A/N: Enjoy Chapter 6!

The train began to slow down as Harry reached his compartment door. Throwing it open, he hurried inside and headed for his trunk.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione said immediately, her voice laced with concern. "Are you bleeding?"

"I'm fine," Harry answered, pulling out his robes and closing the lid of his trunk. Both of his friends stood up then as the steam engine lurched to a stop, and within seconds, students could be heard filing out into the corridor, laughing and talking and shouting as they made their way off of the train. Harry didn't feel like being a part of that crowd just now.

"But mate, what—" Ron began.

"I got into it with Malfoy, alright? No big deal."

"No big deal? Harry, you could be in a lot of trouble for this!" Hermione exclaimed, trying to get a better look at Harry's cut lip. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Harry took a step back, unconsciously tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. "I said I'm fine, Hermione. You two go on. I'll only be a minute."

Hermione looked as though she wanted to protest, but Ron stepped in and grabbed her arm.

"We'll save you a seat in the Great Hall, Harry," the boy said, half-dragging Hermione through the compartment door.

"But—" the girl started, as they joined the line of students exiting the train.

"Oh, give him a minute to get himself presentable," Ron interrupted. "We'll see him at the castle."

Harry listened to the fading voices of his two best friends, and then slowly shrugged into his school robes. He reached up to touch his lip once more, and sighed. He really should have just walked away from Malfoy. Hermione was probably right. He was going to be in a lot of trouble.

Without really thinking about it, Harry once again pulled out the old picture of his mother and Snape. It was strange, but somehow the photograph was comforting. He stared down at it for a couple long minutes before tucking it away and heading out into the nearly empty corridor.

The night was calm and quiet when Harry stepped out onto the platform at Hogsmeade Station. Only a few stragglers remained, mostly older students that Harry did not recognize. Hagrid was nowhere to be seen, which meant he had already rounded up all the first years and led them off to the lake. There was no sign of Ron or Hermione either.

"Hey, Harry!"

Turning, Harry saw Neville Longbottom running towards him, his toad clutched tightly to his chest.

"Hey, Neville. How are you?"

"Fine," the round-faced boy replied, slightly out of breath. "But I've been chasing Trevor all over the train. I only just caught him. Where are Ron and Hermione?"

"Oh, they just went ahead," Harry answered, as the two of them followed a couple of sixth year boys down a dirt track towards a spot where a few carriages sat waiting for them.

"The carriages just pull themselves?" Harry asked, when he saw that there were no horses.

The sixth years they had been following exchanged looks and sniggered before climbing into a carriage. "Second years," Harry heard one of them say in exasperation. He wasn't the least bit surprised when he saw that both of them had the Slytherin snake stitched to the front of their robes.

Harry followed Neville into the next carriage, and a few seconds later, they were moving. The carriage was, indeed, pulling itself.

"Is it true that you hit Malfoy on the train?" Neville asked almost timidly after the silence had stretched on for several seconds.

Harry suppressed a sigh. Of course the whole school would already know all about that.

"Yeah," he said at last, running a hand through his messy hair. "Probably not the smartest thing to—"

"What's that?" Neville suddenly interrupted, pointing towards Harry's arm.

Looking to where Neville was pointing, Harry saw that both the sleeve of his robe, and the sleeve of his overly large shirt underneath, had risen up on his arm to reveal some dark bruises from last night's encounter with Uncle Vernon.

"Nothing. I just— fell out of a tree yesterday," he invented quickly, yanking the sleeves back into place.

"Ouch," Neville said, shaking his head. "I've never climbed a tree before. I'm too afraid of heights. That's why I'm glad Flying is only a first year class."

Harry sighed inwardly in relief. Neville had believed him. Now all he needed to do was to keep the bruises hidden from everyone else until they faded away. He shuddered to think what Malfoy, or anyone else for that matter, would do if they found out that the savior of the wizarding world was regularly beaten up by a muggle.

"Well, here we go," Neville was saying as the carriage came to a stop directly in front of the entrance to the castle. "Are you ready for another year, Harry?"

