Disclaimer:I own nothing. Still. Yay.

A/N: I started this chapter before I was supposed to (I still have 5 exams left. Goddd... one in two days. I should be studying/sleeping.) because all my reviews made me so happy. In particular, I would like to thank Jargon and White Water. These two have been with me from the start and I really wish they'd leave me signed reviews because I'd love to be able to reply to them!! This chapter is dedicated to them, because they really have been my most faithful reviewers. Also thanks to Rock'n'Slash, Magpie Quill, Ellyanah, Warrior Priestess,Befread and IVTwenty (sibling of anyway)- your reviews were loved! On with the show!!

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Harry awoke to his glasses poking him in his left ear. It was a strange sensation, not unlike cleaning your ears with a piece of wire instead of a cotton bud. Harry liked it. Upon returning to consciousness, Harry realised that the reason for his state of almost complete dress was due to the fact he had fallen asleep in his clothes.

'Bollocks,' Harry said loudly, so loudly that he woke up Blaise, who had been sleeping fitfully in the bed to his right. 'Morning!!!' Harry bellowed at the unfortunate boy, displaying a surprising amount of enthusiasm considering he'd just woken up with his glasses in his ear.
Blaise blinked.
Harry grinned.
Blaise groaned.
Harry waved.
Blaise rolled over and went back to sleep and Harry frowned in disappointment. Blaise was so far proving to be very entertaining and Harry was inclined to think that there would never be a dull moment around him.

Blaise now sleeping once again, Harry turned back to more pressing concerns, finding his trunk. The Slytherin dormitories consisted of six green four poster beds and three doors. Harry was already aware of one being the door they'd come in through and the other one being the bathroom, so he figured it was highly likely that their trunks were through the third door. They definitely weren't in the bedroom, which was so sparsely furnished Harry felt like a child in the depression era, though one which was considerably better fed, there would be NO rabbit stew for him if he could avoid it.

Pulling himself out of his disturbing train of though, Harry jumped out of bed and, adopting a spy-like crouch, slunk towards the third door.
'What are you doing?' It was Draco. Harry jumped and whirled around in surprise, pointing an imaginary laser at Draco's immaculately parted head. The blonde in question, was sitting Indian-style on his bed, cross-eyed and toes pointed, he looked like a deranged monk. Harry raised an eyebrow strangely not disturbed by Draco's pose,
'I think the real question is, what are YOU doing. You look like a retard.' Draco ignored him, though he did uncross his eyes. Harry eyed the third door. Then he eyed Draco.
'Draco, are our trunks behind the third door?' Harry asked. Draco had pretty much announced himself to be the knower of all things Slytherin, so Harry thought he was pretty safe asking him.
'Duh. Slytherin house is not like all the other Plebeian houses. They all keep their trunks at the foot of the bed,' Draco shook his head sadly, as if the very idea of keeping his trunk at the foot of his bed caused him physical pain, 'ours are unpacked and divided into sections behind that door. It's like one big dressing room!'

Draco smiled manically at the end of what was meant to be a one-word answer. Harry blinked, for a moment understanding how Blaise must have felt approximately two and a quarter minutes ago. Then he remembered that Draco was socially retarded, and smiled encouragingly back at him.
'Well done Draco!' Harry said, voice incredibly patronising, 'you're getting really good at prolonging conversations. Tomorrow, we'll start you on directing conversations!'Harry ended his pep talk with a large grin and double thumbs up, which died as soon as he noticed Draco's withering glare. Pouting, Harry decided to ignore Draco (he was like a dog, you had to be really obvious when they had done the wrong thing) and focused instead of the much more pressing concern: finding his trunk. Walking towards the third door, Harry ignored whatever stupid words were now coming out of Draco's mouth and opened the door, partially closing it behind him as he stepped inside.

