You and Me

I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Harry sighed and ducked back the way he came, anything to avoid the crowds again.

It wasn't his fault he was a Parselmouth! How was he to know what that even meant?! And really, why was a language considered evil in and of itself? It was madness. People were bonkers.

"Bloody mental, the lot of them," he huffed to himself.

And yeah, maybe he was still annoyed at everyone taking out their fear on him, but they were so bloody hypocritical it was ridiculous. So, he was a hero and whatnot when they wanted him to be, but he was also a murdering liar when it suited them without listening to any other explanation?

It was like being back at the Dursleys, and that wasn't a comparison he thought he'd ever make of Hogwarts.

The sound of cruel laughter, so much like Dudley and his gang, echoed down the hallway and made him stop short, wondering if someone was finally going to try and hurt him like he'd been half-expecting ever since he first spoke to that snake. He quickly darted behind a nearby suit of armour, for once grateful that he was so much shorter than most people his age.

"Ridiculous. As if being in Slytherin changes anything."

"Of course not. He's still just a half-blood, and a blood traitor to boot."

Harry watched as two older Slytherins sauntered off down the hallway, laughing nastily to themselves as they mocked what was apparently one of their own Housemates. They were built big like Crabbe and Goyle, but had all the superiority of Malfoy whenever he opened his mouth to mock anyone he deemed beneath him. It was an unfortunate combination, and Harry couldn't help but despise them for it immediately.

He stepped out from his hiding place and walked in the opposite direction from the bullies. He didn't want to be anywhere near them when they were in that mood. Harry was just about to turn the corner when he hear a low moan, as if the owner of the voice was in pain, and Harry paused to slowly peek around the corner.

On the floor, slumped awkwardly with a head wound bleeding badly, was another Slytherin. Harry recognised him as one of the Slytherin Quidditch team members, but he wouldn't be able to say who.

He darted forward and bent down, studying the cut with a worried gaze. Slytherin or not, he needed help. Help that Harry couldn't really give as he knew that head wounds could be dangerous. He made to stand up before a hand wrapped around his wrist and held tightly, preventing him from moving. Harry gasped in surprise and looked down at the boy who wasn't as unconscious as he'd presumed.

Blue eyes peered up at him hazily, a hint of green softening the shade to something like turquoise. Harry liked the colour, but he was more concerned that the person looked like he was going to pass out.

"What're you doin', Potter?"

Definitely about to faint. The boy was slurring his words and blinking rapidly, though his eyes weren't getting any clearer. Harry ignored how the Slytherin already knew his name – his hair was kind of distinctive – and cleared his throat.

"Um, I was going to get Madam Pomfrey? I mean, she's the only person I know of that could heal you right now."

The boy scoffed. "Right. Since when d'you care 'bout Slytherins?"

Harry felt a wave of indignation at that and glared at the Slytherin. "I don't care about some Slytherins, that doesn't mean I hate the whole bloody lot of you! And yeah, I might be kind of wary of your House, but between the way Malfoy and Snape treat me, and how the man who murdered my parents came from Slytherin, I think I kind of have the right!"

Blue-green eyes widened with shock for a few moments, sitting there in stunned silence, before he let loose with another pained groan.

Harry took the chance to jump up and started to run off. He threw a quick, "I'll be back soon!" over his shoulder and sprinted to the Hospital Wing, all the while wanting to shake his head.

Stubborn idiot.

"Adrian Pucey."

Harry blinked, turning to the red-faced boy in the bed. "What?"

The Slytherin huffed but carried on. "My name. It's Adrian Pucey."

"Oh, er, right. It's nice to meet you. I'm – well, I mean, you already know – I," Harry stuttered out, feeling like a complete and utter idiot and wanting the floor to swallow him whole. "I'm Harry," he finished lamely.

Pucey snorted. "I know."

Harry could feel his face light on fire and he ducked his head, hoping that the older boy couldn't see him. He didn't want to show anyone how embarrassed he looked, people always used it as ammunition.

"Potter?"

He peeked up from beneath his fringe to see turquoise eyes on his. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

Harry ducked his head again, though this time his blush was caused by something else.

Adrian Pucey looked very nice when he smiled.

"Why is it, whenever I find you, you're always bleeding from the head?"

Pucey looked up at him and smirked, the expression just as deadly to Harry as his gentle smile. Ron was right, he really was fucked.

"Really, Potter? After coming here to help you win a war, getting in the thick of the fighting, almost losing my very life, you have the audacity to talk to me like that? I'll have you know that –"

Pucey – Adrian – always pulled the funniest faces when he was startled, and this time was no different. Harry relished in the rare chances he got to be the one to cause those faces, though this time was especially satisfying.

In his defence, he'd been dreaming about snogging this man for the past five years.

Harry leant into the kiss and wrapped one arm around Adrian's neck, the other coming up so he could run his fingers through the dark blonde mane he so admired. Adrian's lips were warm, so different to the freezing cold from living in a tent for so long, and he never wanted to stop. He almost wanted to thank Voldemort for giving him the courage to do this.

Adrian pulled back with a gasp and rested his forehead against Harry's. "Christ, Potter. You're going to be the death of me."

"Harry," he amended with a grin.

"Harry." Adrian rolled his eyes before gazing at him softly. "So … it's you and me now, huh?"

"Mmm, sort of …" Harry trailed off with a wicked smirk, quite enjoying the wariness in those lovely eyes. "I mean, you will have to deal with Sirius and Remus after they realise you have some truly sinful thoughts about their innocent godson."

Adrian blanched and paled, groaning as he leaned further into Harry. "You really are going to be the death of me."

Harry just chuckled and hugged his new partner tightly, glad for the grounding warmth.

You and me, for all of time.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed my foray into one of Slytherin's unknowns, thanks to a request from Wednesday_addams_Potter from early last year on AO3. Hope you liked it :)

(If you want to know why I haven't updated in so long, check out the long A/N on the previous chapter.)

See ya!