Snape and Harry stood off to the side as McGonagall ushered her house into their common room, issuing instructions for the prefects to get everyone settled. A small red-headed boy-probably a Weasley, he thought.-and a bushy-haired girl tried to linger in the hallway, but Professor McGonagall was having none of it.

"But we're Harry's friends!" the Weasley boy protested as Professor McGonagall pushed him into the room.

"Night, Harry! See you-"

The portrait swung closed, muting the girl's voice.

Severus still had his hand on Harry's shoulder, and felt the boy tense up as Professor McGonagall turned her attention to them. He was pleased, however, to note that Harry's face had brightened considerably at the Weasley boy's words. He suspected that friendship was something Harry hadn't experienced much of in his life, and as much as he loathed teaching the Weasley brats, he knew that they were a very loyal, friendly bunch. And the girl-Granger, he remembered, from the few sortings he had paid attention to before focusing on Harry-she was a Muggle, so she probably had more of an inkling of Harry's uniqueness than any other student in the school.

It was a good thing. It meant Harry wasn't going to be alone.

"Professor Snape." said Professor McGonagall.

"Good evening, Professor," Snape said.

"Hello, Harry," said McGongall, bending down into the boy's line of sight.

Harry immediately turned his head to end the eye contact.

"Hello. My name is Harry. What is your name?" Harry asked.

Professor McGonagall stood up, a faint smile on her face.

"Harry, my name is Professor McGonagall, and I am your head of house."

The boy just stared somewhat blankly past her shoulder, resolutely avoiding all attempts on McGonagall's part to force eye contact.

"That means, Harry," she began, "that I am in charge of your well-being while you are here at school. Now, before I send you into Gryffindor Tower, I'd like to go over what we are going to be doing to make the transition from your old school to Hogwarts as painless as possible. Would that be okay?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Follow me. Severus, you may come, too, if you wish." And she started walking briskly down the hall towards what Snape could only assume was her office.

Snape smirked as Harry practically had to run to keep up, stumbling slightly as his feet caught on his robes as he went. He wondered if the boy would trip and fall, but he needn't have worried. By the time they reach McGonagall's office, Harry had seemingly mastered the fine art of running in wizard robes.

"Have a seat, Harry," she said, pointing towards one of two chairs in front of the desk. Snape wondered if she was going to sit behind the desk, but was surprised to see her instead take the seat opposite Harry. For his part, Snape sank into a small couch in the corner where he could observe the boy's face freely.

Professor McGonagall pointed to a plate of sandwiches sitting within arm's reach of Harry, and made sure he knew he was allowed to eat them. Snape lazily summoned a sandwich as well, amused at the look of awe Harry gave him.

Uncharacteristically, and he would never be sure quite why he did it afterwards, Snape winked at the boy, who smiled a shy smile before happily tearing into the pile of food.

He listened and watched as Harry struggled to take in all the information Minerva was throwing at him, but was pleased to see that McGonagall had a firm grasp on Harry, his differences, and the challenges he and the school would face together. He knew that the inattentiveness during the Sorting Ceremony would never happen again, and that Harry Potter would be protected and defended by his new housemates. It might take them a bit of getting used to Harry, but Snape knew the Gryffindor Head of House would swiftly and ferociously nip any negative behavior in the bud.

For his part, Snape knew he would be having a meeting with his House, as their behavior at the feast demonstrated an appalling lack of civility. He wouldn't demand they befriend the Gryffindor, but he would be damned if he would allow his house to torment the boy for being a bit different.

He was also curious to see the affect Harry Potter's rigid attention to rules would have on the normally unruly Gryffindor House. He could hardly see Harry willingly sneaking around the corridors after hours. He knew that the boy was obsessive about keeping time, too, and had the hardest time tolerating lateness or earliness or anything but exactness when it came being where he was supposed to be.

He watched as Harry absentmindedly played with the pocket watch Minerva had presented him. It was charmed to tell not only what time it was, but when and where his next destination was. If he was in the Gryffindor common room at 7AM, it would show Harry that he needed to be at the Great Hall for breakfast at 8AM. It was a simple way to easy Harry's anxiety about time as well as provide him with a constantly-updated look at his schedule-a schedule that would be changed only by his head of house herself.

"Now, in regards to classes-" Professor McGonagall trailed off as she realized Harry was not paying attention.

"Mr. Potter!" she snapped, causing the boy to startle and nearly drop his precious pocket watch. He shrank back in his chair.

"Sorry, Professor. You were getting boring is all, and I am rather tired." Harry said.

Snape allowed an eyebrow to raise at the boy's statement.

"Mr. Potter, it is not polite to tell someone they are boring you, and it is especially not acceptable to talk to a teacher in such a fashion," huffed McGongall.

Snape smirked. He liked the boy's bluntness, preferred it, actually. No guesswork to figure out where you stood in Potter's eyes.

"In which fashion, Professor?" Harry asked timidly, obviously aware he had done something wrong but wasn't quite sure what it was. "And can I go to bed, please? I normally go to bed at 9PM but it is 10PM already and I am tired."

His voice was now petulant, and Snape could tell he was nearing the end of whatever self-control he had left after such a trying day. Thankfully, McGonagall picked up on that as well.

What I meant, Harry," she said a bit more softly, "was that you need to be more respectful when talking to your teachers."

The boy looked confused.

"But I wasn't rude. I didn't call you old, even though you have grey hair," Harry said, clearly certain he was pleading his case well, not making it harder on himself. "It is rude to call people with grey hair old people, so I didn't. But you were boring. And I am tired. That is the truth."

Severus wanted to laugh at the look of shock and uncertainty on McGonagall's face. She sighed, and flicked her wand.

"I am sorry you are tired, Harry. I did not realize what time it was. Thank you for being patient."

Harry flashed her a brilliant smile.

"You are welcome, Professor," he said. "Can I go now?"

A knock on the door interrupted whatever Professor McGonagall had been about to say.

"Yes. You may go with Mr. Weasley. He is a prefect and you are to listen to what he tells you to do. Do you understand that, Mr. Potter?" asked McGonagal.

Harry nodded. He paused at the doorway, looking in Severus's direction.

Severus just watched the boy, not sure what was going on.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Harry said, again not quite making eye contact. And before waiting for a response, he scampered off to the door where he followed his house prefect down the hall. Snape listened as the boy's voice carried through the corridor. "Hi! My name is Harry. What is your name?"

The door closed and Minerva turned to him.

"He's taken to you, you know," she started.

Snape cut her off, suddenly impatient and ready for bed himself.

"I am aware. It is hardly surprising given what happened in the hall and during our walk in the halls."

He stared pointedly at McGonagall, who at least had the decency to look a bit ashamed.

"I can only hope that tomorrow everyone is ready for what will happen. We can plan ahead all we like, but children-" he snarled, remembering his own years at Hogwarts- "but children are unpredictable little monsters, and you and I both know that tonight was just a small taste of what will happen."

And with that, he stalked out of her office and down to his own, missing the understanding look that crossed McGonagall's face.