As soon as he entered the semi-darkness of the space behind the door, Harry realised three things:

He'd made a terrible mistake

The sorting hat had been maliciously correct

The third door was the door to a cupboard

He uttered a strangled moan and tried to silently edge towards either his trunk or the exit. Unfortunately, there was a trunk right in front of him and Harry tripped and fell with a large thunk. Whether or not this was the catalyst for the revelation of Harry's whereabouts, or if the cupboard merely used it as a conversation starter, Harry would to this day never know.
'Still falling head-over-heels for me I see.' The cupboard began, voice low and rough in what Harry assumed was an attempt at being husky, 'Boris did say I'd be seeing you around. Gosh, you've got to love that mangy old hat; he sure knows how to keep a cupboard happy.' The cupboard laughed, it was a high-pitched, strangely disturbing noise which Harry found did not suit his perception of the cupboard at all. As a matter of fact, he found it very disturbing.
'L-leave me alone Manfred!' Harry said, none-too-convincingly. The cupboard preened.
'Oooh, you know my name sexy! I'm flattered; I assume Boris gave it to you. It'll give you something to scream while I'm rocking your world baby!'

This was all too much for Harry, once again. He squeaked in shocked disgust and bolted, forgetting the door was partially closed. He hit the heavy oak door at full-speed and crashed to the ground unconscious almost at once.
'Ah, what fools love makes us.' The cupboard said with a wistful sigh. Luckily Harry was unconscious, and therefore unable to hear the latest update on his relationship status.

Harry awoke several hours later (or so it seemed, he had in fact, only been unconscious for thirty-two seconds), to the gentle feeling of a wash cloth across his head.
'Mmmm,' was all the speech he was able to manage as the washcloth was pressed slowly to his forehead, 'vats good,' Harry managed to drawl before struggling to open his eyes.
'Goyle, put that bloody wash cloth down,' snapped Draco's voice and Harry, forgetting his concussion, sat bolt upright.
'Goyle. What?!' The boy in question smirked stupidly, waving the wash cloth in the air. Harry shuddered, the action causing memories of his earlier altercation to coming crashing back down on him, 'IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE!' Harry shrieked suddenly, causing Draco, Goyle, Blaise and Theo (Crabbe was conspicuously absent) to jump back in alarm.
'What, what's here?' Draco asked, a look of alarm spreading across his aristocratic features.
'The cupboard!' Harry cried despondently, not understanding when all four boys burst out laughing.
'Oh golly, Potter's scared of a cupboard,' Blaise jeered, a smirk spreading across his dark face.
'Golly?' Draco intervened quite suddenly, previous joke forgotten. Blaise blushed.
'I didn't say golly... I said... jolly... you know, 'oh jolly' I was being SARCASTIC!' Even Harry joined in the laughter this time, though the bespeckled boy in question was still shaking slightly at the memory of the cupboard.

Once they'd calmed down some more Draco turned to Harry, an eyebrow raised quizzically and Harry was quite sure that Draco's social retardation was about to rear its ugly head. He was right.
'So, why are you scared of cupboards?' Harry was silent- pondering how to explain it in a way in which Draco's social retardation would not hinder his understanding.
'Well. I guess it's because the cupboard sexually harasses me and I think that if I was ever to stay in there too long, it would violate me.' Silence greeted his words. Blaise looked startled, Goyle blinked and Draco's face was scrunched up in thought as he tried to figure out what Harry meant by 'violate'. 'Have sex with me, Draco.' Harry said by way of explanation, but Draco, who we have by this stage established as being a bit 'different', thought Harry was propositioning him and turned pale green in shock.
'Wh-what?' Draco's eyeballs bulged as he stared at Blaise and Goyle, as if looking for reaffirmation that what he'd just heard was for real.
'Yes Draco, Harry wants to have sex with you,' Blaise deadpanned, so obviously that even Goyle managed to understand what was going on. Once again, Draco proved his immense LACK of social skills and completely missed the sarcasm which accompanied Blaise's statement.

