Pyre13: Thank you, thank you! Time is a bit of a constraint, but I'll try to keep the quality same-ish.

BAFan: Thanks! I think I fixed that mistake.

"Good character is not formed in a week or a month. It is created little by little, day by day. Protracted and patient effort is needed to develop good character." ~Heraclitus

The Slytherin table was depressingly bare. As were the others to a somewhat lesser extent, now that Draco had the daring to look over at them. He wasn't entirely certain how many students had died in the battle. Four Slytherin students had managed to sneak away with Professor Slughorn and join to fight for the school against their kin and caste. The one that had survived had been welcomed in the ensuing celebration while the rest of the house either fled with their parents or remained locked in their dormitories. Draco wondered how many of the missing students from the other houses simply didn't have the courage to return to a school they had been tortured in and no longer trusted. A high percentage, he thought. As a member of the Inquisitorial Squad he had been responsible for a lot of it. That thought caused him to keep his eyes firmly on the table as much as reasonably possible.

Potter was the one who gave the opening speech. It sounded rehearsed to Draco's experienced ears, but the applause was thunderous nonetheless. He even had the gall to welcome the newly sorted Slytherins and tell some ridiculous fib about the hat wanting to put him there as well. The First Years' were comforted by it though and Draco found it hard to begrudge Potter the lie if it worked only a little in discouraging the social fallout among the student body that the Headmistress and Professors clearly anticipated. The Headmistress's speech followed and she impressed upon everyone the importance of carrying on, proving that Hogwarts was better now than it had been before, and stating quite clearly that there was to be no more of the torment that had taken place in years past. There would be legal ramifications for anyone caught doing so. Anyone.

Slytherin House only had one Head Boy – or girl, to be precise. Elethea Vorne was the survivor that had fought for the school alongside their Head of House. McGonagall would trust no other to oversee the house. It certainly didn't hurt that she bore a visual resemblance to Potter with spectacles and dark hair which she had been forced to cut short after a hex in the battle had made it catch fire. There had been more serious injuries to treat at the time, though, so she hid the resulting burns to save what potions Hogwarts had available for the seriously wounded. The eventual healing could not stop the scarring – Elethea had waited too long for the dittany to prevent it. Her entire right ear and a good inch or so of skin past her somewhat receded hairline was bright pink and shining scar tissue. She wore it like a badge of honor that proved her moral fiber.

Draco disagreed. She had killed her older sister in the fight, after all. It was true Fanelle had been almost as fanatical about the Dark Lord's cause as the average Lestrange, but there was no forgiving Elethea by Malfoy standards. Above all else they valued family. Family was everything.

And that is why he answered the curious looks thrown his way by those Slytherins he knew still had some fortune to spare with aloof interest. It's why he followed his house's Head Girl when she led everyone to the dormitory after the feast, and why he obediently trailed behind her as she then led him to his own private rooms. It was, after all, terribly inappropriate for anyone seeking or with a Guarantor to sleep in the common areas where just anyone would have contact with them. He wasn't even to socialize in the common room unless a chaperone was present. It was simply not done.

Her demeanor was cold toward him, as he suspected it might be. She had only been cheerful for the sake of the first years. Now that she was alone with Draco it was like walking behind a stone golem. The only real authorities in his own house would be an obstacle to his safety too, apparently. Elathea showed him the entrance, gave him the password and advised him to change it immediately, and turned briskly away.

It was in an inauspicious piece of wall in a large corridor near the highest parts of the dungeons. Tapestries hung all along both walls in various scenes from the school's history. Of course the one that hung in front of his chamber's door depicted a duel between Slytherin himself and Rowena Ravenclaw just before he had left the school over his purist beliefs. Compared to the portraits Draco was accustomed to seeing move all the time the needlework was eerily still and gave the whole scene a sense of indifference that chilled him. When he spoke the password nothing visible happened to the tapestry, but he did as he had been instructed and walked into the center of it as if it did not exist.

Via the same spells that caused the wrought iron gates of Malfoy Manor to let visitors through by momentarily turning to smoke, the tapestry allowed him through as if he were a ghost. Once inside he turned and noted with some dread that, indeed, there was the tapestry and nothing else separating him from the rest of the castle. It hung in an arched doorway with no actual door in it. He dearly hoped there was no door because it was not needed, but would not get his hopes up. If nothing else he would seal the entryway with alarms and shields before he slept at night.

