Harry clamped his mouth shut as he first eyed Severus's frustrated expression. Sirius stood next to the professor, a scowl on his face. Both were now ignoring each others' presence; they turned to look at Harry as the boy stepped out of the room. Sirius rudely elbowed past Severus, stepping just a little bit closer to Harry.

“Harry!” Sirius was slightly out of breath, Harry noticed, his cheeks a little flushed from arguing with Severus, but he had a rather puzzled expression on his face. “I'm here. What happened?”

Severus glared at the back of Sirius's head, then said to Harry, “You told Black to take you home? When was this?”

“After I left the Great Hall,” Harry mumbled. “It was before I changed my mind... but I am still staying!” Harry looked at Sirius apologetically. “I'm staying, Sirius. Thanks for coming, anyway.”

Sirius shook his head. “What happened?” he repeated. He looked over his shoulder at Severus, then back over at Harry.

Harry pushed his bangs out of his eyes, taking his time to answer Sirius's question. “It didn't go so great today,” he finally started slowly. “It was... difficult.”

“He ran out of the Great Hall,” Severus put in frankly, to Harry's dismay.

To Harry's surprise, however, Sirius didn't seem to care that he had 'ran' out of the Great Hall. Instead, he groaned, pulling Harry into a hug.

“And you wrote to me to take you home! I'm touched, Harry.”

Severus scowled, shaking his head. “I couldn't even begin to fathom why. Will you leave, Black? You've disrupted us for absolutely—”

“It's late,” Sirius interrupted, “I know, I know.” He put his hands on Harry's shoulders, looking Harry in the eye. “Are you okay, kid?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”

“That's all I need to hear.” Sirius stepped back, looking over at Severus with an annoyed expression. “I'm gone, I'm gone. You do have Harry's wand though, don't you? The wand from here, anyway.”

“I do,” Severus replied. “Now goodnight, Black.”

Sirius sighed, stepping into the fireplace. “Goodnight Harry. Get in lots of trouble for me.” He paused, giving Severus a sarcastically sweet look. “Goodnight, lovebug. Don't forget to write and keep me informed on everything that's going on.”

He was gone in green flames before Severus had a chance to say anything. Severus let out a sigh of relief, turning to Harry.

“All right, young man, back to bed.”

Harry let out a breath. “You know, I'm already up. Maybe we should get a glass of water in the kitchen?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Bed.”

“You could read me a bedtime story.”

“You're not a tiny child. Bed.”

Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat. He spun around, ready to make his way back into the bedroom, when a closed door next to Severus's bedroom caught his eye. What could that be? Out of all the rooms that Severus had showed Harry, he'd skipped that one. At the time, Harry didn't think much of it—in fact, he didn't think of it at all. But now...

“Sev,” Harry started, brow furrowed, “what's that?”

Severus followed his gaze. “That? A door.”

Harry looked up at Severus in exasperation. “I know that, but what's behind the door? What room is it?”

“My study,” Severus answered briefly. Then, after a second thought, he added, “Which you will never go into unless, for some reason, I allow you. Understood?”

Harry pressed his lips together, nodding in agreement. He walked into the bedroom, his eyes glued on the door to Severus's study as he went in. There must be something in there other than a desk and books to make it practically forbidden to go into, wouldn't there?

He crawled into the warm bed as Severus stood in the doorway, his hand curled around the doorknob.

“Aren't you going to tuck me in?” Harry questioned innocently before Severus had a chance to close the door.

Severus smirked, making his way over to Harry's bed in a few simple strides. He tucked Harry in, and the bed springs creaked as the mattress dipped a bit on the edge as Severus sat down. “Is this to your liking, Mr Potter?”

Harry's silly smile dissolved into a serious frown, pushing himself up a little higher so that his back rested against the backboard of the bed.

“Don't you remember when we were in Ireland that I told you it's Harry Snape now?”

“Yes,” Severus said after a moment's hesitation. “I just assumed....”

“Assume nothing,” Harry interrupted in a firm voice. He made sure to look Severus dead in the eye. “I'm well aware that I have no competition with the other Harry. That's right... isn't it?”

Severus scowled. “Don't be absurd.”

“There you go. I'm not going to try to make you love me as much as you loved him, and I think I'm very—”

“Hold on.” Severus raised his eyebrows. “There wouldn't be a need for that. I love you both in very different, very strong ways. There's no loving one more than the other. You should know that by now.”

“I just thought so because you'd raised him since he was just a little baby,” Harry said, frowning. “And he actually is your son.”

“That makes no difference. You know how I feel, is there any use to continue this conversation? I do believe you're just bringing this up again so you do not have to go to sleep.”