Harry had no idea how to respond to that, and so he simply gave a quick nod, before leading the way out of the carriage and into the entrance hall.

It was a lot more crowded here than it had been back at the train station, and almost as soon as Harry crossed the threshold, he could hear the whispers and see the pointing fingers all aimed in his direction.

Trying his best to ignore all of the stares, Harry began making his way through the crowd and towards the Great Hall, Neville close at his side.

"Harry, there you are!"

Looking up, Harry saw that Percy Weasley was standing directly in front of him, his chest puffed out so that the gleaming prefect's badge was impossible to miss on his robes.

"Hi, Percy," Harry said. "Are Ron and Hermione already sitting down?"

"Yes, but I've been asked to inform you that you are to report directly to Professor Snape's office."

Beside him, Neville gave a very audible squeak of fear, almost losing the grip he still had on his toad.

"Right now?" Harry asked, his stomach suddenly in knots.

Percy nodded. "Immediately."

"Okay, um...where is Snape's office?" Harry said, not quite able to keep the nervousness from his voice.

"Just go the way you would go to Potions," Percy said importantly, apparently enjoying his role as the helpful prefect, without seeming to realize that he very well could be sending Harry off to his doom. "The door on your right just past the classroom is the professor's office. He'll be waiting for you."

Neville looked as though he feared he may never see Harry again. "Good luck," was all he could manage to say as Harry turned and headed for the dungeons.

Harry's voice got caught in his throat, and he was unable to reply.

Harry's thoughts were whirling around in his head as he made his way down the cold dungeon corridor towards Snape's office. His stomach was still twisting around, doing flip flops and making him feel ill.

He didn't want to see Snape right now.

And it wasn't just because the potions master would undoubtedly take Malfoy's side, and give Harry a month's worth of detentions, and take a million points from Gryffindor.

Harry put a hand to his side, right over the place where his photograph was safe in his pocket.

The truth was that he still had no idea what to think or to feel or to do about what he had discovered this summer. Could he, should he do anything?

The sound of faint voices brought Harry out of his thoughts. He had reached the door that Percy had said was Snape's office and he paused for a moment before knocking, straining his ears to listen.

"Hold still, Draco," a voice that could belong to no one other than Snape said firmly. But Harry could have sworn that there was a kind of gentleness there as well. It was definitely strange, but then Malfoy was a Slytherin. Of course Snape would give him special treatment.

Taking a deep breath, Harry summoned every ounce of Gryffindor courage he possessed in that moment, and raised his knuckles to rap against the wood of the door three times.

There was silence for all of two seconds before Harry heard a very harsh "Enter" from inside the room.

There was no gentleness in that word.

Without giving himself any time to think too much about it, Harry pushed the door open, and walked inside.

Normally, Harry probably would have found it difficult to look away from all of the creepy jars filled with slimy ingredients located all around the room. He wouldn't be able to stop himself from looking around at all of the dungeon bat's tall, dark bookshelves, or the cold and empty fireplace. He would take in every inch of the place from top to bottom, curious to see where his most hated Hogwarts professor spent so much of his time.

But now, Harry found his eyes glued to the spot directly in front of the professor's desk. There, Draco Malfoy sat on a dark cushioned chair, his face turned upwards while Severus Snape gently applied something, most likely a bruise balm, to the area around the boy's eye where he had been punched. He watched as Snape finished, twisting the cap back onto the small container of medicine, and then wiping his hands on a cloth from his desk. It was only then that he looked up at Harry. And there was nothing but pure loathing in his glare.

Oh, no, Harry thought, when his eyes met those of the professor. Nothing has changed. He still hates me.

And why wouldn't he? another voice in his head argued. Just because you found out he used to be friends with your mother, you thought things would be different?

"Sit," Snape said venomously, pointing to the other chair in front of his desk.

Harry felt the lump beginning to form in his throat, and he did his best to force it back as he moved forward to take his seat. Even with a blackened eye, Malfoy was giving him a malicious smile, but Snape didn't seem to notice.

