Chapter Notes:

I'm not particularly happy with how I've written Snape - partially because I wanted to make him sound like his typical Snapey self, but I just can't make him snarky enough. I've decided that it's best to write him in a way that feels natural so I do apologize if he seems a bit OOC.

Furthermore, I am aware that in this chapter overreacts to Snape's words - at least in my opinion. When writing it I decided to put myself into his shoes and think about how I would react in that type of situation.

Also, I'd like some feedback on Draco. Should he be brattier? Should I keep him as he is? I want Draco and Harry to have a good friendship so I can't make him too snobbish, but it wouldn't hurt to crank it up a bit, I suppose.

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Harry Potter was a small child. Smaller than any eleven year old should be, in fact. Because of this - and also due to his scar and supposed fame - he had received many odd stares from his housemates ever since he had been sorted. Harry didn't notice these stares, as he had taken to staring down at his lap as the rest of the sorting passed by.

Then the feast came. The boy was amazed at first, staring in wonder as the food magically appeared in front of him from seemingly nowhere. He had received a few odd looks after that, like he wasn't supposed to be amazed at such a thing - as if it was perfectly normal. That had dampened his mood once again, so he went back to staring at his lap.

He didn't eat anything that night, he had felt sick at the sight of all of the food. The Dursley's rules were also drilled into his mind. Freaks didn't deserve food, they'd tell him. He shouldn't even be sitting at the table, but he really didn't want to stand out anymore than he already did. He'd take the punishment when it came.

Sitting next to him was a boy with nearly-white blond hair and sparkling grey eyes. Draco Malfoy. Harry had met him on the train. Draco, although a bit stuck up, was a decent person in Harry's opinion so the two had become semi-friends.

Harry wouldn't call him a real friend yet - as the two had barely any time to talk much about themselves. Draco's friends had entered the compartment they were sharing and had immediately distracted the blond with conversation after conversation. They had barely acknowledged Harry so he had stayed quiet.

"I can't wait for potions," Draco stated making Harry look at him. "Father says I'll be great at it. He even got me some of the best tutors to prepare for it!" Confidence radiated off of the blond, and Harry wished he could have some of it. "Interested in any of the offered classes, Potter?"

Harry sent him a shy smile and nodded. Harry had - before they were ripped away from him - looked over some of his course books and had an idea of what the courses for this year would be about. "I think Defence Against the Dark Arts may be interesting, but other than that I'm not quite sure."

Draco nodded, casting a quick glance to the staff table. "Father says that it was an okay class when he went here, but the professors never last longer than a year. Plus, I heard him saying that the professor is a bit of a joke this year." He explains casually. Harry too glanced up at the staff table. "It's Quirrell this year - the one with the turban."

When Harry laid eyes on the man, his scar immediately began to hurt. He looked away quickly, smiling at Draco for a moment before returning his gaze to his lap. He couldn't wait for the feast to be over. All of the food was so tempting to taste - but he knew he'd be punished for eating it. He always was.

"Oh! And Professor Williams will also be teaching Defense! Father mentioned that Dumbledore insists on having two professors for that class just in case," The young Malfoy took notice of the lack of food on his plate and looked at his new friend in confusion. Deciding that Potter was just being shy about retrieving food, he took it upon himself to scoop some fruit onto his plate.

Harry looked up quickly at his plate and saw the fruit Draco had served him. The blond was watching him carefully, eyes glancing towards the food every few seconds, encouraging him to eat. Harry didn't want to appear rude - because surely he'd be punished for that too - so he began to slowly nibble on an apple slice to appease him.

Soon enough the feast was over and the Slytherins were being filed out of the great hall in an orderly fashion by the Prefects. When they had finally gotten down to their common room in the dungeons all Harry wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. He was already rocking sleepily on his feet.

This was his first night away from his relatives, and hopefully the first night he will of had an adequate rest. Back on Privet Drive, his injuries would typically keep him wide awake throughout the night. There was rarely a night where this didn't happen and those long nights really exhausted him.

Unfortunately, his Head of House seemed to have other ideas as the batlike man began rattling off his rules and expectations. Harry was too tired to process his words - something about house unity, he sleepily acknowledged. The Prefects had organized their fellow Slytherins into orderly rows.

First years were made to sit at the front, second years kneeling in the second roll, and the third to seventh years standing in the back making up the other five rows. Harry really didn't see the point in such a set up, but went along with in fear of getting punished for disagreeing.

Beside him sat Draco again - the blond had deemed Harry as one of his best friends during their short time of knowing each other. Harry didn't say anything about it, content with the fact that he had someone to call his friend. He hadn't ever had friends back on Privet Drive, Dudley had always scared kids his age off.

To his left sat a boy named Blaise Zabini. Blaise had been moderately friendly with him, a little arrogant but at least he didn't seem to particularly hate Harry. Although, Harry hadn't spoken to the boy enough to get a proper impression.

Standing before the Slytherins was Professor Severus Snape. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the man, but he was awfully scary. Harry had noted that the man's sneer would intensify whenever he met his gaze. Perhaps he did something to insult the man? Either way it put a damper on his mood.

