Disclaimer: Nope, ownership of Harry Potter hasn't changed since the last time I posted. Still don't own it, probably never will. (But I hope.)

In Harry's opinion, the next day couldn't have passed any more slowly. Each class seemed twice as long – even Charms, which usually excited Harry, couldn't stop his constant fidgeting – and Harry barely registered anything his professors had said. Weasley made things even more unbearable, what with his smug looks and cocky air. With each verbal jab that Weasley and his two tag-alongs sent his way in between classes, Harry was growing more irritable. Maybe I shouldn't stop Draco from hexing them the next time.

The odd looks that Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom and even Percy Weasley threw at him during breakfast and lunch, when they thought he wasn't looking, made him squirm. Draco's scrutiny and the indecipherable look in Blaise's eyes didn't help any, either. By the time dinner arrived, and several of his housemates had still not ceased their staring, Harry was more than ready to retire to his dorm and never show his face again. Harry voiced his thoughts to the two boys tucking in across from him.

Draco snorted and Blaise smirked.

"Well, seeing as you're Harry Potter…"

"You'll be living with it your whole life." Draco said, completing Blaise's sentence.

Harry rolled his eyes in a mix of exasperation and disgust.

"But why? Doesn't anyone realise that I was one year old; and I didn't actually choose to be an orphan?" Harry expressed bitterly.

"But they aren't looking at that, Harry," Draco said in reply, his gaze changing into something akin to sympathy. "People aren't looking at a boy who lived, they're looking at the Boy-Who-Lived. You're the hope of our world; their saviour. And to them, that's who you are."

Harry stared at Draco, his dinner half-forgotten.

"To them, you're not the boy who had to learn about all this from books and couldn't tie his tie correctly for an entire week, or who let a dog slobber all over his robes, or the boy who was worried about flying. You see, Harry, you're always going to be seen as Harry Potter, and, I guess…it's not something you can escape from."

Harry fiddled with his cutlery, contemplative. Now that he really thought about it, Harry had to acknowledge the truth behind Draco's words. But since when was Draco so…wise?

"Slytherin's shoulders, Malfoy! When the hell did you become a Ravenclaw?"

Blaise, who had unknowingly echoed Harry's thought, grinned at Draco's spluttering.

"But just so you know, Harry, to me, you'll always be the git who threw a slice of toast at my face," Draco said, catching Harry's eye, after sending a half-hearted glare at Blaise.

A warmth fluttered through Harry at hearing that, and his smile reached his eyes. "Yeah… you're never going to forget that, are you?"

"Forget? What do you mean, 'forget'? What's there to forget?"

Harry rolled his eyes – playfully this time – and flicked a stray crumb of food at Draco, who feigned offence and dusted off his robes as if it had come into contact with a flubberworm.

"Oh, thank you, Harry. That's another thing I'll never forget."

Laughing, Harry replied. "Stop, Draco. I still have to go see Snape, remember?"

Draco sat up straighter, setting down his fork and knife. "There's something you're not telling me, Harry. You didn't answer anything I asked you yesterday, and you shouldn't even have to go back there in the first place, since Weasley obviously doesn't have to. Does he?"

"You're not in trouble, are you?" Blaise added, trying to fish for more information.

Harry avoided the boys' eyes. "No… I'm not in trouble, and no, Weasley doesn't have to. It's just… well… Snape has some stuff he wants to talk to me about."

Draco leaned back and crossed his arms, his face the epitome of scepticism. "If you say so."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled as he flicked his eyes towards the slice of pork on his plate and speared it. "Well… we'd better finish. Dinner's almost over."

…

Fifteen minutes later, the Great hall slowly emptied, and the Slytherins, full from the sumptuous evening meal, trickled back down the stairs to the dungeons.

"Coming, Blaise?" Draco asked, both he and Harry pausing just past the entrance to the common room.

Blaise shook his head and waved them on, hanging back to chat with Theo.

"Later, then," Harry called, and walked further down the corridor, Draco alongside him.

As the chatter of the students faded away behind them and the omnipresent chill of the dungeons grew even more pronounced, Draco spoke.

"You do know that you can tell me anything, right?"

Harry slowed, rubbing his sleeves. "I know."

And they fell back into silence.

Pretending not to notice Draco's searching gaze on him, Harry continued on, warring thoughts rampaging through his head. I told Snape I wouldn't tell anyone… even Draco. But… it's Draco. If Draco can't know… then why can Snape know? But… I'm not meant to tell… He would've trekked right past the portrait – the very same one that had him back here – if not for the light tap on his shoulder.