"Mr. Potter," the man finally began, his voice soft and menacing. "Can't even bring yourself to wait for term to begin before causing a whole mess of trouble."

Harry was looking down at his lap. "But I—"

"Silence!"

Harry was sure that if he were to look, he would see a grin plastered across Malfoy's face. He was probably enjoying every second of this, the stuck up, pure-blooded git.

"You attacked a fellow classmate on the train, did you not?"

Harry wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. It seemed that Snape had already made up his mind about Harry's guilt.

When Harry didn't answer right away, Snape suddenly swooped down on him, placing his hands on the armrests on either side of Harry's chair.

Harry winced. One of Snape's hands had landed right on his right arm, right where there were bruises. He could only hope that the man would think his reaction was out of fear rather than pain.

Not that Snape would care either way.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you, Potter. And answer my question."

Harry reluctantly raised his eyes to Snape.

"Well?" Snape hissed.

"It wasn't my fault!" Harry said firmly, sounding far braver than he felt.

Snape straightened, a look of disgust crossing his face. "Just like your father, Potter. Refusing to take responsibility for your actions and—"

"He insulted my mother!" Harry suddenly blurted out.

It wasn't true, and Harry wasn't quite sure what made him say it. Maybe because he doubted Snape would accept the real truth. That Malfoy had insulted him and in that moment, despite being nowhere near as big, or ugly, or stupid, Draco Malfoy, with that menacing smirk and flanked by his two loyal goons, had looked to Harry exactly like Dudley Dursley.

And then there was the picture in his pocket. It proved that Snape had known his mother, had even been her friend. Harry knew that if he had any chance of escaping this room with a lighter punishment than the one Snape probably had in mind, this was it.

"What?!" Malfoy practically exploded. "I never said a word against your filthy mudblood mother, you lying—"

"Detention, Mr. Malfoy!"

Both boys turned shocked eyes onto the potions master.

"But – but, I—" was all the blond boy could manage to say.

"You know better than to use such foul language. Especially in my presence," Snape continued, his eyes flashing.

"But he's lying!" Malfoy said indignantly.

"I believe I just informed you that your detention is due to what you just uttered a moment ago, not for what may or may not have happened on the train."

Malfoy only managed to stutter out a few more incoherent words before falling silent, the shock still evident on his face.

"You will serve your detention with me tomorrow evening at 7:00," Snape stated. "Any more objections?"

All Malfoy could do was shake his head. There was no telling what Snape would do if the boy dared to voice any complaints.

The whole thing would have been funny if Harry wasn't still waiting fearfully to hear his own fate. It wasn't everyday that you got to see a Slytherin in trouble with Snape, after all.

"Then return to your common room now," Snape said to Malfoy.

"But the feast—"

"You will not be attending. You will be provided with some sustenance in the common room."

Malfoy looked confused. That was the only way Harry could describe the different emotions passing across the other boy's face as he slowly got to his feet. It was as though he was just waiting for Snape to announce that he had only been joking.

Harry was waiting for that announcement, too.

But it didn't come, and Snape simply stared at the blond boy with eyebrows raised until Malfoy finally turned and headed for the door.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Snape rounded on Harry, his wand raised.

And Harry felt his stomach drop.

Snape flicked his wand, and immediately, Harry's hand went to his lip. It was healed. But before he could think too much on what had just happened, the professor began speaking.

"I will be discussing this matter with your head of house," Snape said, in that terrifyingly soft voice. "Your fate will ultimately rest with her. Although I can promise you I will be making some heavy recommendations as to what your punishment shall be."

Harry swallowed. At least it would be up to Professor McGonagall. She may be strict, but at least she was fair.

"I suggest you keep yourself out of trouble this year, Mr. Potter. I will not tolerate your disobedience or disrespect. Do I make myself clear?" Snape's tone was deadly.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered quietly.

"Then return to your common room."

Harry stood, hardly able to believe his luck. This whole meeting could have gone so much worse.

Then Snape suddenly thrust out a hand and grabbed Harry's arm, yanking up the sleeves.

Harry jerked back in surprise, yanking his arm away from Snape before he could get a good look at the bruises.