"Are you listening, Potter?" Harry tensed as his Head of House addressed him. He could hear the hatred in his voice. "Foolish boy - detention for your ignorance. Perhaps that will teach you how to use that deplorable brain of yours." Harry had honestly heard worse. The insult wasn't nearly as bad as the verbal abuse he received from the Dursleys - yet his lip still quivered slightly.

He would not cry. He wasn't a baby, he was a freak - and freaks didn't deserve to cry. Freaks didn't deserve anything. They didn't deserve hugs. They didn't deserve love. Harry thought himself a fool for thinking that things would be better here. He had hoped that the teachers here wouldn't automatically hate him for merely existing, but the hope spent on such a fantasy was wasted.

Perhaps it was the years of physical and emotional abuse that caused such a reaction, perhaps it was the relief that the man had merely called him stupid rather than what he was normally called by his relatives. Or, Harry considered, perhaps it was the lack of sleep making him more emotional over a petty comment than anything else.

In the end the cause didn't particularly matter. The professor was being unfair and it was upsetting him. Harry was being childish for being upset over it, of course, but Professor Snape clearly wouldn't care for his feelings. Suddenly, Hogwarts didn't feel all that magical - even if it was a school for magic. It became clear to him that this was just another prison. A much larger one than his cupboard, but a prison nonetheless.

Draco nudged him slightly, bringing him back to reality and out of his dwellings. The blond looked at him with concern, but the dark haired boy only smiled at his new friend weakly and shook his head. Draco didn't need to know about his dwellings, they were too… personal.

"I have many expectations for the house of Slytherin, and foolishness is not one of them. I will not tolerate disrespect, or disregard for the rules that I have placed upon all of you." Snape's silky voice carried through the silent room effortlessly. Harry would even call it soothing if it hadn't been apparent that the professor hated him.

"To begin, you will all be expected to be out of bed by seven o'clock each morning - no exceptions. You shall not get out of bed until at least six-thirty o'clock - no exceptions for that as well." So far the rules were simple, of course, these were just the basic rules. The professor hadn't gotten to the more troubling ones that were bound to exist.

"You will be expected to be in the Great Hall by no later than eight o'clock for breakfast. You will eat like respectable young men or there will be consequences." Harry thought back to the way Dudley ate and determined that he should do the exact opposite of his cousin's eating ministrations. "I normally leave these rules for the Prefects to explain - I'll have you know - but I have reason to believe there are a few students here that will do well to hear them from myself."

He was obviously referring to Harry, and Harry was well aware of it. "There will be no sleeping throughout the day. I shall not tolerate any disturbances throughout the night caused by students that cannot fall asleep." That rule did sound reasonable to Harry - in fact they all did so far.

"To add to that last rule, there will be no roaming the halls after curfew. You have a curfew for a reason. The curfew for first years is nine o'clock. Prefects will - and should–" Snape eyed the female prefect for a moment, "–make an effort to enforce this rule. The curfew for the rest of the years will remain at ten o'clock."

Groans of protest echoed throughout the otherwise quiet room from the sixth and seventh years. A quick glare from Snape shut them up immediately. "You will be expected to follow any and all rules your other professors lay out for you. With all of that being said, I will leave the remaining rules for your prefects to explain." With that the professor turned around in a swift and practised motion, his robes billowing behind him as he left through the portrait.

The rest of the evening went by in a bit of a blur for Harry. Draco had helped him stay awake for the most part, not wanting his friend to get into any more trouble with his godfather for being tired. The blond didn't think that the detention Harry would have to deserve was fair - but what was he going to do? Telling his father wouldn't always solve problems like these.

Harry couldn't - although he did try - manage to pay any attention to the Slytherin prefects as they rattled on and on about the more complex rules of the school. Harry would ask Draco about them later but right now all he wanted to do was sleep. Soon enough the first years were sent off to bed, making him feel relieved. Finally he could get a full night's sleep.

–––

Harry, unfortunately, did not get a full night's sleep. When his head first touched the pillow that night the feeling g of sleeping in an actual bed was too strange, too foreign for him to get comfortable. He had tossed and turned, trying to ignore the growing anxiety that the little nagging voice in his head was causing. The voice sounded very similar to his uncle, he would realize had he not been so tired.

His eyes watered as another our passed by. He could not sleep in this bed, but he didn't want to sleep in a cupboard either. People would stare at him even more if he slept anywhere else except a bed. This internal battle went on for another hour until his body finally settled and his eyes drifted shut. The boy had fallen asleep at last.

This peace only lasted until three o'clock in the morning. Harry shot up, sweat coating his forehead and his body trembling. His emerald eyes glanced anxiously at the closed curtains located around the small area around his bed and dresser. A quiet whimper that was barely even audible escaped his lips as his nightmare replayed over and over again in his mind.

The nightmare was more of a memory than anything else. It was of the worst punishment he had ever received from his uncle– a punishment that his uncle from then on thought was best to enforce when his aunt and cousin weren't at home. Harry didn't want to think about any of that right now, though. He didn't want to think about what had happened in the dream or what his uncle had done.