly let his bottles fall to the floor, keeping hold only of his shampoo.

He stood there just basking in the water as it pinked his flesh but after a while he began his routine. Shampoo once, shampoo twice, condition. He hummed to himself as he threaded his fingers through his shoulder length black hair, enjoying the feel of unrushed freedom. It had been too long. Then the body wash came, then rinsing off, and he was in a rather good mood as he regretfully turned the shower water off, the entire bathroom filled with the steam from his solo shower. Ah well. The mirrors would be cleared before anyone else woke up, he was sure.

He did not expect to encounter anyone else awake at such a god awful time in the morning so when he finished drying his hair and tucked the towel around his waist in order to stand at one of the sinks and brush his teeth, having wiped a streak of the mirror clean so that he could see his own reflection, he was quite surprised when the door to the bathroom swung open and a skinny little blonde boy draped in what he could only assume were silk pajamas stumbled in, he froze mid-brush.

It took a second but sure enough the blonde scrunched up his face and looked up. Straight. At. His. Back….

"What the-" the blonde boy started in a clear display of surprise, eyes wide and jaw slack, but Harry spit out the toothpaste in his mouth and didn't bother to rinse off his toothbrush before he shoved it back into his bag, turning to face the blonde with a rather thunderous expression on his face. As he stalked closer to the boy, daring him to finish his sentence with his eyes, the other male pressed his own back against the stone wall of the bathroom. When Harry got close enough he offered the boy a predatory smile and leaned towards him, one hand moving to lay flat against the wall next to the boy's head, his voice coming out as a very dangerous whisper.

"You saw nothing. You will say nothing. Is that understood?"

The blonde boy, Draco Malfoy if he remembered the pretentious prat squawking it properly, flicked his eyes over Harry's shoulder and around the bathroom until Harry lowered his hand to his shoulder and curled his fingers over it as he leaned even closer, his voice dropping even further. "Do we understand each other?" They were so close that their noses were almost touching.

Frightened grey eyes finally met his own again and Harry noted with a vague since of satisfaction that the boy's pale skin had nearly gone sheet white as he gave the smallest nod. Taking it for what it was worth he stepped back and collected his belongings before brushing past the other male again to the door, hand falling to the handle even as he pinned the boy with a sideways glance, vivid green eyes narrowed even while his lips curled upwards in a small smirk.

"Good boy," he crooned, as if to a dog, and swept out to leave the stunned blonde panting in the bathroom alone. No one else was awake yet, as he originally suspected, and he quickly dressed in a loose pair of slacks and a faded grey extra-large t-shirt that made him look ridiculous. Without missing a beat he threw on his new school robes, absently noting that a Slytherin crest was now decorating the breast, and made his way out of the dormitory and into the common room where, still, there was no one else up except for him.

A glance to the clock on the wall of the common room told him that yes, it was still incredibly early, the ticking of the hands making him sigh. This was going to be a long year.

The tickle on the back of his neck moved over his shoulder and down over his chest, spurring him on towards the exit of the Slytherin commons, and he stepped through the opening portrait without complaint as he nodded to himself. Yes, yes. I know.

Prowling the corridors wasn't something he really wished to do this early on in the year. He had been convinced that he would get some sort of reprieve; a break for a day or two to get his bearing about it. But it could always be worse.

He was headed in the general direction that he remembered coming the night before, intent on getting somewhere that he could catch a bite to eat so that he wouldn't have to put up with the stares and the noise during breakfast, but when he passed a certain corridor and kept on walking there was a flutter across his chest and he slowed to a stop, staring blankly at a torch on the wall to his right.

Well nothing for it, I suppose.

He retraced his steps and turned down the unknown hallway, eyebrows only slightly raised as he looked back in forth to take in the paintings on the wall that either still slumbered themselves or watched him with a sort of rapt attention that he didn't quite like.

The further down the hallway he went the more his skin started to tingle and he wondered briefly what could be down this way… until he heard the unmistakable grumble of something snoring. In fact, the way it rumbled from quite a long distance down the hallway, he imagined that it had to be something quite a bit larger than him.

Sorry, but no.. he grumbled out, turning away and heading back the way he came. He shivered at the chill that passed over him but ignored it. Not going to happen today. It was only his first real day here, after all. What was he supposed to say if he went getting into all sorts of strange situations right off the bat?

He brushed his hand over his chest in a dismissive way and continued on towards where he knew the great hall to be.

Food, he hummed out in his mind, food is more important.

…..

As it turned out, he could tickle the painting of a pair in just the right spot and be given entrance to the kitchens.

Where elves worked.

Now, Harry was nowhere near an expert on elves, or for any other magical creature for that matter, but he had somehow believed that elves would be a little bit… more.

He stared at the little excitable creatures bouncing up and down in front of him on their ugly large feet, to the tattered clothes that barely covered some of them up (and he suspected that one or two of them were actually wearing dish cloths instead of actual clothing), to their misshapen and out of proportioned faces and floppy ears and wondered idly if perhaps all magical creatures were as ugly as house elves.

A flutter of amusement and a tingle in his fingertips and he moved to take a seat on a stool that seemed to materialize out of nowhere as the elves chattered to him in broken sentences; (Master Potter, sirs, we's be delighted! Master Potter, Sirs, Wilk bes humbled to help, sirs. Master Harry Potter, sirs, us house elves be happy to gets you early breakfast!) He almost felt inclined to ask them not to keep calling him Master Harry Potter, sirs, but kept it to himself. They had been born into this world. He had no right to correct whatever grammar they might have been taught.