'Harry... look, I know I might have given you the wrong idea last night. But I'm an eleven year old boy. I'm not even thinking about those kinds of things; let alone what my sexual preference is.' To say that Draco was surprised when the whole room erupted into laughter would be an understatement. To say that it took him a little while to figure out he'd totally misunderstood the whole situation would be an even bigger understatement. By the time Harry had convinced Goyle to bring his trunk outside and he'd gotten changed, and the five boys (we must remember that Theo was also there as well) had made it down to breakfast, a scowl had broken out on Draco's face and he was trying not to blush.

Breakfast was a subdued affair next to the 'excitement' of that morning. Draco was sulking- glowering at anyone who so much as asked him to pass the butter. Harry was still in shock after his morning altercation (a terrible way to start the day if you asked him), Blaise sat there sniggering, Goyle was still fingering the wash cloth he'd used to wake Harry up, Theo was, well- Theo and Crabbe was still AWOL. The only notable happening was the arrival of their timetables.
'Double Potions with Gryffindors?' Draco was jolted out of his sulk by this clearly amusing piece of news.
'Eh?' was Harry's response, and Draco hastened to fill him in.
'Snape hates Gryffindors. Everyone knows this. He'll favour us and deduct millions of points from them, it'll be GREAT!' Harry stared at Draco, unsure how to react. This had surpassed even his own levels of social retardation.
'So let me get this straight,' Harry said slowly, maintaining eye contact with Draco. (You must always reaffirm that YOU are talking to THEM.) 'You want the entirety of Gryffindor House to hate you?' Draco nodded happily, as if this fact should have been obvious. Harry stared, coughed lightly and turned back to his breakfast.
'But Harry, Slytherins and Gryffindors ALWAYS hate each other. It's tradition.' Harry, not sure he was particularly enjoying the particular vein this conversation was following, decided to abandon it before things got too weird. Luckily, Harry Potter always had a way to get out of awkward conversations. Some might call it a gift, but Harry preferred to call it pure skill.

'BLAISE!' he cried loudly, and the boy in question looked up at him, a slightly apprehensive look marring his otherwise saccharine features. Harry grinned broadly, and Blaise felt the four Danish pastries he'd just eaten sink a little lower in his gut.
'Yes?' he finally responded after Harry had stared at him for a good four minutes- maniacal grin still firmly in place.
'Oh Blaise,' Harry sighed, eyes glazing over, a wistful look skating across his face.
'Oh shit.'
'Oh BL-aise.'
'No Harry.'
'Blaaaaaaaaaaaise.'
'Ok seriously Harry, what the HELL.'
'Bla-a-a-a-aise.'
'You are such an idiot.' Harry chose to ruin this riveting conversation by bursting into tears. The whole of Slytherin table stared; Draco included (his previous conversation having been forgotten). Blaise looked uncomfortable, and as usual completely unsure of how to handle Harry.
'Blaise, why must you scorn me so,' Harry sobbed between tears. His glasses had fogged up and so he looked like he had some strange milky eye disease. 'I was going to make you my queen. We were going to ride in a limousine.'

Now, if Harry had stopped speaking after the first sentence, thing might have been alright. Blaise was pretty easy-going as far as things went and most probably would have just apologised and gone back to eating his fifth Danish pastry. But Harry had said the one thing that every eleven year old boy hates. He had called Blaise a queen- and in doing so insinuated that he was a girl. Blaise saw red. This could be because he was staring at the Gryffindor banner. Whatever the reason, it fuelled his anger. (No wonder Gryffindors are so bloody volatile- they should be surrounded by SOOTHING colours.)
'Harry. You've crossed the line.' Harry had no time to wonder what Blaise meant with that cryptic phrase, because the boy in question had leapt from his seat and crash-tackled Harry to the ground.

