His first morning in Slytherin was extraordinarily like any other day.

"October, huh?" Harry mumbled while straightening his hair, lifting his bag from the top of his made bed. Without waiting for the others, he walked out the door, waving at one of the third year girls waiting in the common room, and left the dormitories.

His footsteps echoed in the empty dungeon corridor. He held up a hand to shield his eyes from the bright light of the exit. Cedric and his group of friends were entering through the door, which reminded Harry that it was Tuesday, which also reminded him that he hadn't been able to join practise on Tuesday because of his appointment with Snape.

"Cedric!" Harry shouted after him, before he could enter the hall, diminishing the little confidence Harry now had in front of large crowds. Thankfully, Cedric stopped with a foot hovering above the line, patting his friends' arms to get them moving.

"How can I help you, Patel?"

"Just wanted to, uh, apologise, because I couldn't make it last time."

"... You'll come next time though, right?"

Harry blinked, "Do you not want me to?"

"Of course I do! It's just…" he shuffled on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, "I didn't think that you'd want to."

Harry blinked away. Loud laughter emanating from the Hall met them in the corridor, providing a welcome distraction, "Because of Ravenclaw?"

"Slytherin keeps to themselves, usually," he said, more like an offering than a statement, pulling him aside so more people could enter the Hall easily, "You're Slytherin now, I thought you'd act more like them."

"I was also Ravenclaw for two weeks," he muttered, hands inside of his pockets, "But I didn't — nevermind."

"Oh come on," he bumped his arm, grin on his face, "You can tell me."

"Cedric — "

"Please?" he tilted his head to the side, grin widening when Harry sighed.

"You heard, right? Of what happened in Ravenclaw. With other Ravenclaws."

"Ah, yes," he rubbed his nape, straightening up, "Look, Patel. Don't take it personally. It's got more to do with how you didn't lose points when in Hufflepuff and that you lost them while at Ravenclaw, nothing more. They also have a reputation for being, well, intelligent, and it gave them a reason to excuse their anger."

"Did your Ravenclaw friend tell you that?"

Red dusted Cedric's face, which he unsuccessfully dismissed with a wave of his hand, and leading them both inside said, "She might have mentioned it, off-handley."

Harry chuckled weaky, leaving for the Slytherin table, "I'll make it. Next time."

"Next time, then."

Harry took a seat which didn't have any students in close proximity, and pulled a bowl close, eating in silence until Dr- Malfoy sat down beside him a short while later. He spoke loudly and excitedly, introducing everyone to Harry and vice versa, starting a long rant Harry tuned out, too focused on breakfast.

After the whole… event that was Ravenclaw, he knew it was quite normal for him to feel nervous around the students, but it still came as a surprise when he was unable to look anyone in the eye, afraid he would do something wrong to offend them. Slytherin, everyone said, was the 'evil' house. The ones that you didn't talk to; the ones that didn't socialize, stuck in their little house in the dungeons, away from sight.

Harry wondered if Tom Riddle had been in this house - was once like these students chatting amongst each other, looking nothing like what Harry imagined when he was in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.

It was a different view, on this side of the Great Hall. And besides - Snape wouldn't let him die, would he?

Harry frowned. Would he? He was very adamant — adamant, the word lifted the corner of his lips into a smile — about caring about him. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have gone out of his way to get Harry a proper schedule.

Harry stood up from the table, his bowl empty, "I'm… going to visit the library. I won't be late for class," he told Malfoy, picking up his bag and starting a slow walk out the Hall, somehow the chatter dying away and picking up again when he stepped into the corridor.

Madam Pince was helpful enough, and allowed him to borrow a book on Slytherin - not-so subtly reminding him of the rules of borrowing books and watching him like a hawk while he slid the book into his bag. She nodded firmly when the book sat snugly in his bag, turning her eyes away before she could see the nervous smile and wave Harry had offered.