His rooms were far from impressive. Technically there was only one divided into areas by function and one set of crudely built walls. There were no windows, which sometimes happened in castles, and the bed area in the back left corner was smaller than his walk-in closet in the Manor where he had slept upstairs. It wasn't even a proper room either – just a square area with no dividing wall. Against the back wall of it was a massive beast of a four-poster bed with violet bedding. It was probably only a queen size, but the place it had been stuffed in made it look far larger than it really was. In fact there was nothing else in that area – he doubted anything else would fit. Even his trunk had been put out in the main living area. If Draco were a stockier build he wouldn't have been able to get between the posts and the wall to climb onto the bed from the proper side. What possessed them to put the bed there he had no idea but he was bloody well moving it.

The front room was at least sufficiently sized to hold its contents. At one time a room like this would have been used to house a Professor's entire family; back when there had been chamber pots instead of toilets and cooking had been done in the fireplace rather than in stoves. There were only four main areas to speak of, one of which was the frustratingly tiny bathroom that had been poorly walled off some time ago to separate it from the rest of the spaces.

To his right was a fireplace. Inside it Draco could see the cast-iron pot hooks attached to the inner wall and a cauldron that had definitely seen better days off to the side on the floor. He doubted he would use them for cooking, but both would be helpful for brewing if he decided to do some of his potions assignments in private rather than study hall. Across from the fireplace were two ancient chairs that would need to be covered if not reupholstered and a small round table between them as a sitting area.

To the left of them was an entire wall of empty shelves (discounting the cobwebs and discarded candle bits) and an old heavy desk flanked by massive standing iron candelabras resembling angry looking winter trees. They rose up from the floor on root-like bases and each would hold seven full taper candles; easily providing enough light to work by in darkness. Clearly Draco had been given an old Professor's quarters that had not been used in quite some time. It looked the sort of stern, depressing place where one surrounded oneself with textbooks and graded papers long into the night. By the looks of things it had been arranged by the sort of person who saw sleep as a minor inconvenience and only allowed a bed in their living space out of necessity.

Draco allowed himself a low sigh and walked in further, only to find there were no carpets on the stone floors. To have even a miniscule amount of comfort in this place he would have to request some, though he doubted they would come, or constantly wear his shoes. Everything smelled dusty and slightly damp, and everything moderately close to the chimney was covered with soot – the flu must have been left open one winter and cold wind had blown it all down. It was all very depressing.

He did not, however, think his room being unkempt was deliberate. Some areas of the castle were still in tatters. Repairs were still actively going on, and many of the older students who had the skills had volunteered their private time and study halls to assist through until winter. The main Common Rooms and dormitories were clean and orderly or the elves would have ironed their fingers off, but it was difficult for them to get to everything. And a lot of the elves had died in the battle as well; there weren't as many of them to do the work anymore. The corridors and some of the rooms Draco had passed through thus far looked as if they had been neglected in favor of more important areas. His rooms must simply be one of those places the Elves hadn't got to yet. He wouldn't have doubted it if the elves were all scrambling to get the classrooms done tonight.

He resented it anyway. He had never slept in such filth when he could help it and wasn't about to do it now, even if he had to fix the situation on his own. Though it had taken her some time to remember them, his mother had taught him every household charm she knew before he left, on his insistence. Draco was not going to sit here on the musty chairs by soot-covered hearth and store his books on dusty shelves pouting over how hard his life was going to be at school – he had the ease of it. He was going to be fed, under relatively secure guard, and getting the education he needed. His parents were going to have a difficult winter; Draco would be fine. He would bloody well make sure of it. Yes, things were hard, but he didn't have to wait like a child for someone else to fix his problem.

Besides, there was no way he could entertain a Guarantor in this dorm. It would be insulting and Draco could not afford insults now.

He took a breath, drew his wand, and aimed steadily at the hearth. The first thing he needed was a fire, which required sweeping the area first. Then he would clean the shelves and put his books and things safely out of the way before he attacked the rest of the place as if its very existence appalled him, because it did. And he would continue attacking it until it stopped doing so.

One benefit of a private dorm was that you could do what you liked with the arrangement. It took him all night to get it in acceptable order and he had not slept whatsoever, but Draco wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway without a proper door between him and a dangerous environment. Still, he was actually looking forward to returning to his dorm room tonight. The tiny bathroom still bothered him, but it had sturdy plumbing and was close enough to the fire that he could leave the door open and take hot baths in a warm environment, which he had done already this morning, so he accepted that one drawback with grace. As for the rest of it… he had cast so many grime and dust destroying charms that he honestly believed the stones in that room were now an entirely different color than they were in the rest of the castle – it looked like they had just been quarried.