"And what, pray tell, have you managed to get yourself into this time?" Snape sounded annoyed.

"I fell out of a tree," Harry answered immediately, the response coming to him from earlier.

Snape sneered at him and then turned, and Harry took that as his cue to leave. He hurried for the door.

"Potter!" Snape called, and Harry reluctantly turned back.

Snape looked for a moment as though he had just swallowed a nasty potion. Then he picked up a small container and walked it over to where Harry stood.

Harry's heart was pounding in his chest. Had Snape seen through his lie? Or was he still planning on handing out a punishment? He had a sudden urge to reach into his pocket and grasp at the photograph there, but he resisted.

And then Snape was shoving the little container into Harry's hand. It was bruise balm, just like the kind the man had applied to Malfoy's eye.

Harry looked up at the man, a question in his eyes.

Snape scowled. "Even you aren't so incompetent as to not recognize bruise balm, Potter. Take it and go. Then I don't have to listen to any complaints from your head of house that I failed to help one of her precious lions."

"Thank you, sir," Harry finally managed to whisper.

Snape rolled his eyes, looking as though he wanted nothing more than to snatch the container back. "Go. Common room. No detours," the man said harshly, pointing to the door. "And remember what I said about your behavior."

"Yes, sir," Harry said quickly, hurrying into the corridor. The door closed immediately behind him.

Harry made his way up through the castle, his thoughts once again jumbled around in his head. It was difficult to turn away from the Great Hall and head up the marble staircase when the smells of the delicious feast were wafting into the entrance hall, and Harry wondered briefly if there would be any food waiting for him in his common room like there would be for Malfoy.

But he quickly abandoned the thought. Snape hadn't mentioned anything about it, and he probably wouldn't be able to eat much anyway.

He continued through the dark and silent hallways, climbing staircases and ducking down secret passageways that would get him to Gryffindor tower faster, all the while going over the meeting with Snape in his head.

The man was just as mean and bitter as ever. Harry still couldn't picture him as a child. Young and happy, with his mother for a friend. When exactly had he changed? Did it happen all at once? Or was it something that gradually occurred over a long period of time? And—

"Password?"

Harry shook his head to clear his rambling thoughts, and was surprised to find that he was already standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Oh, um..."

Harry didn't know the new password.

"I was just sent up here..."

The Fat Lady sighed. "Yes, I was informed you were coming. Although I really had hoped that you would have managed to obtain the password. It goes against every instinct I have to just allow anyone in—"

"But you will let me in?" Harry asked hopefully.

The Fat Lady gave another long-suffering sigh. "You just make sure you get the password, young man. This is a one-time occurrence. If you come to me tomorrow without—"

"I'll get the password, I promise. Now could you please...?"

With one final sigh that made the Fat Lady sound as though the weight of the entire world had been placed on her shoulders, she finally swung forward, and Harry was able to pass through the portrait hole.

The common room was empty and silent, exactly the way Harry liked it. He crossed the room, intending to head straight up to his dorm, when something sitting on one of the tables caught his eye.

It was a plate of sandwiches, with a pitcher and a glass by its side.

Unable to keep from smiling, Harry walked over and grabbed the top sandwich. He took a bite, only just realizing how hungry he was. It was ham.

Peering into the pitcher, Harry discovered that it was full of pumpkin juice. And as he carefully poured himself a glass, Harry's thoughts returned to Snape.

Yes, the man was definitely still mean and bitter. But he had still managed to surprise Harry. Snape had healed his lip and made sure he received bruise balm and a meal (at least, Harry assumed the sandwiches were from him). And he hadn't really punished Harry, just said that McGonagall was going to do it.

He even forgot to take points from Gryffindor! And Harry was sure that Snape had only forgotten. He wouldn't have passed up an opportunity to take points like that on purpose.

But perhaps the most surprising of all, Harry thought, as he took another huge bite of sandwich, was something that brought a big, smug smile to his face.

Snape had given Draco Malfoy a detention.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I'll try to get Chapter 7 done as soon as possible.

-Ailee17