I don't own anything, JK Rowling's world of Harry potter, only Robin is mine (Mine alll mine mwhahahaha) yadayadayada. Please R&R

Robin Sl8tr

Chapter 2

"Mr Slater, we've decided to stick you in Gryffindor," Mrs McGonagall informed Robin as she sheparded him up to the dorms so that he could sort out his unpacking, "You're in a dormitory with Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Mr Thomas, Mr Finnegan and Mr Longbotton – Ah, don't snigger, Mr Slater, it is rude to snigger at someone's name! Sniggering is reserved for Peeves and Mountain trolls."

Robin stifled his grin and ignored her, carrying on marvelling at the moving portraits, the moving stair cases and the moving candles above them. Does anything ever not move here? He thought to himself.

"I don't really want to go any further than this," Mrs McGonagall announced as she held the door to the boys dorms, "So, off you go. And don't get into any trouble, Mr Slater, I'm warning you."

Robin sauntered into the middle of the room. Only one bed was unoccupied. All five teenagers stared Robin down as if he was something you'd want swept under the rug.

Robin clicked his tongue awkwardly, "So... Which is my bed?"

All five boys pointed sharply to the bed in a dusty, secluded corner of the room. They didn't take their narrowed eyes off him as he walked over there; they didn't take them off him as he was unpacking. They didn't even look away when he opened Treeder's cage to give the bird a stroke under her beak. Robin had a soft spot for all animals, except for a certain shark-cat.

The other five boys slowly began to converse together, purposely excluding Robin. They wanted to make it as clear as possible that he wasn't wanted. Robin wanted to make it as clear as possible that he didn't care.

"Yeah, and my brother's joke shop is like-" Ron said, catching Robin's attention.

"Joke shop?" Robin sat up from his bed. The boys turned their heads towards him, "Joke shop...of course! They're the Weasley twins, Fred and George! Gred and Forge!"

Seamus looked at him like he was mad, "Yes..."

"I know them!" Robin exclaimed.

Ron looked at Harry uncertainly, "That's great..."

"They're friends of mine," Robin smirked, "Good guys."

Ron decided to ignore him and carried on with his conversations. The boys, excluding Robin, chatted about Quiditch, the summer Holidays, and of course, girls. Robin's ears pricked at this, and he lay on his bed as quietly as he could to listen in.

"Hermione got fit this year," Dean Thomas said, ducking as a pillow came flying in his direction.

"Dude!" Harry said, launching another pillow, "She's my best-" Ron coughed, "- Second best friend!"

Dean raised his eyebrows, "Yeah, sure, whatever."

Harry got his IPhone out of his pocket, "Look at this back flip I did on my new broom. How cool is it?!"

"I thought we're not allowed phones in school?" Robin challenged.

"Yeah, we're not allowed Dragon's either, but ask Hagrid..." Seamus said as he bit down into a chocolate frog. The chocolate goo oozed down his chin.

Robin sighed, put his IPod onto shuffle mode and relaxed against the bed posts of his bed. It was a nice piece of furniture. Dragons and lions were carved into the wood, and the blankets were heavy and red and gold. Someone had nailed a Gryffindor scarf to the posts years before, and it sat there, gathering dust in a symbol of everlasting Lion Pride.

Robin looked down at his watch, a well worn gold and leather piece. It was almost time for dinner. Ron's stomach rumbled so loudly, Robin could have sworn that he saw some owls flying away from the Owlery. That signalled the start of dinner time.

The five boys, plus Robin tagging along at the end, headed down the moving stone stair cases, through the corridors and down into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was like nothing Robin had ever seen before in his life. It was grand, and majestic and looked like it was fit enough for kings. Each table was plastered with the most delicious looking food that you could imagine, and a low rumble from Ron's stomach confirmed that it was.

Robin sat down and tore his way through a chicken leg. It was soft and tender and tasted beautifully, by far the best piece of meat he had ever consumed. Robin piled his plate almost to the ceiling with mashed potatoes, ice cream, carrots, chicken legs, Yorkshire Puddings, bread pudding, turkey, stuffing and every other delight consumable.

Hermione and some other Gryffindor girls sat down at the tables, huddling together and throwing giggles and flirtatious eyelash-batting at Robin as he ate as attractively as possible. Then, Hermione hissed something at them and they began to scowl at him like he was something they'd scraped up from the bottom of their high heels.

Thanks, Hermione, Robin thought as he took a begrudging bite into his fifth chicken wing. Robin was sure he'd get fat from all of this food, but as he looked around, he noticed that hardly anyone else was, give or take a few pudgy Slytherins. Maybe everyone at Hogwarts had high metabolism or something.

After dinner, Robin tagged along to Quiditch practise. Although he had never played himself, the sport fascinated him. He longed to fly on a broomstick, but he didn't own one. Perhaps the school lent them out?

"Hey, Harry, can I borrow your broom?" Robin finally gathered his courage to ask.