The bedding was also a different shade now, but slightly faded violet was better than dirty violet. He had turned the previous bed area into a reading area. It took some time and effort and a lot of concentration, but he managed to pull that bed out of its preposterous hiding place. Luckily the wall of shelves had been four individual bookcases instead of one built-in feature, allowing him to move three of them to the new reading area and place one beside the entryway to his dorm. He completed the area with the two chairs and little table that had been in front of the fireplace. The shelves carried nothing but his sparse schoolbooks now, but a Guarantor was likely to get him more upon request, and Slughorn would likely lend him any potions manuals he asked for. The last shelf he kept to the side of his frighteningly unprotected doorway – he would put it in front of the opening and ward it every night.

As Professors were wont to do at the first opportunity the previous owner of this room had demanded a justifiably comfortable chair to work by night in, and it was just as stately as the desk that was unfortunate enough to have been in Draco's way. As a result Draco now had a quality (once cleaned) leather chair to set in front of the fireplace to read in when he needed to do so warm. It also served two more purposes; serving to somewhat separate the stark bathroom walls from the gorgeous stone around them, and to face the entryway so that Draco could get a good hex off if need be on short notice. In fact – everything about the room was designed for that. Unless he was in the loo he would be able to aim at the door no matter where he was resting at the time. To that end he would have to keep the curtains on his four-poster open unless he feared he would freeze otherwise.

The bed's arrangement, Draco had to say, was brilliant. It took up the whole of the wall adjacent the fireplace and was widely flanked by the surprisingly attractive candelabras now that they were stocked and lit. He could move the chair away from the hearth at any time and have fire all around it. Once the bookshelf was solidly in place in front of the tapestry opening he would feel safe enough to give in to distraction and relax here. The candles and fireplace glow would provide lovely lighting on all areas of the bed while he studied or did anything else there.

This was no longer an office that happened to begrudgingly have a bed in it: it was a bedroom with comfortable places to read and chat. The only issue was learning which his future Guarantor would prefer as the more common area to interact, fireplace or reading area, so that he could move the matching pair of chairs to that spot.

The one thing he had no use for was the old desk. Draco did most of his schoolwork lying on his bed anyway and it was a large item in a small space. He had summoned an elf to bring candles for his odd candelabras and to come and take it away. The elf had succeeded at the first task, but not the second. He apologized and said they were too busy at the moment to do so, though they would get to it as soon as reasonably possible. These were not his elves to threaten and hadn't the energy regardless, but the refusal had been unacceptable. Instead Draco solved the problem by shoving the desk out into the corridor so the elves would have no choice but to move it before everyone woke up and saw it there. When he had come back out this morning it was predictably gone.

It was a small victory, but something sufficient for him to smirk about as he headed to breakfast; tired yet pleased with the progress he had made. He didn't need many of his mother's glamours to cover the bags under his eyes, but he used them anyway. It wouldn't do to look unattractive at this crucial time.

"Why are you doing this? Stop!"

The voice sounded distressed and, as he always did, Harry rushed toward it. He had merely been on his way to dinner in the Great Hall when he'd sidetracked to visit Hagrid first. How many times was he going to have to rescue students from each other before they realized the war was bloody over?

"Let me leave! I have no quarrel with you!"

Harry rounded a corner just in time to see… three first year students that had cornered a little white snake. They were poking at it with sticks and generally being cruel while it tried frantically to find an opening to get away. Occasionally it would hiss and strike… but it was a grass snake. It had no venom and the strikes were false and done with a closed mouth. For a moment he hesitated. It was just a snake and he doubted the little prats were going to hurt it, really. Then again it was hard to ignore any creature begging for mercy in a language he could understand whether it was humanoid or not.

He walked toward them at a less hurried pace, somewhat worried now that it had stopped talking. Once he arrived he saw why.

"You poked it too hard," accused the girl. She was disturbed by the blood coming out the snake's mouth and nose. It had curled over onto its back and proceeded to play dead instead of striking, since that course of action obviously wasn't working.

"I didn't! It just…" one of the two boys argued meekly.

"It's a grass snake," Harry said. They whipped around guiltily and dropped their sticks. He could tell they were sorry so he didn't start yelling, though he could see in their eyes the moment they recognized his face.

