At around 7:15 the next morning, light from a small, high window at the top of the bedroom (the window shouldn’t really have been there as this was a literal dungeon but it was in a magical castle, so let’s ignore that fact) onto the sleeping Harry’s face.  The teen grimaced in his sleep and threw up an arm to cover his face, mumbling something in Parseltongue.

A few minutes later, his arm slipped down and the bright sunlight tried to burn holes into his eyelids.  Harry, growling something about getting some stone and mortar, sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking about.

He was still in his father’s bedroom on the man’s bed.  Which either meant the Potions Master had slept on the couch or had not come down to his rooms at all during the night.

Harry sighed and got up, using a few flicks of his wand to straighten the rumpled covers and return the blanket to its place on the trunk at the end of the bed.  He then headed out into the main room, yawning widely before he reached for the familiar bell pull (that was attached to nothing as far as he could tell) and gave it a sharp tug.

Dobby appeared and instantly leapt bodily onto Harry.

“Harry Potter!  Dobby is so happy to see you’s!”

“You too, Dobby.  Now, if you wouldn’t mind…your cutting off my circulation.”

“I is sorry, Harry Potter,” said Dobby as he slid to the floor.

“S’alright,” said Harry, smiling at the house-elf.

“Is Harry Potter looking for his father?”

“Yes.  Do you know where he is?”

Dobby shook his head.

“Dobby had not seen Professor Snape.  Dobby had not seen Professor Snape since Harry Potter stayed with him.”

Harry sighed and said, “Thank you, Dobby.”

“Would Harry Potter like something to eat?”

“No, thank you.  I just go up to the Hall.”

“All right, Harry Potter.  Dobby will keep an eye out for Professor Snape.”

Harry smiled at the crazily dressed house-elf and said, “I’d appreciate that.”

Dobby beamed in response then disappeared with a crack.

Harry sighed heavily then heard a crash suddenly through the wall.

“Ow…  Damn desk…  HARRY!”

The teen groaned and walked over to one of the bookcases, reaching up and pulling out a false book.  The bookcase turned sideways and Harry replaced the book, walking into the dark tunnel behind it before the case returned to its former position.

As Harry walked, he could hear the voice in the Potions classroom still ranting.

“HARRY!  HARRY, WHERE ARE YOU!?”

Finally reaching the end of the tunnel, Harry ran his hand along the wall, searching for the raised stone his father said was there.  When he found it, he depressed it and watched as the wall slid open, revealing the dark Potions classroom.  Entering, he spoke the words that would instantly light the torches in the room and saw Niamh sitting on the floor in the center, rubbing one of her knee’s, which had what looked to soon be a bruise.

“Y’know,” he said, causing the girl to jump, “it’s not nice to just barge in somewhere without being invited.”  He looked at the lock pick that was tucked above Niamh’s ear and added, “And it’s also not nice to steal my extra lock pick.”

Niamh glared at him and growled, “Well, I wish you’d come and told me where you were going last night.  I was worried!”

“I was waiting for Da.  He never came down and I ended up falling asleep in his rooms.”  He arched an eyebrow at her and chuckled.  “Did you perhaps think I was hiding in the classroom?”

Niamh rolled her eyes and said, “Sometimes I don’t know what to think of you, Harry.  Your as changeable as a switchblade.”

Harry smirked.

“I thrive on being changeable.”

Niamh snorted then moaned as she accidentally hit her bruised knee.  “Ow…”

“What’d you do?” asked Harry as he strode over and gently pulled her to her feet.

“Ran into the ruddy desk.  Can’t see in the dark.  Could you tell me the spell to light the torches?”

“No, you’d probably use it in class and get me skinned alive.  I’m the only one besides Dumbledore that knows how Da lights the torches.”

“How about how to get into his rooms so I don’t have to so searching for you anymore?”

Harry gave her a stern look and she shrugged.

“It was worth a try.”

“Indeed,” said Harry, sounding very much like his father.  “Now, I’m going to take you upstairs to the infirmary then go get some breakfast.”

“It’s just a bruise!  I can walk fine…oh shit!!”

Niamh had pushed herself away from Harry and as soon as her weight came down on her bruised knee is collapsed.  Harry managed to catch her before she hit the floor and pulled her back up, wrapping an arm about her waist and trapping her against his side.

“Ah, yes,” he purred, “you can walk as gracefully as a jungle cat.  A jungle cat with a thorn in its paw, that is.”

“Shut up, you devil, and get me upstairs.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

After dropping Niamh off with Madam Pomfrey, Harry headed to the Great Hall to grab some breakfast.  As soon as he entered, the Hall fell as silent as a tomb.  Harry, as he was wont to do, stalked over to the Slytherin table without his shoes making a sound.  He sat down at the end nearest the doors where no one sat and began to grab pieces of food at random, ignoring those staring at him.  After a few moments, the noise in the Hall went up again.

“Harry.”

Harry turned and looked at Hermione, who was standing nervously behind him.

“’Lo, Mione.  Have a seat.”

“I…”

“Sit,” said Harry sharply.

Hermione sat and Harry smiled grimly at her.

“Now…what’s all the jumpiness about, ‘cause your really setting me in a bad mood in it.”

“Sorry, Harry…er – Ron…”

Harry groaned, “What’s he done this time?”

“Er – well…”

“Well?  Well, speak up!”

Hermione flushed and Harry went, “Ah.  I see.  He thinks I entered myself, doesn’t he?”

Hermione nodded numbly and Harry sighed, closing his eyes.  He grumbled, “I thought last year was one time enough to go through this.”

“Harry…”

“Mione, please.  I’m really not in the mood.”

Hermione nodded and gently patted his arm before heading back to the Gryffindor table.  As soon as she was gone, a seventh year walked down to Harry and sat down across from him.