A potentially brutal scene was averted with the arrival of Crabbe.
'Where have you been?!' Draco demanded of his faithful lackey as Crabbe grabbed Blaise by the scruff of his neck and peered at him intently.
'You were in my dream,' Crabbe said softly, ignoring Draco in favour of staring at Blaise obsessively. Blaise shivered and tried not to notice that the hand Crabbe had grabbed him with was now caressing his neck.
'Ok seriously dude, what the hell are you doing?' Blaise demanded, and Crabbe hurriedly withdrew his hand.
'You're just so...beautiful...' Crabbe whispered, and awed note evident in his soft tones. At this, Harry couldn't hold it in any longer; he exploded into laughter, shortly followed by most of the Great Hall, who had gathered around once the fight had broken out. Blaise flushed bright red, wrenched himself out of Crabbe's grip, boxed Harry in the face and sprinted from the hall. Harry watched him go, still laughing despite the blood steadily dripping from his nose.
'Harry.' Draco was scowling heavily, Harry, for the life of him, couldn't figure out why, 'we're going to the hospital wing.' Without waiting for an answer, Draco pulled Harry towards the door.

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Draco and Harry were five minutes late to potions.
'What a way to start of our first ever class, aye Drake?' Harry commented airily, grinning at the pale-faced blonde beside him.
'What did you just call me?' Draco asked, eyes narrowed.
'Drake!' Harry said with a grin, skipping into the classroom.

Snape scowled as Harry and Draco slipped into his classroom- LATE. He'd been afraid something like this would happen, though it was disheartening that it had occurred so soon. When Harry Bloody Potter had been sorted into Slytherin house, Snape had forgotten to swallow his water. Professor Sinastra had had to perform mouth-to-mouth on him and it had been most embarrassing. Luckily, Snape had fallen off his chair BEHIND the staff table, so only Professor Flitwick had really seen what was going on. All jokes (and chokes) aside: Harry Potter, son of total arch-nemesis was totally in his house. Now, Snape fully wasn't a valley girl or anything, but even he knew this was totally out of logical jurisdiction.

In case you are confused by Snape's moral/ethical/mental/metaphysical dilemma allow me- your for the most part omnipresent narrator- remind you that Snape, as head of Slytherin house is expected to protect and assist his valuable little serpents. This in mind, Snape's current issue lay in how best to treat the Potter in question. Yes, he hated him, but yes, he was a Slytherin and as such Snape had a duty of care not to treat the boy like shit. Look, there was no doubt, Snape was in a pickle. Should he abuse Potter? Perhaps deduct some points, time was running out- already Harry was halfway across the room. Snape couldn't resist any longer, he had to speak.
'Potter, Malfoy, so kind of you to join us.'

The two boys froze in their tracks, both turning to look at Snape. Draco's face wore a priceless look of shock, while Harry was infuriatingly smiling.
'Sorry Professor S- just had to pop to the hospital wing.' Harry offered another smile, this one obviously in parody of an apologetic look, before pulling Draco over to a table. If Snape hadn't been nearly apocalyptic with rage, he may have noticed the murderous looks a pair of Indian twins gave Harry, or the way a wranga at the front was quite aggressively shaking his fist. Even Hermione had one eyebrow raised, though they may have been due to Harry patting her on the head as he walked past.

Had he noticed this, Snape may have reached the conclusion that a number of people appeared not to like Harry Potter at present. This would probably have done nothing to remove murderous feelings destroying Snape like Hurricane Katrina and New Orleans. Professor S?! What the HELL. No one in the Snape's teaching experience had EVER called him Professor S. Snape was so angry that he strode right up to the board and started writing on it, clean forgetting all about his intimidating speech and very difficult random questioning. Of course, when he did remember to do this, it was far too late for it to have any effect. This only made him more angry. All in all, not a good day for Severus Snape.