The girl squirmed. "We didn't mean to hurt it, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. "I know. Grass snakes have the ability to make blood come out like that when they play dead. It's just pretending to be really hurt so that you lot would leave it alone."

"That's a dirty trick," the boy that had thus far been silent complained coldly. "We were just having a bit of fun. Besides; it's a snake. They're all nasty things."

"No, you were tormenting a creature that couldn't fight back," Harry corrected sternly. "And that 'dirty trick' is a defense, not something it was doing to trick you. You all know I'm a Parselmouth, right?" They nodded. "I came because I heard someone begging. I thought a student was being tortured because when I hear Parseltongue I hear it as plain English in my head. I really can't tell the difference between a snake in trouble and a person at first. Reason being… they're alive. They think and feel and fear just like we do. So it really isn't fair of you to have been playing with it like that. It didn't know you were playing." When they ducked their heads under the force of his lecture he relented and spoke more gently. "And not all snakes are bad. Each one is different just like all people are different. You can never tell who somebody is until you get to know them."

They all looked sorry except for the cold-voiced boy, who merely looked guilty. He was probably the instigator of this little 'play' session against the snake. "Should we apologize or something?" the girl asked.

"It can't understand you, so I don't think that would help. I'll explain for you, alright? Just try to think before you play with anything again. This snake wasn't dangerous, but others might be. You could really hurt yourselves if you bother something that can really fight back. Besides that it isn't fair to the animals either; they deserve respect too."

They mumbled apologies and such before heading off to dinner, at which point Harry crouched next to the snake. It was still belly-up and very still, but the blood had stopped flowing now.

"They're gone now," he hissed gently. "I'm sorry they scared you." It took a while, but eventually the snake turned back up again and regarded him warily. "I won't hurt you. They didn't mean to hurt you either; they just didn't understand how badly they were scaring you."

"Then they are either cruel or stupid," it snapped. "I suppose I should thank you."

Harry couldn't help smiling. "You suppose you should thank me?"

"I wasn't in any real danger, was I?"

*You snarky ungrateful little…* Harry thought in amusement. Normally this sort of disregard for his help made him frustrated, but the little thing was just too impossible to be mad at when it really looked so injured. "I don't think so. Try to stay out of the courtyard from now on and they won't catch you again. Young people can be mean without realizing it."

"You are leaving me here?" it asked plaintively. "I cannot hide like my brethren. They are not so obvious!"

Harry took in the stark white body and how the blood stood out so drastically on its face; it really did stand out like a lighthouse. Being an albino snake in a world where everything was trying to eat you couldn't be easy. Predators should have been able to see it for miles. "How did you survive until now looking like that?"

"I hide very well," it insisted. Then it added, sheepishly, "Until today."

"I suppose someone should look out for you, then. Do you need a friend?" Harry paused. Parseltongue was a language composed of very few syllables and the few combinations of them meant completely different things depending on where you placed the emphasis. The closest he had gotten to the word 'friend', as it generally didn't exist for snakes (who are for the most part solitary creatures), was the term for a stone suitable for shelter from predators.

If it were possible for a snake to do so, it looked as incredulous and frustrated as Snape before deducting House Points. "You want to be my Shelter Stone?"

"I'm trying to say I can defend you if you need it, and that your color won't be a bad thing if you stay with me," he explained in more depth. It would be terribly rude to ask it to be his pet, because snakes DID know what that meant and it would probably be very offended. "I'll make sure you're fed and warm. I like having someone only I can talk to. No one else I know can speak the tongue of snakes."

A spark seemed to pass between them, then, and the snake lifted its head a little. "Ah. You are solitary and do not want to be."

"Yes." Close enough at least. There was no word for 'lonely' either.

"I will stay with you," it said, as if it were granting Harry an enormous favor and not the other way around.

Harry smiled and bent to offer his hand. The snake hesitantly crawled onto it and further up his arm when he did nothing but wait patiently for it to get comfortable. The snake was young; only a foot long or so. Fully grown a grass snake could reach more than three feet from head to tail. "Are you ready? Would you like me to clean the blood off you?"

"Yes," it said in a tone that meant it twice.

"Are you a male or female?"

"Why? Does it matter?"

"No, but my- the others will be curious." He neglected to mention he wanted to avoid calling the snake 'it' anymore because he found it demeaning.