Harry licked his lips, continuing on steadfastly from where Severus interrupted him, “I think I'm very responsible to take on the Snape name. Unless you don't want me to be a Snape, then that's just fine with me. I suppose.”

“Oh, it is?” Severus leaned over, kissing Harry's forehead, then stood up. “Goodnight, Harry Snape. Tomorrow will be a better day, I promise. Get some sleep; I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Harry squirmed around, trying to get comfy as Severus started toward the door. “Just never forget that I'm me. Me. I don't want to have to constantly worry that you're mistaking me for someone else all the time.”

“You needn't worry,” Severus said softly. “I promise that I will never forget who you are.” Severus held the doorknob, pulling the door shut behind him.

--

The next day wasn't much better, no matter how much Harry wished it were. Severus had allowed Harry to miss breakfast in the Great Hall, letting him eat in the chambers instead. That was the only time Severus said he'd let Harry do that.

Herbology, which he had with the Slytherins, was an uncomfortable class. Again, there were whispers and stares from Harry's classmates, and Ron and Hermione were still a little uncomfortable around him—and, to top it off, he'd been getting strange looks from Draco Malfoy. Not glares, like he normally would've gotten, but... curious looks.

Harry didn't pay much attention in that class. He already remembered pretty much everything.

Then, of course, he had DADA. Again, with the Slytherins. Harry remembered the first DADA class in the other reality very well, too, and who taught it.

When Harry entered the classroom, Lockhart wasn't even there, and not many students had shown up yet. Very few were there. Harry sat in the front row, nervously glancing around before he did so. He doubted that Ron would sit next to him, or even Hermione. He doubted that anyone would.

He was a pariah, wasn't he?

The class was filling up. No one dared sit next to him. Then, to his pure, utter amazement, someone took the empty seat next to him. Harry immediately turned his head to the side, startled to see that the person had been Draco Malfoy.

Harry's mouth fell open. He tried to form a word—even a sentence—but his voice failed him at that moment. Draco looked at Harry, frowning at the boy who was gaping at him.

Finally, Harry managed to whisper, “You've got to be kidding me.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Do you want me to move?”

Did he? So far, Draco had—oddly enough—been the only person who was truly nice to him, and didn't act as if he was some sort of... well... freak. Draco had been the only one who spoke to him like he was normal—he even seemed to get a little frustrated with Harry—and he didn't openly gawk.

Thankfully.

“You can stay, if you'd like,” Harry found himself saying. “Thanks.”

Draco nodded, taking out his quill. As Ron and Hermione came into the classroom, Harry watched Ron shoot Draco a confused look. Draco just made a face, shrugging the boy off. There was no disgust between them; no hatred. It was... weird.

Ron and Hermione sat behind Draco and Harry as Gilderoy Lockhart swept into the room, flashing them all a dazzling smile. He wore a dazzling blue cloak, which he most likely chose because it made his own eyes appear just a bit brighter.

“Ugh, who is this oaf?” Draco whispered to Harry, making a face as if he smelt something terribly rotten.

“Gilderoy Lockhart,” Harry muttered.

“Yes,” Lockhart said loudly. He must've heard Harry. Lockhart bobbed his head up and down, peering down at Harry. “It is I. Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Merlin, third class. Five times winner of Witch Weekly's most... charming smile award.” He smiled another smile, as if to prove it. Harry tried not to make a face similar to Draco's. “And you,” Lockhart continued, eyes back on Harry, “are Harry Snape. Oh yes, I've heard all about you.”

“That's brilliant,” Draco snapped, lip curled. “Thanks for introducing him. We honestly needed that.”

Lockhart's eyes flickered onto the blond beside Harry, who couldn't help but stare in his own shock at the outburst.

“What's your name?”

“Draco Malfoy,” Draco replied bitingly.

“Draco Malfoy,” Lockhart murmured. “Yes, yes... well... I should take points off for your mouth, Mr Malfoy, but since it's the first day I'll go easy on you.” His eyes moved back onto Harry once again, this time only for a split second, before he clapped his hands and addressed the rest of the class. “All right! Class, do I have a treat for you today!”

Harry watched, blasé, as Lockhart moved over to the cage covered with cloth. He made the same big speech that Harry had heard before, only this time Harry managed to see Draco fidget a little nervously in his seat. He had to hide an amused smile, especially with what was to come—which was, honestly, nothing as spectacular as Lockhart was making it seem like.

When Lockhart finally lifted the cloth, Draco snorted. “You're kidding,” he whispered, scowling at the sight. “Pixies?”

Lockhart eyed the class silently, letting them drink in the pixies, which were locked in a cage. It looked like he was trying to impress them—but Harry knew for a fact that no one in the class was very impressed.