Meanwhile, Harry had been cheerfully aware of the Patil twins glares and Ron's gansta fist-waving. He'd blown them all kisses and sat down at a table with Draco and two girls, giving Hermione a friendly head pat on the way past – she was just like a friendly golden retriever.
'Aloha!' Harry said to the two girls.
'Hi Harry,' they chorused. Harry looked expectantly at Draco before remembering he was socially retarded and deciding he'd have to take matters into his own hands.
'Sorry, Draco's socially retarded and so is obviously not going to introduce you two. I spose you both know I'm Harry Potter.' The girls laughed, and Draco scowled.
'I'm Daphne Greengrass,' said a pretty blonde one, 'and this is Tracey Davis,' she added- pointing a finger and the dimpled brunette on her right.
'Cool! Dimples!' Harry said excitedly, poking Tracey's cheek. Both girls looked surprised, but recovered quickly, giggling nervously. Draco chose this moment to intervene,
'Don't mind Harry, he lived in a cupboard his whole life- doesn't know how to interact with people.' He shot Harry a superior look. Harry did not notice it.

At the mention of the word cupboard, Harry had gone white. The events of the morning were replaying themselves through his head on some sort of endless loop. Snape, who had been hovering bat-like in the shadows, seized on this apparent phobia, swooping down on the group abruptly.
'Your talking has put you all behind. Potter, go to the supply cupboard and fetch the ingredients' for the potion.' When Harry looked about to argue, Snape smiled nastily, 'that isn't a question Potter- it's an order.' Pain face in place, Harry got up and stalked off to the other end of the room.

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit. Cupboards. Bad. Scary. Monosyllabic thoughts. This was a brief synopsis of Harry's thoughts as he made his way towards to supply cupboard. Luckily this potion was simple and all they needed was Beetles eyes, Aconite and some Boomslang skin. Surely he could sneak in, grab the ingredients and then get the hell out. The cupboard door loomed ahead and Harry's palms began to sweat. He opened the door and stepped inside, glancing around at the dingy interior. First year ingredients were always nearest the door and Harry had successfully snagged the Aconite and Beetles eyes before it happened.
'If you're looking for Boomslang skin, you're going to have to penetrate... deeper,' moaned a familiar voice, and Harry, despite having expected something of the sort jumped and almost dropped his Aconite.

Trying to ignore the voice, Harry walked further into the cupboard, spying the Boomslang skin sitting on a shelf.
'Oh yeah. Touch it.' Harry jumped and squawked loudly. 'Ah! So THAT'S your sex noise?!' The cupboard exclaimed in pleasure before braying like a donkey. 'That's MY one baby, up for it?'Harry screamed in pure terror, grabbed a handful of Boomslang skin and bolted, pausing only to make sure the door was open before sprinting back into the classroom.

He arrived in a mix of sweat and pure terror, to the combined amusement of Draco, Daphne and Tracey.
'Something the matter Harry?' Daphne inquired politely, her amused smirk somewhat ruining her concern.
'Just a cupboard that wants to shag me,' Harry panted, dumping the ingredients on the table and taking his seat. Daphne and Tracey stared. Draco, who had heard it all before simply scowled before muttering,
'Is this where you ask someone to have sex with you?' Harry laughed, feeling much better now the cupboard was safely over the other side of the room. Daphne was tugging at his sleeve, demanding a better explanation, while Tracey looked intrigued. Shrugging his shoulders, Harry looked around for Snape and, finding him somewhat occupied with a pale-faced boy who seemed to have melted his cauldron, settled back into his chair.
'Alright, I'll tell you. But it's kind of a long story. It all started the day before my eleventh birthday...'

A/N: Well there's that chapter out. It's a nice long one- but golly gosh it was hard to write. On the plus side- I only have one more exam left, which makes me happy!!!! Please review, I do so love them. And I need some ideas for chapters. Imagine a slightly insane Harry – not totally insane, so no using dairy products as communication devices, but slightly insane. Now tell me what you think he'd do at Hogwarts! If it's superbly on topic, then I'll definitely use AND CREDIT your brilliance. If not, then we'll both just have a good laugh!