"Dreaming about me, Potter?" Draco snickered, eyes glinting with mischief, unaware of how close he was to the truth. He turned his head in the direction of the door, just missing the spark of alarm in Harry's eyes.

"Nice snake," he commented, and reached out a finger, intent on stroking the reptile (mere painting though it may be).

– and the door swung open.

Draco almost tripped over his feet in his haste to step back.

"S-sir."

"Mr Malfoy. Potter's personal escort, are you?" The professor drawled, towering over the boys.

"Yes, sir. I mean – no. I mean–"

Harry interrupted, relieving Draco of the flustered answers he had been stuttering out. "Evening, Professor Snape."

Draco shot Harry a look of gratitude – even he found the man intimidating, more so than his own father – and if Harry was not mistaken, he thought he saw the corners of Snape's lip twitch at the action.

"Evening, Mr Potter," Snape echoed, in a vastly different tone, drawing out each word. "I was under the impression that there is no present danger to your person."

"Yeah? That's right, isn't it?

"I am rarely wrong, Mr Potter. Therefore, is Mr Malfoy's role not redundant?" Snape raised a sardonic brow, eyeing Harry expectantly.

"Oh – no, sir. Harry didn't ask me–"

Snape held up a hand, stalling Draco's explanation, and stepped away from the doorjamb.

"I do not care to understand your motivations, Mr Malfoy," He jerked his head at the door. "In, Potter. And Mr Malfoy, if you are indeed so needlessly concerned as to your friend's safety, you may return in an hour."

Draco nodded, just a little bit reluctantly, thinking that his concern wasn't unnecessary. "Alright, sir. Thank you. See you later, Harry."

Draco waved and headed back in the direction of the common room, not in any particular hurry, while Snape entered his office behind Harry, casting a Muffliato on the door behind him.

…

Harry swept his eyes around the room, spying the exact same conditions – except for the larger stack of student's assignments and a bookmarked tome lying beside them on the professor's desk – as his previous visit.

"You have done as I instructed, I believe."

Harry stopped his observation of the room upon hearing the voice behind him. He spun around to face the professor, relieved that he had not given in to the temptation to tell Draco – not yet, anyway. Brushing his fringe away from his eyes, he answered, truthfully.

"Yes, sir, I have."

Snape returned it with a curt nod and stalked to the desk, taking his seat and gesturing for Harry to do the same. Snape thought back to the previous day – Albus had not been particularly surprised, nor concerned, but Snape was, and he would keep an eye on the boy either way. Harry sat in silence, eyes drawn to Snape's perfectly steepled fingers, as the man rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and leaned forward to survey Harry. Snape stared down the bridge of his nose at Harry, before, after a minute or so of squirming and eye-avoiding on Harry's part, Snape finally broke the silence.

"Where were we, Potter? Before we were so rudely interrupted?"

Harry flushed a bright red, but knowing that he could not dodge the question – for Snape was not one to be kept waiting for a response – he answered.

"It – it was – you were talking about Vol – I mean, You-Know-Who," Harry quickly corrected, remembering his idiotic outburst and the professor's overly strong grip from the day before. "How we're the same… and… sir, it's just Harry, not Potter." Harry mumbled, looking anywhere but at Snape, and so, failed to spot that weird, mysterious look in Snape's eyes.

"Do you truly believe so," Snape enquired, then hesitated. "Potter? About yourself and the Dark Lord being 'the same', as you put it."

Harry looked through his eyelashes at Snape. Now that I think about it… "Sort of, I guess…"

"Explain, Potter, how you have come to that conclusion."

"We're both Parselmouths… you said. And – and he was Slytherin."

"That does not constitute being 'the same'. By your reasoning, in the improbable event of Mr Malfoy showing the ability to speak Parseltongue, it will allude to you and him being 'the same'. Such a simplistic, Gryffindor mentality will do you no good in Slytherin. Keep that in mind, Potter."

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor," Harry finally muttered, recognising the error in his thinking.

"What was that, Potter?"

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor."

"I cannot say that I am surprised."

Harry jerked his head up to look his professor full in the eye.

"Although, I do wonder, why you chose as you did. I had expected… a different outcome."

Harry smiled thinly, the answer on his lips. He knew why he had chosen Slytherin, and he could say that he had made the right choice.

"Because of Draco, sir. I wanted to be with him. And… I didn't think I would've fit in anywhere else."

Snape leaned back, clasping his hands on the table. His eyes were fixed on Harry, and it seemed as if he was searching for something. Then –

"I… had misjudged you."

