Harry shifted in his seat next to Neville, smiling softly at the shy boy as he slowed down his stirring. He felt Snape’s stare but thought nothing of it. The professor couldn’t do much worse than his own House already had. Neville sent a small grin back at Harry when his potion stopped bubbling.

“Very good.” Harry praised the boy, knowing that was the best way to help him improve and for information to stick, and then went back to his own simmering potion. It currently sat at the 3 quarter check point and just needed to simmer for about one more minute before Harry could put out the low flame underneath he cauldron and add the ground dragon claw to the mixture.

Neville sat staring at Harry’s potion with squinted eyes, humming softly under his breath, like he always did when he was thinking.

“What is it, Neville?” Harry murmured, keeping a close eye on the Potion Master, as the stern, constantly moving man did another circulation of the classroom.

“Since when are you so good at Potions?”

“Since everyone stopped thinking I was the Golden Boy, and I have had time to myself.” Harry muttered, a soft sneer in his voice. “Neville, just shut up, okay?” Neville nodded slowly, and looked down, hurt. Harry was almost moved to reconcile with him, but didn’t. At this point it was better to distance himself from anyone in his House.

He hoped.

At least if Neville stayed away from him, the other boy wouldn’t be an outcast any longer.

Twitching his wand, he extinguished the flame under the cauldron, then picking up the small bottle of ground dragon claw, he sifted through it to make sure it had not been tampered with and sprinkled it over the top of his potion. The effect was instantaneous, just as the text said it would be. The dark, Gryffindor red and gold of the potion changed to the true colours of Harry’s thoughts and feelings, silver and green.

Chuckling darkly at the irony, he ladled out some of the thin potion into a vial, stoppered it, and swished it around until it was clear. He had done everything right; from choosing the best of the available ingredients to perfect preparation and temperature, it was exactly as it should be. He looked up, no one else was done… Gits, the lot of ‘em! This was simpler than the Polyjuice potion! And even Hermione hadn‘t finished yet!

Harry Evanesco-ed the remaining contents in his cauldron, and put away his supplies. Then pulling out an extra bit of parchment, he wrote:

Harry had taken to writing down the events of his day, or more precisely, the events of his latest class and what the Professor of that class wanted from him. It kept him occupied, and gave him something to do in History of Magic other than fall asleep. Also, Poppy seemed to enjoy the little notes Harry took on each of his classes. She said it gave her a nice laugh sometimes. Most of the time when he took them he wasn’t attempting to make them funny, even though they did seem that way when he read them over with her. Harry glanced back up to the board and frowned, had the Professors writing always so resembled his?

“Done, Potter?”

When the hell did you get behind me!? “Yes, sir, I am.”

The lunch break was drawing to a close and as Harry finished the sandwich one of the house elves had provided his thoughts were drawn to what he would do about Herbology. It was necessary that each student worked with a different partner at each class meeting. At the last class Harry had worked with Neville, and the class before that he had worked by himself. He supposed he could see if he would be allowed to work by himself again, but the chances of Professor Sprout permitting that were very slim. Harry sighed. He’d wait and see. If he couldn’t, he could just slip away after role call and get the lecture notes from Neville.

Picking the lettuce from the remains of his sandwich, he nibbled on it and picking up the slice of bread to take to class with him. He’d finish it on the way to the Greenhouses. Dragging his book bag from under his chair he peered out the small, shaded window to make sure no one would see him appearing from his new room. He could just stand being chased from his common room, but to be chased of his only other true home would break him entirely. Seeing the coast was clear he slipped out the door and raced down the hall. Neville was always first to class to help Professor Sprout with setting up; he’d ask her when he got there if he could work alone again before anyone else arrived.

As he pulled around the corner and trotted down the hill to Greenhouse Four he saw a shadow following him. He pretended not to see it, but picked up his pace a little bit as it crept close to the wall near him. He decided that he wouldn’t turn to face whoever was following him. He’d either see a Gryffindor or a Slytherin, and he wanted to see neither at the moment.

“Hey, Potter, slow down a second. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Malfoy, great.

Harry spun around, catching his balance before he could fall, his wand in hand. Malfoy looked him up and down, grinning.

“So what’s this about you thinking I’m fit?”

Cocky, bastard!

Harry calmed himself, there was no point in starting a fight with the git. it’d just give Malfoy the satisfaction that the “great Harry Potter” was as weak as Lucius told him.

“I said no such thing, but… you seem taller. Did you grow over winter holidays?” Harry’s blunt, monotone voice caught the cocky Snake off guard for a few moments before he looked away, blushing.

“Yes, I did. Two inches. No one… No one else noticed.” Malfoy whispered, as if ashamed and hurt.

Harry’s heart suddenly ached to see that look on his—past—enemy’s face that he had seen so many times on his own when he looked in the mirror and saw the scars and mistakes that no one else truly seemed to.

“Look, you need a Herbology partner?” Harry suddenly asked.

“Yeah, but I was... never mind… If you’re really willing to risk your reputation even further. The Gryffs already think you’re already sleeping in my dorm.”

“Let them think what they want.” Harry muttered as he matched his pace with Draco’s towards the Greenhouses. “I was never really one of them anyway.”

He felt Draco’s look, but did not, and would not, elaborate.