(Author's Thanks: ShadowHunter1, RainSW6, White Rider, Elena, npetrenko, Amirathis, scarface, aWsa, vlaf, SilveredDeath, Bakajin, W.Kathy, Prongsblacks, and HarrySlytherin*son for reviewing.

Disclaimers: All characters in the story belong to J.K. Rowling.

Warnings: This story will eventually be slash. If you are against homosexual relationships, please do not read this story. Any furious rant against slash in a review will be mocked. Thank you.

Author's Notes: I apologize profusely for the delay. All of the characters run out of my heart for a couple of months due to the extreme stress of my junior year. I promise I won't take this long for the next chapter.

~Cinaed)

Nest of the Phoenix

By Cinaed, Born of Fire

Chapter Eight

"So, you're the infamous Harry Mason," was drawled as the brunet sat down among his fellow Slytherin, well aware of the curious gazes still lingering upon him from the various tables. He wondered what his Gryffindor friends thought of him now. He wondered if Tom thought of him any less.

Harry couldn't help but smirk a little at the comment from the other Slytherin. "You know, you're the second person to greet me like that. My reputation is really paving the way for me." He extended a hand towards the blonde, experiencing a feeling of déjà vu. Hadn't the other boy offered him his hand on the train their first year? "You must be Draco Malfoy. You're the splitting image of your father."

Draco flushed a bit with pride at that, eagerly shaking the offered hand. There were no attempts to impress, no sniggering from Ron about the blonde's name to incur his wrath, just a pleased smile and an enthusiastic handshake "You've met my father?"

"Yes. Of course, most of the conversation concerned you and if I'd met you." Harry let a teasing quality coat his words, and he smiled a bit to show he was only joking.

Suddenly a harsh voice interrupted them, the sounds grating on the brunet's ears. "That's Malfoy's father all right, doting on his precious son. Did you see his /lover/?" The final word dripped with derision.

While splotches of red appeared on Draco's cheeks, Harry raised an eyebrow towards Pansy Parkinson and drawled, "You mean Mr. Potter? Why yes, yes I did." His green gaze flickered between Pansy and Draco curiously, and the Potter teenager gradually realized something.

In this universe, Draco was not the ringleader of the Slytherin. It seemed to Pansy who had that title, judging by the fact that Crabbe and Goyle flanked her.

Pansy sneered, her pug-face contorting for a moment. "Well, just to warn you, Harry Mason, we of Slytherin don't appreciate that sort of immoral behavior." She shot a nasty look towards Draco, who visibly paled.

The brunet arched both of his eyebrows at that, and said a slow, "I see...." Then, without further ado, he turned back to the blonde and said cheerfully, "So, what class do we have first? Damn if I don't have a lot of work to catch up on!"

Draco smiled, hesitantly at first, as if he thought the other boy was taunting him, and then a true smile blossomed on his porcelain features. "You're in luck, actually. It's Tuesday, so we have the best class—Professor Snape."

"Who's also a disgrace to Salazar Slytherin," Pansy cut in. Her grating tone was beginning to get on Harry's nerves. "Not to mention that's one of our classes with the Gryffindor gaggle."

"My, my, my. If so many people are disgraces to Salazar Slytherin, there must be something in the water," Harry remarked in a sardonic tone, casting a scathing glance towards the girl. "And I believe I was speaking to Draco, not you...."

"I'm Pansy. Pansy Parkinson." Her voice lowered as her eyes narrowed in a threatening way. "Be careful the way you speak to me, Mason. I can make your life miserable."

Harry rolled his eyes, not at all impressed by the warning. He leaned closer to her, ignoring the way Crabbe and Goyle tensed, and felt a cold smirk curve his lips. "You know what, Parkinson? In a fair duel, I could kill you without even trying." He paused, to let that sink into her small brain, and then added in an almost pleasant tone, "Try to remember that the next time you threaten me."

From the corner of Harry's eye, he noticed Draco staring at him in a mixture of astonishment and apprehension. The splotches had faded from his cheeks, but the blonde still looked a little embarrassed.

