Authors' note – This fic has been made for entertainment purposes only, and the authors, yes both of them, are not making any profit in any way. All characters (with exception to any original ones spawned of our own twisted imaginations) and the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K.Rowling. Not us, unfortunately.

  This fic is dedicated to ourselves and each other. We know who we are, you just enjoy the fic!

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Shedding Skins – Chapter Three

Nature's Inherent Betrayal, Fate's Sadistic Desire

Harry walked to potions feeling vaguely dissatisfied. With what, he did not know. He was in an irritable mood, and knowing that a double potions was on its way was doing nothing to alleviate his rapidly worsening bad mood.

As Ron and Hermione argued about something which Harry hadn't quite caught the gist of, angry grey clouds swirled threateningly over-head.

As Harry turned the corner, he walked straight into the gaze of none other than Draco Malfoy, who was leaning suavely against the dungeon wall, eyes cool and face as stony as the wall he leant against.

'Why, why, if it isn't the mighty Potter and his loyal entourage,' Draco drawled slowly, venom lacing his every word.

'If I'm so mighty, Malfoy, why don't you show some respect?' Harry retaliated, with the beginning traces of anger darkening his voice.

'Make me.' Draco shot back with hatred in his voice, as the surrounding Slytherins started grouping around him, snickering appreciatively at his latest attack on the infamous Harry Potter.

'What's your problem now Malfoy?' Ron yelled, wishing that Malfoy would give him just one good reason to wipe that smirk off his ugly Slytherin face. And as far as Ron was concerned, when it came to Malfoy, reasons came in every form.

'I'm not the one with problems Weasly,' Draco said, snickering as the red-head's face started flaming the same colour as his hair.

'Leave it Ron,' Harry said calmly, 'Malfoy's not worth your time'.

If possible, Draco's eyes darkened ever further, contrasting sharply against his pale flesh.

'On the contrary, Potter. That weasel is hardly worth my time.'

Without waiting to see the effect of this cutting remark, Draco strolled casually into the Potions classroom, leaving behind him the still snickering Slytherins, and Ron, who, nearly epileptic with rage was being restrained by Hermione.

'You know he always provokes us before Potions in the hope Snape will walk in Ron! I mean, honestly, you just have to learn to ignore him and he won't find it so satisfying anymore. Really!' she exclaimed in exasperation.

'I'm gonna pound that arrogance out of Malfoy someday' Ron muttered angrily shaking his fist at thin air, not hearing a word Hermione was saying.

Harry sighed, shaking his head. The day was just getting better and better.

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Draco sat alone at the front of the Potions classroom, fuming. Such black hostility radiated off him that even Crabbe and Goyle had found the good sense to sit somewhere else. Draco was furious at himself for his weakness the previous night. And of all people to find him in that state, it had to be… Potter.

Draco had always prided himself, among many other things, on his unshakable hold on his smooth demeanour.

Now, beyond furious at himself for losing his grasp on his emotions the night before, he felt like smashing his fist into the stone wall beside him. Maybe the sudden bone-splitting pain would make him regain his control.

Draco didn't lose control often, but when he did, it was truly a sight to see.

When Draco Malfoy got angry, the powers that be cringed, and all mortals fled.

Draco threw an icy glare in Potter's direction. Harry, his gaze drawn to Draco's seemingly through the mere power of Draco's hostility, gazed calmly back at him, his eyes settling rather disconcertingly deep inside Draco's own.

Potter seemed to fail to understand his expected fleeing role.

With no shift in expression, Harry lowered his gaze back onto his scroll in front of him, as if Draco wasn't even worth the effort of looking at.

So now Potter thought he knew where to find him.

That was not the case. That… weakness, was nothing more than a momentary slip-up. He had simply, lost control… thinking that no-one would ever think to go looking for him there, in the highest room in the astronomy tower, for that short while, Draco had lost

himself.

He had just been so weary, so tired of maintaining this constant façade. If anyone ever saw what really went on inside him, they would despise him in an instant.

Draco couldn't stand to be looked down upon by those pathetic creatures that surrounded him.

Even if he had nothing else, but his false pride, at least he could hold his superiority over these weaklings.