Harry raised his eyebrow, "Uh, yeah, okay..." He dismounted on the sand and held his hand on it as it floated beside him, waist height.

Robin swaggered over to the broom, grasped it on the handles, swung his leg over the beam and hung there awkwardly, legs floating in the air and smashing his privates in an uncomfortable way.

"Well, this isn't so baAAAAAAD!" Robin said before he was flown halfway across the Quiditch field, legs wrapped around the wood as the broom bolted two and fro.

Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ron and Harry stood beneath, tracing the broom and the boy like cats watching a laser, or tennis enthusiasts at Wimbledon.

"Do you think he's ever ridden a broom before?" Harry asked after a minute as Robin was hurtled over the neck of the broom, but somehow flipped back into the seat.

"No chance in hell." Ron said bluntly, hand against his forehead to reduce the glare of rare English sun.

"Should we help him?" Harry asked.

"No chance in hell."

Robin woke up the next morning in the hospital wing with a headache the size of an asteroid. He had a cloth bandaged to his face, and a cloth bandaged to that, and another on top so that he looked like mummy. His eyes were big and blue and swollen, and his fingers felt like they had bricks stapled to his nails. His right leg hung up in the air attached to a beam above the bed. It was casted up in a concrete like material, and frankly Robin was disappointed that they hadn't bothered to zap it better with a quick healing spell. Instead, he had to hobble around the castle leaning on two crutches. He thought that the moving stairs would probably not move to his favour.

He blinked his eyes open. It was like he'd only been there five minutes and already he'd ended up, bandaged and plastered, in hospital. That was before the other students could get their hands on him. Robin knew that once they knew who he was, or more like who his family was, he'd have no chance. He kay back in bed and stared up at the ceiling, cursing his brother. Scabior wasn't necessarily a bad guy...okay, yes he was, but he was only doing his job. He got payed a butt-load of money with the Slater family really needed right then. Money had always been tight in the Slater Household, but for the past few years it was like being crushed against a brick wall whilst a thug emptied your pockets for you. And then their dad died.

Harry strolled up to the bed with a bored look on his face, "Look, mate, I'm sorry about my broom chucking you off and all that...no harm done, right?" He stuck his hand out as a sign of truce.

Robin gave a sarcastic look to his broken leg. No harm done. But he shook Harry's hand anyway. He needed more friends than enemies.

He hobbled into Potions class the next day on his crutches and leaning on Harry's shoulder for support. Harry obviously felt a bit guilty about the whole accident, and if Ron did, he didn't show it. Ron was avoiding/ignoring/not-so-accidently-bumping into him in the corridors. He always seemed to have is arm around Hermione when Robin walked past either of them, and Ron shot him evil glares as if it was he himself who kidnapped Hermione, not his brother. His stupid brother.

Robin noticed that Ron went to the toilet one Potions lesson, and he took the opportunity to hop over there and speak to her. She had her concentration fixated on the Potions book in front of her. What was she making? Love potion.

He snuck up behind her. She was so engrossed in her book that she didn't even notice until he was breathing down her neck.

"Love potion?" Robin asked, making Hermione jump and suddenly slam the book shut.

"I- Uh –Um – I was not!" Hermione stuttered before turning around. Robin's nose was only a few centimetres away from her. He towered over her, so close that he could smell the perfume on her.

Perfume. He was close enough to smell her perfume.

Hermione shuddered. She had been in this situation before. With another member of the Slater family. She felt faint.

Robin's face looked concerned. He backed away, "Sorry... Didn't mean to scare you, Hermione."

Hermione was shocked.

"Hermione? You called me Hermione?" She turned back away to shield her blushing face, "Why not 'Mudblood'? It's what all of you other Slytherins call me..."

"I'm not Slytherin." Robin hissed, "In case you didn't notice, I'm actually in your house: Gryffindor."

"Oh."

Robin was outraged that she thought he was in Slytherin. Just because his brother was. Just because Scabior, the evil dog who ruined Robin's life and everyone around him, was in Slytherin.

As Robin began to hobble away, he called back, "And I don't believe in calling people - or judging people to be - anything other than what they are."

He leaned on his crutches, face reddened with anger, and prepared to storm as angrily as someone with a bright pink and extremely unmanly cast on their leg can, out of the class room.

And that was when Ron rugby-tackled Robin around the waist. Robin clattered down onto the floor, crutches sent flying across the room. Ron pelted him with punch after punch to his gut.

"Don't you dare speak to Hermione!" Ron shouted as he stood up and delivered four swift kicks to Robin's head, "Not after what your brother did to her!"

Robin found himself numbing out. The potions classroom was beginning to fade, the cries of students echoed darkly all around him. Some even seemed to be cheering him on. Robin didn't want to stop Ron. He knew he could if he wanted to, easily, but that would only get him into trouble he didn't deserve. Instead he just lay there and closed his eyes, waiting for the welcome blackness to guide him out.