"Is that a threat, Mason?"

"Just a promise," Harry informed her cheerfully before casually taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. He let the cool liquid linger on his tongue before he swallowed it and felt it slide down his throat. "I must say that Hogwarts has much better food than Durmstrang."

"Really?" Draco said with surprise. "How so?"

"Just more options," Harry said calmly even as he decided not to mention too much about Durmstrang. After all, someone could catch him in a lie, easily. "So Professor Snape is a good teacher then, even if he seems to be a disgrace?"

"He teaches us things we need to know to survive," a quiet voice concluded, and Harry glanced up, his brow knitting in puzzlement at the unfamiliar Italian who watched him with intense dark brown eyes.

"Did we tell you that you were allowed to speak, Blaise?" Pansy snarled, glaring at the Italian, who offered her a polite glance but nothing more.

"He was answering my question, so in essence I did give him permission to speak since he knew the answer," Harry commented, glancing curiously at this world's Blaise Zabini.

The Italian seemed unconcerned that he had caused any tension, simply nodding and going back to eating his meal. His dark brown gaze glittered gold as light struck it, but otherwise there was no flicker of disquiet in his eyes. Strands of sable caressed his cheeks, and he absently brushed the annoying locks away from his olive flesh.

In Harry's universe, Blaise had been one of the Slytherin who didn't seem to particularly care for anyone at all. During their classes together, he had never spoken for or against Harry. Then again, he had also never spoken for or against Malfoy. Come to think of it, Blaise Zabini had always been a bit of a mystery to the Potter boy and probably the rest of the school.

"So, what class do we have after Potions?"

Draco thought for a moment. "Transfigurations with Professor McGonagall. She's strict and has favorites, but you'll learn a lot in her class."

"Mr. Mason?" The pleasant voice could be no other than Dumbledore, and Harry turned in his seat to look questioningly towards the headmaster. "Before you go to Potions, I need you to make a decision on what your classes will be. Naturally, you'll have Potions, History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfigurations, Charms, and Herbology. Simply let me know what two other classes you'd like to be in." With a nod and a smile, the white-haired wizard headed off to chat with a Hufflepuff.

Harry blinked. He hadn't even thought of his two extra classes. He turned and raised an eyebrow towards Draco. "What classes would you suggest?"

"Well, I'm in Astrology and Care of Magical Creatures," the blonde informed him, smiling a little. "Hagrid is a really good teacher. Unfortunately, he's not here right now. Some old woman is doing his job right now."

"Oh?" Harry couldn't help the startled note that entered his tone. Hagrid was actually a good teacher here? As much as he adored the gentle giant back in his universe, Hagrid wasn't a good teacher.

Draco smiled a little. "Yeah, our teachers are good at vanishing at odd moments. You'd probably like him and the class though."

"I'll take that one then," Harry decided. "What other choices are there? I don't think I'd enjoy going up into a tower and staring at the stars in the middle of the night...."

"Well, what classes did you take at Durmstrang?" Draco asked, wearing a pleasant smile. It was still so odd how pleasant the blonde could be. The lack of rancor still disconcerted the brunet.

"Boring ones," he said simply, earning an amused look. "Are there any other interesting classes?"

"Well... There's Divination, but—" The blonde's words were cut off by a hearty chuckle and a Irish lad wrapped his arms around his neck. "Oh, hey Seamus." There was a soft note to Draco's words as he smiled at his boyfriend.

"Hello, love. I wanted to see if you'd walk to Potions with me." Seamus grinned from ear to ear, his grayish-green eyes dancing. He cast a glance towards Harry, and offered him a friendly grin. "And your new friend too, of course."

"Of course, as long as you don't mind waiting with me while Harry goes and tells Dumbledore what his two extra classes are," Draco said, his gray eyes filled with amusement at his lover's antics.

"That's fine! What classes are you going to take?" With his arms still wrapped around his boyfriend's neck, Seamus grinned cheerfully at the newcomer.