“Let's see what you make of these blighters, shall we?” Lockhart's hand, the one holding his wand, moved toward the cage.

Harry immediately raised his hand, ignoring the stares of the people around him. He was becoming accustomed to that.

“Sir,” he said, “maybe you shouldn't let them out of their cage.”

“Not to worry, Mr Snape,” Lockhart said brightly. “They may be intimidating to you, but I assure you, with me here no harm can befall anyone in this class. I have everything under control.”

“But sir,” Harry insisted, “I don't think you should let them out of their cage.”

Lockhart shook his head, a smile on his face. “Oh, Mr Snape, I'm sure after everything you've been through, a few pixies are nothing.”

But Harry was already putting away his things. He gave Draco a look, one which Draco quickly deciphered, and collected his things, too. The class looked on in confusion, most likely wondering what was going on. Lockhart watched them in just as much confusion.

“What are you—?” Lockhart frowned as Draco and Harry quickly walked out. “Mr Snape! Mr Snape—Mr Malfoy, come back here! Mr Snape! Mr—oh dear.”

Harry could hear the class start to shriek as the pixies were let out of their cage. Draco was close behind him, and they stopped speed-walking when they were well down the corridor.

“How'd you know they'd do that?” Draco asked as they stopped, trying to catch his breath. He let out a short laugh.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, not quite sure if he should be telling anyone that he'd already been through his second year. What could honestly come from telling anyone? Draco did, however, know that he'd originally been thirteen instead of twelve, but... just to be safe, anyway.

“Just a guess,” he answered, hoisting his rucksack over his shoulder. “So, erm....”

Draco looked around, pursing his lips. He looked at a loss for any decent conversation. “So... are you going to Quidditch practice today?”

“Quidditch?” Harry repeated, surprised. “I'm on the Quidditch team?”

Draco nodded enthusiastically. “You have been since first year. I'm trying out, as well, this year. What would you say to a little friendly competition?”

Harry tried to return Draco's grin, but he failed miserably. “I dunno. It's not really me on the Quidditch team here, is it?”

Draco frowned. “Were you on your Quidditch team?”

“I have been since my first year, too.”

“Talk to Professor Snape about it,” Draco suggested, looking impressed. “After lunch, that's when practice is. He can talk to someone about it, can't he? You must be brilliant on a broom just like Harry here was.”

Harry turned red. “Maybe.”

--

Harry sat alone again at lunch. Ron and Hermione had—after offering him weak, uncertain smiles—sat down on one side of him, but they didn't speak. They tried to; Harry could tell that they'd tried. But they gave up.

Just as Harry was about to get up and leave, Draco sat down on the other side of him, looking absolutely indifferent—as if sitting down at the Gryffindor table was a completely normal thing to do. Was it normal here? Draco didn't even look at anyone until Ron leaned over Harry and said to Draco in a horrified whisper, “Blimey, what are you doing?”

Harry guessed it wasn't normal, then.

“Eating,” Draco replied lightly.

“At the Gryffindor table?” Ron glanced around the Great Hall. “People are staring, mate.”

Draco shrugged. “Do you think I honestly care?” He looked at Harry. “Have you talked to Professor Snape yet, Harry? Harry?” Draco frowned when Harry didn't answer him. “Harry?”

What could Harry possibly say? That this was such an unbelievably uncharacteristic thing for Draco Malfoy to do? Something that he'd dreamed would never, ever happen? It's what he wanted to say. Harry wasn't even sure if he could consider Draco Malfoy a friend yet, given their history. Well... it was a different history with a different person, wasn't it?

Harry took in a deep breath. He just needed time to get used to something this big, to become comfortable and adjusted to it. He just needed time.

Harry looked over at Ron and Hermione as realization dawned. “I understand why it's weird for you,” he began slowly. “You can take as long as you need to get used to it. I won't be going anywhere.”

A small smile spread across Hermione's face. “Thank you, Harry,” she said softly.

Ron shook his head, looking at Draco. “Look mate, would you just go back over to your table? It's too weird.”

Draco scowled, saying defensively, “I'm keeping Harry company.”

Ron exchanged glances with Hermione. “Well... er, we can do that.”

“Fine.” Draco sighed, standing up. “See you lot later, then.”

Harry watched Draco go back over to the Slytherin table. Several eyes had followed him. Part of Harry almost wouldn't have minded Draco staying, but then maybe a Slytherin sitting with Gryffindor's was too big of a step right then.

But maybe not so much in the near future.

Harry turned back to his plate of food, glancing over at Ron and Hermione uncertainly. “So....”

“So,” Ron echoed. “How... er... how was your summer?”