It is them who are despicable, Draco thought to himself. They will never understand what true power is. They will never know the sacrifices he had made to survive.

He almost wished they did, just so once, he could get the sort of subservient respect he deserved.

He refused to be weak. It was in opposition to every lesson that he had suffered since a child, at the hands of his father. Weakness, was never acceptable in a Malfoy.

He would sooner die than let it control him.

As he had attempted to last night, before Potter had barged in, wrecking his plans…

Draco suddenly realized that during his dark musings, he had been unconsciously stroking the deep gashes on his wrists. His finger-tip was stained deep red from the dried-up blood which had caked over the recent wounds. At Potters intrusion, Draco had been forced to quickly mutter a congealment charm.

Desperate though he had been, Draco refused to die painfully on the ground at the feet of his most hated enemy.

Feeling more centred then he had in days, Draco realised that if he didn't want to try Snape's leniency with him, he should make some pretence of copying down the notes the potions master was dictating.

Well once again, against the odds he was still alive. And he had that 'blessing' to thank for of none other than, Potter…

He glared over in the direction of his foe, feeling stronger inside than he had in months.

Now, to get his antique dagger back off Potter.

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The day was finally coming to an end.

Potions, to its credit was actually tolerable, maybe even enjoyable, regardless of having to choke down a double dose of the subject.

Snape was too busy being silently concerned for his star pupil; the object of that concern was too self-contained to even throw a single snide remark anyone's way and that meant for a hassle free class, for once.

Harry however couldn't enjoy it for what it was.

Considering it was probably he who had inspired such a dark mood in Draco, he would most likely be dealing with that mood and an exceptionally vindictive Mr Malfoy when he had sorted himself out.

I should be used to this, thought Harry. Such constant misfortune, ever since he could remember.

'Hey Ron.'

'What is it, Harry?' Ron inquired, turning slightly as they were making their way to the Gryffindor dorms.

'Sorry I've been, well, the way I have been today.'

Ron smiled, 'No problem, pal.' All the while, patting Harry roughly on the back, to accentuate his point.

'Thanks, Ron. I don't know what I'd do without you guys sometimes.'

'Only sometimes?' Ron replied grinning. And with that they parted ways; Harry to bed and Ron to beg for History of Magic notes off Hermione.

Staring at the slightly illuminated ceiling, surrounded by his four poster bed, thoughts of his friends seeped across his ebbing consciousness.

A small smile played its way over Harry's face, releasing him of his high tension. Seriously, thank you guys…

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Morning came as it always did, before you can get enough sleep and way before nightfall.

Today would be the day Draco got what was rightfully his; determinedly he slid out of bed and systematically dressed himself.

As he sauntered about doing his morning routine he felt more agile, more alert, he finally felt composed.

It would take more than a day to break Draco Malfoy and he wouldn't give it more than that, a day was enough.

Victoriously he smirked into his reflection, yes, today he would finally get his knife back and more importantly- he would be in the clear. Then there'd be no chance of Harry Potter bringing him down, not until the next unfortunate coincidence, which was always bound to happen.

But until then…

As Harry made his way to the Great Hall, delicious aromas wafted out of the double doors to greet him and Ron and Hermione, in tow behind him.

Night had fallen quickly over the castle, the dark threatening clouds of the previous day having faded away to a clear deep night sky.

As they sat down for dinner, Harry caught a glimpse of a head of silvery blond hair. Unconsciously he clenched at the item hidden inside his robes, strangely triumphant that the dagger was still in his possession.

Despite Malfoy's incessant bullying all day long; hinting at the lack of return of a certain object that belonged to him, Harry had not relinquished even the slightest clue that he had the dagger on him.

Silent, unknown mockery, if only Draco knew.

He'd probably challenge Harry to a duel on the spot if he found out, in an attempt to remove it from his unconscious, hex-ridden form.

Disregarding the icy stares Harry knew so well, boring into the back of his head, dinner was actually proving to be quite an enjoyable affair.

Just then, interrupting the interesting conversation that the Weasley twins were having with Ron, about Lee Jordan's recently inspired ideas for inter-species quidditch, Dumbledore stood up, gesturing for the students' attention.