“Fraternizing with the enemy again, Potter?”

Harry looked up at the older boy with such a look of loathing that the seventh year pulled back a little.

“Fraternizing with the enemy?  Fraternizing with the enemy?”  Harry spat this out in a bitter tone, rising angrily from his seat as he did so.

“They’re Mudbloods and Muggle-lover’s, Potter,” hissed the seventh year.

“Ah!” said Harry loudly, earning the attentions of many in the Hall.  “So that’s how it is!  Mighty Slytherin: all above the other Houses, all the other people.  Well, let me tell you something, my dear Housemate, life’s not like that outside these walls.  Life is cruel, hard, and as vicious as a mother dragon.  Life doesn’t give a damn about what you are: Muggle, Muggle-born, Pureblood, Halfblood, Squib, Werewolf, Vampire, Gryffindor, Slytherin…  It doesn’t give shit about any of that!  Life is the cruelest thing you can go up against, even worse than Voldemort himself!!  And I should know, because I’ve met both of them!  And let me tell you, Housemate mine, that Voldemort would be a much better thing to face than life.  Why?  Because Voldemort doesn’t cause you to suffer for years upon years.  Certainly under Cruciatus you might suffer by his hand but by the time he’d be done, you’d be dead!  Life doesn’t do that.  Life puts you down, kicks you in the gutter, and it keeps you alive.  So don’t you talk to be about fraternizing with the enemy, you fucking asshole.  ‘Cause the only enemy I see here, is idiots like you!”

This tirade ended with Harry throwing his goblet at the seventh year then storming out of the Hall, rage practically emanating off of him.  Those who had been standing in the doorway listening to him moved hurriedly out of his way, their eyes wide and frightened.

Talk that morning turned from the Tournament to Harry Potter’s tirade and the sudden sheepish looks on some of the Slytherin’s faces as though they had just realized something.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Potter?”

“What the fuck do you want, Malfoy?” growled Harry.  He was sitting in his alcove again, Hedwig curled up by his feet.

Draco looked at the snake then up at Harry, who was glaring daggers at him.

“I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Then ask it and get the hell out of my face.”

Draco’s gray eyes hardened then he said, “Where did you get that scar?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the other boy, looking down at where his sleeve had rolled up to reveal one of his worse scars, a long wound that had been made by a sharp blade on the inside of his left arm.  The wound had come from a brawl between Argil’s band of thieving boys and another one.  It’d been a fight for territory, of where they could steal from.  Argil’s bunch had won, but they had lost the newest boy of their lot and Harry had ended up with that scar.

“Is that all you wanted to ask me, Malfoy?  If so, I am not amused.”

“No, it’s not, Potter.  But I happened to see it, and I wanted to know.”

“Really?  Well, let me tell you.  It came from a brawl.  And no normal brawl.  You see, Malfoy, unlike most people think, I didn’t grow up living a charmed life.  Oh no…  I grew up on the streets, raised by a man who only used the children he kept alive to pick pockets.  I grew up belittled, beaten, and without anyone who loved me.  Where’s that put me in your grand scheme of what the world looks like?”

There was a moment of silence as Harry finished then Draco spoke.

“It puts you pretty much in the same boat as me.”

Harry snorted, disbelieving.

“And how is that, Malfoy?”

“Because that’s the same way I grew up, you unfeeling bastard!”

“Is it?” snapped Harry, turning to his legs dangled down the wall.  “Are you a pickpocket, Malfoy?  Is your body as riddled with scars as mine?  Did a man who betrayed your parents to the worst Dark wizard of all time damn you to Hell for ten years?  Tell me, where you?”

“No,” said Draco softly.

Harry hopped down from the alcove, grabbing Hedwig and sliding her into his pocket.  His eyes blazed as he glared down at Draco.

“Then we are nothing alike, are we?”

As he turned to walk away, two hands grabbed him and spun him back around.  Harry was shocked to find Draco holding him tightly, his face twisted in rage.  And, if Harry read it right, grief.

“No, Potter, not exactly alike.  I’m not a pickpocket.  I probably don’t have as many scars as you.  But I was as damned as you by the fucking bastard who stole my father’s soul!!”

Harry stared in shock down at this boy, his fellow Housemate who had loathed him for years.  The boy who had, at eleven, killed an owl to get revenge.  But now…hell, Harry looked at him and he saw someone like himself, someone what had been battered and beaten down all their lives.

Shit.

Harry gently pulled Draco’s hands from his robes and looked down at the other boy.

“Maybe, Malfoy.  Maybe we’re the same in some ways.  Maybe one day we could become…friends of a sort.  But if you’re looking to apologize now, you’d better do better than that.  You killed an owl, a creature that’d done nothing to you to get revenge.  And I can never forgive you for that.  But, maybe – maybe – I could become the only real friend you’ve probably ever had in your life.  Think about it.”

Harry turned and began to walk off when Draco whispered, “You’re his son, aren’t you?”

“Who’s?” said the raven-haired boy, halting in his tracks.

“Snape’s.  You are, aren’t you?”

Harry turned partially to look coldly at Draco, eyes as cold as the emeralds they resembled.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because.  The way you act, talk, everything about you is like him.”

“Oh…really?  Perhaps its simply coincidence.”

“Don’t play with me, Potter!” yelled Draco.  “Tell me: are you or are you not?”

Harry smirked and said, “We’ll see, Malfoy.  You really want to know?  You really want to become something more than enemies?  ‘Cause we don’t need enemies.  I think you and I, we’ve got enough of those.  So, if you really want to know, change your attitude.  Generally I’m a forgiving soul.”  Harry laughed and added, almost to himself, “It’s the Gryffindor part of me.”

He then turned and walked off, leaving Draco alone in the hallway to think on what had been said.