It seemed like every day was a grain of sand, and Harry could feel every single one sliding through his fingers.
Case in point: it was Thursday before he could even make it to the Library again. Sure, he'd had homework, and the books he'd checked out were all well and good... but still...
Was it sad that the primary thing he missed about Gryffindor was nobody watched him all the time?
That... wasn't true. Not really.
But he didn't want to admit how much he missed his friends. Particularly when he hadn't so much as made one friend here and now. Allies, yes - Nott would occasionally send him strange looks, even as Nott and Blaise kicked up a storm well away from Mr. Malfoy and his goons.
Harry'd managed to trail after a sixth year Slytherin, who'd been heading up to the library. He'd behaved as Harry'd expected, "Library? Yes, now step quick, I won't be late because you're along with me." And, Harry thought, as was typical, no real "I'll take you back afterward."
If the library wasn't such a common destination, Harry would have negotiated more. As it was, he just stepped quick. He remembered being a sixth year, with all the work that entailed. Looking after klutzy first years would just be a distraction.
Besides, Harry was generally of the opinion that he could look after himself.
He pulled out some History books (half for show, half for reading), stacked them in an amusing fashion on his table, and started reading. Luckily for Harry, nobody joined him at the table.
The sun was starting to set, the evening was growing late.
Harry could see Hermione, sitting in a windowseat, the sunset in her hair. It made him feel nostalgic... and in need of a break.
Well, no time like the present, Harry thought, gathering his courage.
"Hey, long time no see," Harry said, approaching Hermione with a bright smile.
"Um, hi." Hermione said, looking up at him with a slightly, but visibly confused look to her face.
"Bet you're wondering why I'm over here talking with you." Harry said, stretching his arms. "I could use a break, honestly." Harry knew Hermione, and it was best to tweak her curiosity.
"A break from what?" Hermione asked.
"My house," Harry said with a sigh. "The house of the ambitious," he continued with a bit of an eyeroll, "can be so exhausting..." There, he'd dangled the hook if she wanted to complain about her own house.
"I'd have figured you'd want to sit with all the other Slytherins..." Hermione said, a bit waspishly.
"Whot?" Harry said, "Don't tell me you've been drinking up all that Slytherins Are Evil nonsense - It's bigotry, plain and simple." Harry knew Hermione, knew that she'd found bigotry unpalatable whereever she'd found it.
"You should tell that to your friend Malfoy then," Hermione said, turning her nose in the air. Harry hadn't thought people actually did that. In fact, maybe they didn't, and Hermione didn't know any better than she did.
Harry plunked his butt down on the bit of the windowseat that Hermione wasn't using - aiming to look like Peter Pan. "Oi, and that'd be just brilliant, wouldn't it? Malfoy and his goons would have another kid to hate - and I'm in his House, no less."
Hermione's face visibly fell.
"Didn't say I wouldn't do it, mind." Harry hastily continued, "for a friend."
Hermione looked up, and said in a small voice, "Why would you want to be friends with me?"
"Taste of home, if nothing else," Harry said, silently thankful that they were eleven and that wouldn't come across as something... weird.
"But... I'm a muggleborn." Hermione said.
"And I'm Harry Potter, formerly known as The Freak of Privet Drive," Harry Potter said, his smile razor-edged. "I ain't exactly from around here, Toto." Harry didn't even try for the American accent. The words would do as well, it was like a private handshake.
"How in the world did you get sorted into Slytherin?" Hermione asked, with a delighted smile.
"Beats me. Something about me being destined for greatness." Harry shrugged, "People say a lot of stupid things about me, perhaps you've noticed?"
Hermione smiled, "So you haven't wrestled a troll?"
Harry smirked, "Not yet, at any rate."
Hermione extended her hand, "Friends?"
Harry smiled back, grasping her hand in a firm grip. "Friends!" And if Malfoy wanted to make an issue of this, Harry would make an example out of him.
"Prefect," Snape snapped, "My office, now." He turned from the common room, with every expectation that she would follow. His 7th year prefects were selected with care, and they knew not to cross him.
"What's your report on the third years?" Snape asked, settling in to take mental notes as she went on. It was a transparent ruse to get her to relax her guard, and it was working. He'd have to teach her better than that, of course. But for now, he'd just take advantage - some people were capable of learning from the school of hard knocks.
"I have a special assignment for you," Snape said, watching the girl straighten her back where she stood. "Mister Potter has not had a bite of red meat for the past six days. He's barely touched the chicken, even. It's your job to make sure he eats properly."
"But sir!" she said, looking flustered.
"Slytherin is a family, and families look out for one another, from the least to the greatest." Snape snapped. "Am I understood?"
She nodded, still looking vexed.
"You may feel free to blame the order on me, of course," Snape quirked his lips, in a way that would never be mistaken for a smile.
"Thank you, sir." she ground out.
Snape lived to make life difficult on his underlings. He tended to call such 'little difficulties' 'learning opportunities.'
[a/n: Whether or not Harry is capable of making an example of Malfoy, Harry will make it happen anyhow. Eventually.
Snape continues to be Snape. He does find it funny that he doesn't have to chide Potter about eating vegetables, but instead meat.
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