For all he knew that could be the best any of them spoke.

So, after much reassurance that even though he didn't eat all twelve hotcakes or finish off the two glasses of orange juice that he was very much happy and full, he was finally able to make his slow escape back through the portrait of the pair with a bemused expression on his face, lips quirked as he brushed his bangs out of his eyesight once again and a chorus of "We's wishing Master Harry Potter a good day!" following behind him.

With time to spare and ample grounds to explore he decided that just maybe a glimpse of the outdoors while it was light out was in order. So with that slow, almost languid gait of his he moved down the corridors once more until he finally found his way out into the large courtyard that they had been brought through, his eyes scanning the lush greenery that surrounded the castle. It was a breathtaking sight, even he could allow himself to admit that.

He felt the slight need to ask how on earth such a large piece of beautiful land went unnoticed by the general.. what was the word? Mutton? Muggen?.. populace. He was aware that some sort of magic had to be helping such concealment but it all sounded rather complex to him. Maybe that's just because he grew up not being aware of.. the magical world.

He sidled over to a short stone wall that overlooked the entire front portion of the grounds and perched himself upon it, dangling his legs and kicking them out in a childish display of contentment. It was all very relaxing. The birds were whistling their morning songs and dew still hung on the grass from the night and he could even hear the leaves from the forest trees. He wanted to go poke around in there, too, but that would have to wait as well.

"The bell's rung for first class, you know."

The voice was quiet and came from somewhere to his right. When he looked he was unsurprised to find his newest metaphorical shadow standing there just behind him, almost close enough to reach out and touch. The short male was draped in his Slytherin robes as well, though Harry could tell that they were made of much richer fabric than his own, and his black shoes shined in the morning light. His sleeves were long enough to hang down over his hands, however, and the end of the robes brushed against his ankles. Harry raised one eyebrow at the older male, watching as Kotes raised up one dwarfed hand to brush stray strands of hair out from in front of his face, tucking them behind his ear with the rest of his chin length bobbed hair. Harry mused that it made the slightly older male look rather feminine, but he wouldn't dare say it out loud lest he get hit with some nasty sort of spell from a hidden wand.

"I suppose we should get going, then." He stood up and brushed the front of his robes off as if something had gotten on them and was mildly curious when a sheaf of parchment was shoved towards his chest. He took it slowly and read it over with a flick of his eyes.

"Your schedule," Kotes tonelessly offered in a needless explanation and Harry found himself giving a small smirk in Kotes' direction as he folded and tucked the page into his pocket with a nod.

"Potions first, it seems."

"Charms for me," Kotes tuned in. Without much else to say between them they both headed towards the entrance of the castle, the silence between them comfortable enough.

….

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory; even stopper death. How to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses; yes, Mr. Weasley, I can even attempt to show you how to booster your obviously lacking mental capacity."

If Harry was inclined to do so, he would have laughed whenever the Potions Master had first swept into the classroom and delivered his rather monotone yet impassioned speech. It was quite amusing. Even as the words registered in the back of his mind and he watched the red haired blue eyed boy from the previous night that had shared the same boat as him mottle red across his cheeks he thought that this class might be just enough alone to keep him entertained.

"Mr. Potter," that deep voice rolled out to him and he found himself raising his eyes to meet the gaze of his Potions Professor. "Where might you find a Bezoar stone?" The question was so sudden, so inane, that Harry was sure he made some sort of face as he sat back on the bench he had claimed as his own and he saw a hand fly up in the air towards the front of the class. A brown bushy haired girl was nearly coming off of her seat in excitement as her fingers wiggled in the air in attempt to garner their Professor's attention.

The man wasn't paying any mind. That sharp, hawk like gaze was zeroed In on Harry and he felt his spine going rigid with the attention as the muscles in his shoulders started to tighten. He wondered if there was something that Professor Snape had against him, but it wouldn't matter even if he did because Harry had no idea what he could have already done to have garnered such a look of pure loathing barely hidden behind thinned lips and a narrowed gaze.

When a long moment had passed of them staring at each other, neither really wishing to yield, he finally felt a telltale tingle across his chest and he took a deep breath before sitting on of his forearms across the front of the table top, his head canting a bit to the left and giving him the vague impression of a bird.

"I don't really know, Professor, but I think the girl in the front might. Try asking her?"

It was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. Even the Gryffindor first years that shared the class with the Slytherins turned to look at him as if he had lost his mind. A painful jab to his ribcage showed that one of his fellow housemates did NOT appreciate his cheek, and the clenching of jaw muscles and a tick in the Professor's forehead showed that no, he did not find the jibe funny either.

"Five points from Slytherin," the man snarled, whirling away from him to stalk back up to the front of the classroom. Harry thought he had won that particular round of whatever silent battle they apparently were engaged in, especially when a first year behind him whispered that no one in all of Snape's history as a teacher had ever pushed the man so far as to take points away from his own house.

Cheerfully, if a little bit too smugly, he picked up a quill and slid his neighbors spare piece of parchment towards himself as Snape waved his wand and notes for them to copy started appearing on the blackboard at the front of the room.

He wondered how annoyed he could actually make their Potions Professor get.

…..

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Pairing is still open. C'mon people.