Harry, sitting as still as his professor had been, saw the wince – an actual wince – that accompanied Snape's remark. He had to hide his amusement (it wasn't hard, really, with all those years with Dudley as practice), not wanting to jeopardise his current standing with the man.

"I apologise."

Another wince.

Harry could've rolled his eyes. Was it honestly that hard? But it meant a lot to Harry; he could not recall a time when an adult had apologised to him (if one ever had), even for holding erroneous perceptions of him, as most adults in his Muggle life did.

"There's no need to apologise, sir. You're not the first."

"Not the first?"

Harry didn't realise how his casual statement could reveal details he'd much rather forget until it was pointed out to him, but the 'the-truth-or-else' look on Snape's face dissuaded him from passing it off as nothing.

"The Dursleys told everyone I'd be going to St. Brutus'. And everyone believed them."

At Snape's look of confusion, Harry elaborated. "St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"Ah."

"It wasn't actually that surprising, considering what else they believed, without even looking at me," Harry said, hurt in his voice.

"I see," Snape breathed, staring into the startling green eyes – Lily's eyes – that held too much for one so young.

Snape evaluated Harry in silence for a moment, processing the rather unexpected information he had gleaned from the boy. Never had he imagined Potter to be quite so unlike his father… what more living a life other than one of luxury, if Potter was to be believed. He didn't want to accept it as truth, for that would mean he was even more mistaken than he was prepared to admit. (But his instincts screamed of Potter's honesty, and he was not one to disregard his instincts. And those eyes – Lily's eyes –

"But I'm fine here, sir. I've never been better, and Hogwarts is… well, a home. It's wonderful."

Snape was drawn out of his reminiscing by the pure joy in Harry's voice.

"But sir... when you said… was I – am I actually meant for Gryffindor?"

Snape frowned. Damn wizards. Nothing is ever simply black and white. "I am sure you are aware of Slytherin's reputation, Potter, and that someone such as you would never have been expected to be sorted here. It was a shock, to say the least, when the Hat made its decision, and so narrow this world is in their beliefs, that it is not something easily forgotten, or accepted. But the Hat has its reasons, Potter. I may not be privy to them, but I do not doubt that it placed you where you belong."

Harry beamed. No matter if Snape could've said it in much fewer words. Harry had heard what he needed to hear. "Thank you, Professor."

Snape returned it with a nod, an unexpected feeling of satisfaction at making Lily's son smile gripping his heart. Then, annoyance flared as his holstered wand heated in his sleeve, alerting him to the presence outside his office. Malfoys always have to have it their way, don't they? Like father, like son. Unconsciously making the exact same assumption as he had with the Potters (an assumption he should've learned not to make, really), he rose, rolling his eyes.

"It seems that Mr Malfoy has not learnt the art of patience. Nor does he appear to be able to follow explicit instructions." Snape sneered, at the questioning look from Harry.

Harry bristled at the scorn aimed at his best friend. "Draco's a good friend, sir. He's done a lot. And he's probably just worried, that's all."

"Believe what you wish, Potter," Snape replied, still not willing to believe that Draco Malfoy only harboured good intentions. After all, the elder Malfoy was not one to be trusted, and he had had inside knowledge. "Just stay alert. And if you wish to come to me… tell Mr Srinivas – the snake charmer – so."

And with that, Snape stalked to the door, throwing it open.

"I believe I said an hour, Mr Malfoy."

Draco jumped at the sudden appearance of the Professor.

"Professor Snape!"

"Obviously."

"I – I didn't think that – I couldn't just wait there while – " Draco made a vague gesture with his hand. "You never seemed to have an interest in Harry, before."

"What I take an interest in is no problem of yours, Mr Malfoy. And if you believe I have harmed – " Snape sneered " – your dear friend in any way, you may ask him yourself."

Snape turned to Harry, who had not moved from his seat but was frowning at the professor's change in attitude, and jerked his head at the door. He rolled his eyes again at Draco's sweeping scan of Harry, and as the boys took their leave –

"You may find that reading Chapter Nine of your textbooks will benefit you in the next lesson."

The boys paused and turned around, eyes widening, but the professor had already disappeared from view. Snape would give them that advice? But advice was advice, and they would make full use of it.

…

"Well, that was weird."

"It was."

"So, what did you talk about?"

Harry smirked. Draco wouldn't believe it. "He apologised to me."

"What?!"

A/N: That was great fun to write, although it took a while (but I was on holiday, so...), and I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it! Reviews, follows and favourites are always appreciated! Until next time :)