It was such a familiar grin.... It took a moment for Harry to swallow and get rid of the lump in his throat so that he could respond. "I was thinking of Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, actually." He figured that Divination would be easy, if boring, and that Care of Magical Creatures should prove interesting in this universe.

"Really? You'll be in a class with me and the other Gryffindor then." The Irish boy chuckled, seemingly ignoring the venomous looks Pansy kept focusing upon him. "We Gryffindor have to put up with you filthy Slytherin in Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, Astrology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Hey, no being rude to the new Slytherin on his first day here, Seamus," Draco mildly chided the Gryffindor, although he had an amused smile on his lips.

Seamus attempted to look innocent. "Really, Draco, I meant filthy in the nicest possible way...." He winked at Harry before adding, "Besides, the majority of the Slytherin House take showers twice a week or so." He unwrapped his arms around Draco's neck and chuckled when the blonde laughed and took a swipe at him.

The brunet watched the two tease each other, finding the entire scene almost surreal. It was amazing.... A Gryffindor and a Slytherin, in love. Then again, from what he'd learned so far, it didn't seem that big of deal here. There were so many of that pairing. James and Lucius, Bill and Severus, Draco and Seamus.... Once again he found himself wondering if any of these relationships would ever be possible in his universe, and firmly decided otherwise.

All too soon, the breakfast was over, and Harry was pleased to note that he hadn't felt nauseous at all. That chat with Cedric had really done the trick! He had cleaned off his plate and finished two goblets of pumpkin juice. Of course, the brunet was beginning to suspect that he'd eaten a bit too much, but he figured he could survive a bit of an upset stomach.

"Just let me go talk to the headmaster, and then you both can show me the way to Potions," Harry said, rising to his feet and patting his stomach.

"I hope you like the dungeons!" was Seamus' cheerful response, and the brunet rolled his eyes before heading over to the teacher's table. He walked over to where Dumbledore was socializing with Professor Flitwick, and then waited for the headmaster to finish the conversation.

"Ah, Mr. Mason. Have you made a decision then?" Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as Flitwick hurried away.

"Yes, sir. I'll be sticking with Care of Magical Creatures and Divination," Harry informed him, smirking a little when one of the first- year Ravenclaw dared to glance over curiously at him before blushing and racing from the room.

Dumbledore frowned a little, an odd look of concern on his face. "Are you certain about Divination, Harry?" he asked quietly, his voice lowering a little.

Harry offered him a quizzical smile, wondering at the trepidation. "Of course. I figure Trelawney won't be too boring," he replied, running a hand through his messy locks.

"No, no, she won't be, but—"

"With all due respect, Headmaster Dumbledore, Harry's going to be late to Potions if we don't hurry off to the glorious dungeons!" Seamus seemed to be even better at butting in in this universe than he was in Harry's universe.

Dumbledore frowned a little, his intense blue eyes lingering on Harry. "Just a moment, Seamus. Harry, are you sure you want to take Divination? Professor Trelawney is a very unique woman."

"I've heard she is," Harry said in an off-hand manner. "I'll speak to you later, Headmaster." He turned to Seamus and Draco, who were watching the exchange with vague looks of bewilderment. "So, how damp /are/ the dungeons anyway?"

He was aware of Dumbledore's eyes following him from the Great Hall, but he didn't think anything of it. After all, he could deal with a batty Trelawney! At least now she wouldn't bemoan his death every lesson.... Hmm, now that was an interesting thought. Harry wondered who was the honorary 'doomed one' in this universe. Oh well, he supposed he would find out.

"So, what was Durmstrang like?" Seamus asked, breaking the brunet from his reverie.

"Thoroughly restrictive," Harry stated with a sigh. "No one had a sense of humor there. I mean, would Hogwarts teachers expel me for turning them green?"

Seamus laughed at that, and Draco smiled in amusement before the blonde commented, "Well, no, but you'd certainly get a lot of detention."

"Detentions are something I'm used to." The brunet was rather pleased with his glib response, and he quirked a smile towards the duo. "So, Seamus, you're Irish?"