Harry's friends did not handle him bringing a snake to their tower well.

"I thought you said you weren't a Parselmouth anymore," Ginny said flatly.

Harry winced. "I never actually said that, everyone just sort of assumed-"

"You lied," Hermione corrected him. "Not telling the whole truth is just as bad as lying, you know that."

"What harm was there?" he demanded. "It isn't the sort of thing a Gryffindor likes to broadcast, having a trait most often attributed to Purist Founders and Dark Lords!"

Ginny sighed and rubbed her temples. "This is one reason we broke up. You like to have so many bloody secrets."

Harry bristled. "Having a single solitary thought that I don't immediately share with you does not make me insular; it's what separates me from you and that mad woman who yells at the pigeons outside Ollivander's!"

"He's got a point," Neville said quietly. Ginny glared at him and he shrugged. "You're a bit demanding."

"Are you complaining?" she asked worriedly.

"No," said Neville, who had been dating her a while and honestly hadn't a problem with it. "It's just not a good suit for Harry, is all."

McGonagall, who had been watching them discuss it for quite some time, clapped her hands once to call for silence. "The issue here is that Mr. Potter would like to keep his pet-"

"Friend," he corrected, but she ignored him.

"-snake. Now, snakes are not listed in the allowed animals for students at the school. However, rats weren't either and two Messers Weasley were allowed to have one here." There was a moment while they all regretted it, too. "Grass snakes are neither venomous nor is it big enough for constriction to be an issue. The fact is that I really have no reason to deny his request if the presence of a snake in Gryffindor House does not offend too many of the resident students. It would be understandable after recent events, but unfortunate for Mr. Potter."

Something in the conversation must have tipped off the snake, which squeezed his arm warningly.

"This isn't your den alone?" the snake asked angrily. "Then why did you bring me here without asking first? I could have been eaten by one of the others before you had time to explain!"

True, that was what usually happened when snakes were involved; but these were humans and Harry thought the assumption a bit insulting of his friends. "I don't think they'd-" Harry began, but it was too late.

The snake lifted his head fully off Harry's arm and hissed irately, "You [one who bites one's own tongue due to lack of forethought]!"

"Oi." Harry blinked.

"What?" Ginny asked, concerned.

"I think he just called me an idiot," Harry said.

The tension in the room snapped like a bowstring.

"I changed my mind," Hermione said instantly. "I like the snake. It can stay."

"Me too," Neville added with a smirk.

Ginny snorted lightly and raised her hand, "It won't bother me at all."

"It's very pretty," Luna agreed. "Albino snakes are rare in nature-"

"You're not even in this house! When did you get here, and who let you in?" Harry demanded, rounding on her sourly.

She smiled wistfully at him. "May I hold it?" she asked, immediately making the phallic joke everyone had been thus far avoiding.

"No." He suddenly found himself the target of humor while everyone emphatically agreed they liked the snake now that they knew it insulted Harry. "You're all wretched," he complained under his breath.

That only encouraged them to continue until the Headmistress relented. McGonagall was visibly trying not to laugh, but quickly regained her composure. "Oh, alright. Since there are no further objections you may keep the snake, Potter; but it counts as your one allowed animal. Every student has to follow the same rules here. I cannot make any special exceptions for you."

That meant that he wouldn't be allowed an owl. He thought about that for a moment and decided he wasn't ready for another bird anyway; no bird could replace Hedwig and, if he had to be honest with himself, the snake being the same snowy color as her made him like it even more. Harry nodded. "Yes, Headmistress. I understand. Thank you."

"Everyone stopped making angry noise. What just happened? Tell me!" the snake demanded.

Harry sighed. "The agreement is that you can stay."

"Why did they change their minds so quickly?"

"To aggravate me."

The snake relaxed and seemed to melt into his sleeve again. To Harry's growing dread, this seemed to please him immensely. "Ah. I will, then."

He began to suspect that his new friend was a bit of a berk. Accounting for recent events, though, that wasn't too much different from his other friends. Harry was still while the snake made his way up to Harry's neck and settled there like a choker. He sighed and went off to bed, wondering when his new companion would demand to be fed.

I am aware that Draco's dorm rearranging was likely tedious to read for many people, but I felt it necessary to illustrate how much he has learned over the break. The old Draco would have complained about the elves not having all that done before he arrived until he was either punished or sent an elf just to shut him up. Instead it occurred to him to do it himself. That is enormous character development.