The bell hadn't rang yet. Harry started his leisure walk up the stairs to the English classroom, wondering where he would start his duty. The prefects had asked him to help clean the common room until they got back to him on Monday.

He turned into the corridor, hands in his pockets as he walked down the hall. Finally outside the classroom, Harry slid down the stone wall, taking out the book. The first page had the Hogwarts' seal, with darker ink for the Slytherin emblem. Turning to the table of contents, he skimmed down the page. There was historical information, a chapter dedicated to the founder, what Slytherin meant and what was expected of the students, and then a list of famous Slytherin students.

Harry glanced at the page number, and started to turn to his destination. He missed the mark, however, landing on the end of the list instead. Any other person would turn back to the beginning, yet Harry was caught up with one particular name, written in with a fresh touch of ink and a distinct font.

Lord Tom Morvolo Riddle (see Voldemort)

"Huh," Harry pressed a finger down on the name, then closed the book and leaned his head on the stone, "I think I might join Slytherin, just to spite you."

"Ha- Ali?"

Harry looked up, then scrambled to stand, holding the book loosely in one hand, "Good morning, Professor Lupin."

"What are you doing here so early?" Lupin asked, leaning on the doorframe. His eyes caught the book in his hands, and a smile stretched on his lips, "Though I'm pleased to know you're reading, I don't want you to do so at the expense of missing meals."

"I've eaten, and this?" he showed him the cover, "I think I should know some things, if I'm going to be Slytherin."

"I admire your resolve for the - er - time visiting Slytherin," he eyed the book, his eyes downturned. Harry was about to bring it up, about how he didn't look very pleased, but Lupin held the door open before he could do so, "Won't you come in? We have some time before class starts, and I have some tea."

"Uh," he glanced inside the classroom, pressing his lips into an uncertain smile and nodded. Sliding the book back into his bag, he sat down on the seat Lupin pulled for him.

"I'll be only a second," Lupin said, disappearing into his office and coming back with a spare mug. A small teapot hung above the hearth of a dying fire. Pouring the remaining tea, Lupin brought the mug to the table, placing it on the desk for Harry to drink, "I hope you'll like it," he said, crossing his arms on the table almost expectedly.

Harry nodded in thanks. Lifting the mug to his lips, he blew on it a few times, only noticing his mistake of not smelling it beforehand soon after the first sip.

The tea had a questionable taste, as though the ginger was uncertain of itself, caught between strong and weak, sweet and bitter.

"It's not to your taste, is my guess," Lupin said when Harry tried to hide his wrinkled nose, dismissing him when Harry tried to apologize, "No need, Harry. People's tastes are seldom the same."

Harry put the mug back on the table, folding his hands on his lap, "Can I… I want to tell you something, Professor."

Lupin leaned forward in his seat, "Of course."

Eyes pinned on his hands, Harry took a deep breath, "I… I don't know what really happened in your class with Neville and your… suggestion to him, but I wanted to make you aware of something."

Lupin took a sharp breath, "Harry — "

"It's Ali, Professor. And please listen. I'm not… I'm not angry at you. Or maybe not anymore… But I feel I have to say this," he looked up, then flattened his bangs, "I just got to know Sn — Professor Snape this summer, not long… We never got along at first," Harry's lips lifted slightly, remembering the day he fell down the chimney, rubbing his hand down his back, "I didn't like him, he didn't like me. But out of everyone in this school, I… know him the most, and he knows me the most. We both have our bad sides, but Professor Snape was there when I had no one, so I felt that I would be doing something unfair if I didn't let you know this, a-about Professor Snape..."

Time - that was the only thing they exchanged. Empty, silent seconds spent not meeting each other's gaze. The tea on the table cooled, and the first bell rang, bringing their attention to the door. Professor Lupin cleared his throat and lifted the mug from the table, "Thank you for being honest with me, Harry," he said with a smile, gesturing to the classroom. Harry heard the dismissive underlying tone, "Any questions for class?"

Can I change books?

Harry smiled politely, shook his head, and headed to the back of the classroom, "Thank you, Professor."