"That I am," the Gryffindor agreed cheerfully, purposely thickening his accent. "How about you? You don't look like you're from Bulgaria."

"I'm not. I'm from Wales, but my parents moved out of the country when I was really young. They're architects, so we've moved around a bit," Harry explained, realizing with a pang that he knew nothing about his parents' ancestry. Where had Lily Potter been born? What had his grandparents been like?

"You have a British accent though," Draco commented as they descended the stairs that would lead them closer to the Potions classroom. His gaze was keen with interest.

"Like I said; we moved around a lot when I was a kid. One of the places was Britain, and I guess I picked up that accent. They settled down in Bulgaria right before I was old enough to go to school, so they decided I should go to Durmstrang." Now, if only he could keep these lies straight....

Both Draco and Seamus seemed satisfied with his answers, and the Irish Gryffindor cheerily said, "It's too bad you missed the latest Quidditch match. Tom put on quite a show."

"And broke a bone for his efforts, I noticed," Harry drawled. "What was the score?"

"Four hundred and ten to sixty," Draco said.

Harry winced at the score. "Hufflepuff was massacred."

"Well, you know Gryffindor needs all the points it can get, what with Draco as the Seeker for Slytherin." Seamus gave the blonde a playful pat on the back, and Draco fairly glowed with pride. "Last year Gryffindor and Slytherin tied for the Quidditch Cup."

"Tied? How the bloody hell do you manage that?"

"Slytherin was going to lose, badly, and everyone was getting injured, so I caught the Snitch, and we ended up tying in the final match," Draco explained.

"Oh, sort of like Viktor Krum in Ireland versus Bulgaria," Harry said, his eyes lighting up. It must have been a great match, and this universe's Draco must be a much better Quidditch player.

"You were at the World Cup last year?" Seamus grinned. "That was a bloody great match."

"Yeah, I saw it."

Draco brushed a stray strand of whitish gold away from his face and inquired, "Are you a Quidditch fan then?"

Harry opened his mouth and then his footfalls faltered as he realized that he wouldn't be playing Quidditch until he returned to his own universe. The Potter boy wouldn't have wanted to usurp Draco or Tom's position on a Quidditch team, no matter what. Struggling not to think wistfully at his Firebolt, he managed to find his voice. "I-I am, but I can't fly worth a damn." Trying to keep his voice carefree, he started walking as quickly as before.

Seamus looked sympathetic. "I know how that is, mate. My best friend, Dean, he's a horrible flier. He always ends up upside down."

In spite of himself, Harry's lips quirked into a smile. "Well, that's what he gets for playing football most of his life."

"How'd you know Dean likes football?" Seamus asked, looking startled.

Inwardly cursing at his slip-up, Harry gave a slight shrug. "Ron Weasley was pointing a bunch of people out to me while I was resting in the infirmary. He mentioned Dean liking football."

"Good memory," Draco said, smiling. "Here's another thing to remember: never sit next to him during a Quidditch match. He always ends up yelling for red cards and yellow cards."

Harry chuckled, relieved that he managed to hide his blunder. "I'll try to remember that." He shivered a little as a cool breeze slipped through his thin robes and raised numerous goosebumps on his flesh.

Seamus raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised to see the brunet tremble. Draco, meanwhile, looked a bit sympathetic. "It does get a bit drafty down in the dungeons. Once we get to the classroom though, it won't be as bad."

"That sounds good to me," Harry said, before shivering again. He was well aware that he had second-hand robes and that starving himself over the summer had left him with virtually no body fat, and hugged himself in a vain attempt to keep heat from escape his malnourished frame.

Draco shot him a vaguely concerned look, but didn't comment. Instead, he simply opened a door and announced, "Well, here we are. Welcome to Potions, Harry."

Still shivering a little, the brunet nevertheless smiled a bit at that, took a deep breath, and then stepped into the room where the other Gryffindor and Slytherin were preparing for class.

(To be continued)