As the Seventh Years shuffled out of the first Potions class after Christmas, Harry lagged behind slightly, trying to fit his Potions book into his bag. Dean stood, dancing in urgency beside him, but Harry just couldn't seem to get the book in. Hermione was waiting a few feet further down the hall. Finally, the book slid into place between his other texts. Harry looked up with a grin of triumph, and almost ran into Draco Malfoy. A glance around said that the others from the class had also paused in the torch-lit corridor, watching to see what would happen.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted warily.

"How'd you get into the class Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "You haven't got any parents to pull strings on your behalf, so what's your secret? Bat your long lashes at the professor and say please? Or did you just go whining to the Muggle-loving Headmaster that it just wasn't fair? Because there's no chance you got into the class on merit."

Harry scowled. "Leave off, Malfoy, I worked really hard to get into this class!"

"Yeah," Dean joined in angrily. "Harry earned his spot."

Harry waved his friend off and turned to leave. There was no chance he was about to jeopardize his placement in NEWT Potions by getting into a fight right after his first class; especially not with any of the Potions Master's prized Slytherins. He'd known when he'd received his new timetable that morning that there would be some backlash over what might be viewed as special treatment, but he hadn't thought even Malfoy was thick enough to start something within earshot of the professor who'd given it. Harry only made it a few steps down the corridor when Malfoy spoke again.

"Earned it on your knees," The blonde muttered darkly.

Harry choked on a surprised laugh as he turned. "You're not seriously suggesting what I think you are," He challenged disbelievingly.

Malfoy shrugged. "It's not my business, Potter, who you whore yourself out to. I just think it's a little pathetic, that you-"

Harry didn't get a chance to hear what Malfoy thought was pathetic. Dean had launched from beside him, knocking their Slytherin rival to the dungeon flagstone. Harry gaped for a moment as the two wrestled across the corridor. When it became clear that one or both of them was bleeding, he leapt into the fray himself.

"Dean! Stop, he isn't worth it!"

Dean tried to push Harry off and clipped him in the eye with his elbow. Harry pulled back.

"Shit, what the hell, Dean?!"

Fed up, Harry jumped between the two warring Seventh Years and dragged them both to their feet. He stood between them, with a death-grip on both shoulders as much to keep them apart as to keep them there. There was no way Snape hadn't heard them by now.

"I said enough!"

The door to the classroom opened and Snape stood there imposingly.

"What is going on out here?" He sneered, black eyes taking in the scene quickly.

Harry studied the two opponents as well. Dean had several scratches, a tear in his robes, and hand-shaped bruises on his throat. Malfoy had a black eye, split lip, and the back of his blond head was pasted red from being slammed to the ground. No one spoke as Snape glared at them, and Harry glowered between the two boys he was holding at arm's length.

"Malfoy said something about me getting special treatment, and Dean attacked him," Harry explained. "Obviously, the fight wasn't entirely one-sided."

Snape frowned. "What happened to your eye?"

Harry glowered at his fellow Gryffindor, who looked down, ashamed. "I got clipped trying to pull them off each other."

Snape was silent for a moment. "20 points from Gryffindor…" He announced stoically. Malfoy smirked. "And from Slytherin." Harry smirked as Malfoy looked to his Head of House in disbelief. "Detention for you both. I've warned you about fighting, Mister Malfoy. Both of you get yourselves to the Infirmary. Granger, I leave it to you to ensure they get there."

Hermione gave a stiff nod and glowered at the injured pair. The two boys glared bitterly at each other, but were smart enough to keep their mouths shut as they left. The crowd that had been egging them on dispersed under a glare from the Potions Master. Harry turned to go as well.

"Potter, come."

"I've got a class."

"I'll give you a note. Come."

Harry sighed and followed Snape into the classroom. "It's really not that bad," He said lightly. "I can get some bruise salve from Madame Pomfrey before dinner."

Snape grabbed one of the student stools as he passed the front-most desks and set it on the platform that held the teacher's desk.

"Potter, you're bleeding."

Harry frowned and reached up to touch his injured brow. He pulled his hand away with a hiss as he touched the broken skin. His fingers came away red.

"Oops."

Snape looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow. "Indeed. Sit." He commanded, gesturing to the stool he'd moved.

Harry rolled his eyes and moved to sit on the stool. Snape disappeared into the ingredient cupboard. When he came out again, he held a clean rag and a laceration salve in one hand. In the other he carried an old, beaten first-aid kit.

"This isn't necessary," Harry demurred. "I can just go to Madame Pomfrey."

"She will have her hands full with your classmates," Snape pointed out as he set his items on his desk beside Harry. He took the rag and turned to the Gryffindor. "Unless you'd prefer she keep you under observation for fear you'd concussed yourself?"

Harry groaned. "Fine…suppose it's better than listening to Malfoy complain about you taking points, anyway. I can't believe you did that."

"I have warned him in the past about pushing foolhardy Gryffindors too far. What did he say about you that enraged Mister Thomas?"

Harry shrugged, wincing as Snape dabbed at his wound, cleaning it of the freely flowing blood. "Said something about me getting special treatment from you in return for sexual favors. I was too busy laughing to realize Dean had taken the comment as a personal affront."

Snape grunted a laugh, smirking. "I will have to have a discussion with Mister Malfoy about implicating his fellow Slytherins when he insults someone."

Harry chuckled appreciatively and they devolved into silence. Snape finished cleaning the wound and grabbed the laceration balm. He leaned in obscenely close as he began to slowly rub the salve into the relatively long gash along Harry's brow. Harry had to force his eyes to uncross, staring at the large nose nearly touching his.

"Severus, I…" There was a surprised, disapproving gasp. "Severus!"

Harry smirked as Snape scowled at the intrusion.

"What, Minerva?!"

"Ow! That hurts!" Harry pulled back as Snape rubbed his wound especially hard.

Now Snape smirked as he glanced into Harry's green gaze. "Then I recommend you cease moving."

Harry glowered, but bit his tongue. He hadn't moved. The Potions Master continued to smirk as he pulled away and began rifling through his medicine kit.

"Potter, what happened?"

Harry looked at his Head of House coming up the center aisle of the room. "Fight," He answered simply. "I got caught in the crossfire between Malfoy and Dean when I tried to pull them off each other."

"Is this true, Severus?"

Snape didn't look at the witch as he stepped in front of Harry again with a butterfly bandage. "Potter pulled them apart. As per my orders, they should both be in the Hospital Wing."

"So it's true," McGonagall said, astonished. "You took points from your own House. I never thought I'd see the day."

"It is not nearly the miracle you're making it out to be, Minerva," Snape told her as he was placing the bandage over Harry's wound, gluing the two halves of the gash together. The Wizarding Savior couldn't help a snort that earned him a flick to his wound, followed by a casual caress of the fresh bandage. "I've finished, Mister Potter. In the future, I recommend you try to better control your friends."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like that's possible. Thanks, Professor, for your help." He jumped off the stool and picked up his bag. "See you in class, Professor McGonagall." With a wave for his Head of House, Harry left the Potions classroom.