They didn't speak, not even after the students started entering the classroom. Malfoy took a seat beside Nott, and Daphne Greengrass took the seat next to Harry. Resting his forehead on the table, he listened to Lupin's lecture, something about continuing adjectives and adverbs from where they left off. Harry took out his notebook, opening to a clean page and frowned when, in the corner of his eye, saw the perfect script of Daphne.

"We've gone over the types," Lupin tapped his chalk on the blackboard, underlining the list, "In today's lesson, we'll find the adjectives in the provided text. Take out your pencils, please!"

Harry groaned at those oh so sweet words. Lupin turned the board around, a short paragraph labeled Oliver Twist taking up most of the space.

"The author, Charles Dickens, has passed only recently. Four years ago, I think," Lupin told the class, who had already started copying down what was on the board, the steady sound of pencil on paper occupying the room.

Well, most of them did. Harry gripped his pencil tightly, looking up at least twice for each word, carving big black letters down on the page. He stole a glance to his side, again, only to press his lips together in a firm line when he saw that Daphne was done with a good portion of her work.

"How do you write so fast?" he hissed, occasionally glancing towards the front of the classroom, copying the lines off of Daphne's page, "I'm not even halfway done."

Daphne glanced at his page, her lips curled into a wince, "Well, you'll do better, the more you write."

Except, the more Harry wrote, the more he was behind. Chewing his lip, he moved onto the next sentence, hating how long it took to write it down when Daphne — or anyone else, really — got it down with a graceful curve of a pencil, moving onto word after word smoothly.

"... What did you do in the other classes?" Daphne asked very quietly, tapping his hand with her pencil and continuing to write, "If you wrote like the way you do now."

"Hufflepuff gave me their notes," Harry said, leaning his chin on his palm, adjusting his grip on the pencil, "I was too scared to ask anyone in Ravenclaw," he added with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Daphne nodded along with a smile of her own, only one side of her lips lifting. They didn't speak until the end of the lesson, the only interaction they had being when Daphne offered to share her own notebook when the time for both writing the passage and working on it was done.

The silent gesture meant so much more to Harry than he wanted it to.

Before he walked out the door, he glanced above his shoulder to see if Professor Lupin was doing the same for him. He wasn't, stacking his books and papers instead. That was alright with Harry, and he left without a word, enduring a long, boring class of physics before walking down the stairs for chemistry immediately after, his brain barely functioning.

"Don't fall," said Parkinson when he almost tripped by the stairs leading down, the point where the corridor plunged into the darkness, and Harry couldn't keep himself from rolling his eyes. As his vision started to adapt to the dark, the hallway began to familiarize and soon enough they were outside Snape's classroom, in a straight line with the Ravenclaws slowly filling in beside them. Harry leaned his head on the stone wall, trying to tune out any noise from the other line.

"Settle down," said Snape the second he stepped out of the classroom, holding the door open for them to enter, Slytherin first. Harry took the seat that was the furthest from the front, on the side next to the wall. After each of them had found a seat, Snape swept forward, the material already written on the board.

"In the past eight weeks, we've discussed safety rules, which we had to pull forward in the curriculum —" surprisingly, he didn't look at Harry's direction, " — The discipline of chemistry and its uses, important historical context and lastly, the important difference between the science of chemistry and alchemy," he paused, sweeping a glance above the students' heads, "Any questions before we advance to a more difficult level?"

No one raised a hand or voice.

"Hm. Very well," Snape pointed at the board, then clasped his hands behind his back and started to walk around the classroom with careful, precise steps, "The symbolic language of chemistry. Abbreviations used in chemistry for chemical elements, functional groups and compounds. Take note that the symbols for chemical elements usually consist of one or two letters from the Latin alphabet. The first of which is always always capitalized."

He stepped towards the board again, and Harry leaned back in his chair, idly playing with the pencil in his hands.