'Students, if I may address you for a moment…'

A pause revealing a still silence, as everyone's attention focused, even the twins'.    'Sorry for interrupting such a scrumptious meal, but this is quite urgent.

For private matters which are not, and should not, be under the scrutiny of the rest of the student body- though no doubt they will be soon enough - could Harry Potter, come to my quarters as soon as he is finished here.

Now please, resume your meal.'

'What's that about Harry?' Ron asked curiously.

'I dunno' Harry replied honestly, feeling uncomfortable under all of those enquiring stares.

'Maybe it's about You-Know-Who!' Ron exclaimed enthusiastically.

'Maybe it's about the poor standard of your homework,' Hermione said pointedly.

'How can it be poor? We always copy of you Hermione!' blurted Ron.

'Good one Ron.

Well, I'm finished here. Guess I'll go see what Dumbledore wants. And Ron, shut up about the homework! It's hard enough to get her homework as it is.'

Harry made his way quickly to Dumbledore's office, if not only to escape Hermione's building wrath.

Poor Ron, he thought, shaking his head.

Drawing level with the crumbling stone gargoyle that marked the hidden entrance to Dumbledore's office and quarters, Harry suddenly realized that he didn't know the current password.

As soon as the thought pushed itself into Harry mind, the door opened and Dumbledore himself stood at the entrance. With a swift gesture he turned and motioned for Harry to follow him.

'So Harry, any idea why I have summoned you here this evening?'

'Um… no sir... I don't,' stated Harry, sincerely baffled.

And as to why his mentor always asked what he already knew, was beyond him.

Harry ought to become more perceptive just from these chance meetings alone.

'Well, not surprising really, my boy,' beamed Dumbledore, eyes twinkling, 'I'm quite baffled myself.'

This only served to confuse Harry further.

If Dumbledore himself didn't know why he was here, then why had he specifically asked Harry to come see him?

Dumbledore, reading the confusion on Harry's face, smiled briefly at him, and with a sweeping gesture, indicated for Harry to follow him inside and to sit.

'Well Harry, something has come across my attention which I admit, I am rather surprised I wasn't aware of sooner.'

A slight pause and he pressed on. 'It is a very rare situation you have been placed in, Harry. You see, to be direct, you need to be re-sorted.'

'WHAT!' Harry exclaimed jumping to his feet.

'But Sir! Why? I mean, I'm in Gryffindor…'

'Harry' said Dumbledore, looking at him very earnestly, 'you must let the Sorting Hat determine your true house. And to be frank with you, I suspect, well… I suspect the Sorting Hat was, meddled with in your first year.'

'But…' Harry stammered, still trying to comprehend this rather unexpected direction his evening had taken, 'who would want to do that?'

'Someone who wanted very much to keep you out of their house, I would suspect,' Dumbledore replied seriously.

'There's only one way to find out for sure Harry. You must be re-sorted. Please, return to your seat.'

Harry sat down in mute shock as Dumbledore strode briskly across the room, picking up the familiar and worn Sorting Hat.

A deluge of confused thoughts rushed through Harry's mind.

Why?

Why is this happening now?

It's been four years, and a lot has changed, but I've done so much!

I've even faced Voldemort.

I am a Gryffindor.

I've proved that over and over again… Haven't I?

That's where I belong, with my friends. With Ron, and Hermione.

But where else could I go?

It just doesn't make sense.

There's no other option than Gryffindor… Yes, I'm certain of it.

Even though I'm being re-sorted, things will stay the same, they have to.

Harry clung desperately to his last thought, as Dumbledore paced determinedly back towards him.

'Oh, this is an interesting development…' The Sorting Hat drawled idly.

Dumbledore paused in front of Harry with slight apprehension swirling around in the depths of his brilliant blue eyes.

Dumbledore slowly started to lower the hat over Harry's prone head.

 'SLYTHERIN!' The hat screamed out loud.

As if in slow-motion the room swirled, impossibly slow and infinitely dizzying. Harry crashed to the floor in a dead faint, the shock overwhelming him.

The last sight he caught a blurry glimpse of, was the disappointment filling Dumbledore's face.