"You're already familiar with Mendeleev's table of elements," Snape tapped the board, and then turned it around, a not so hidden smile on his lips that filled Harry with dread, "Sixty six of them. More than enough for each one of you. Mr Malfoy!"

The sound of his knees hitting the table in surprise brought a smile to Harry's lips, "Yes, Professor."

"The symbol for Calcium," Snape stepped in front of his table, tapping the wood, glancing sideways at a groan of complaint from the Ravenclaw side, "And the symbol for Iron from the Ravenclaw who does not wish to lose his house points. Mr Malfoy?"

"Ca, with a capital c," said Malfoy proudly. Snape nodded, and was at the Ravenclaw side in a quick stride, tilting his head expectedly.

A boy Harry had already forgotten the name of raised his hand, "Fe with a capital f."

Less amused, Snape left the Ravenclaw side to stand in front of the whole classroom, calling out names and assigning them elements. Some got it correct. Most of them got it wrong.

Harry didn't raise his hand, silently muttering the symbols to himself whether or not someone got it correctly, truly silent until a certain little element.

"Silver," Snape told the class, and the class chose to keep their silence, exchanging glances and fiddling with the sides of their closed chemistry textbooks, "Anyone? Someone who hasn't raised their hand. Mr Patel!"

Harry jumped, his chair rattling dangerously on its legs as he shot up to stand, "Ag, capital A!" shouted Harry without thinking, hanging his head as each of the heads in the room turned to face him, "Uh, yes. Ag with a capital A…"

Snape strode through the space between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, hands still behind his back, "Very well. Hg?"

Under the attention of the whole class, Harry turned his head in the other direction, rubbing the back of his head, "Mercury."

"Mercury, with a 'k' sound, not c," said Snape, harsher than necessary in response to the stifled laughter in the room. Gold?"

Harry blinked, sneaking a glance at Snape, "Au, capital A?"

This exchange continued fairly well until Harry came across an element he had forgotten the name off, shrugging when Snape pressed him to remember.

"Then tell me, Mr Patel, how you came to memorize these symbols. I confess this performance from you isn't along the lines of what I'm accustomed to, these past few weeks," Snape said, arching a brow when Harry's lips parted and then closed, "Well?"

"It's nothing important," Harry coughed into his hand, very keen on keeping his eyes pinned on his shoes, "I just… thought they were funny?"

"The assumption that they amused you drove you to memorize them? Fascinating," Snape said, nodding along, "I'm expecting the same level of work from now on, Mr Patel."

"But that was different!" he said, clasping a hand over his mouth, ears burning when Snape turned his head to look at him, waiting for a response. Harry gulped, gesturing wildly with his hands, "I mean, uh, I don't think I can do that sir."

Snape tilted his head expectedly, "Do humor me on why."

As he kept his eyes on the floor, he had little idea what the rest of the class was thinking, though he had a few guesses. Sneaking a brief glance at the Ravenclaw table, he averted his gaze to Snape's eyes, "When I was, er, learning to read this year… It was funny how the symbols didn't match the words, like how knight with a 'k' is read like night with a 'n', so it was... fun to learn."

"A plethora of similar opportunities will present itself, if you insist on finding them," Snape said, and swept towards the front of the classroom, turning the blackboard so they could see said Periodic table drawn with sharp lines of chalk, "The more curious among you will have already discovered the elements, if arranged according to their atomic weight, exhibit an apparent periodicity of properties…."

That night, in bed and under the covers, Harry already had a 'plethora' of thoughts to occupy him. The rest of his dorm mates, to his knowledge, were already asleep, light snores whiltering around the room.

Slytherin wasn't exactly… warm.

It wasn't cold, either.

Like the cool wall you pressed your forehead when the world got too hot. It matched the relief of quitting art and riding class both, and painting on old newspapers the teachers discarded after reading until Professor Snape got him spare paper.

Unexpectedly, however, Malfoy didn't push him into anything for now, more occupied with his own affairs. Getting work handed in on time, for example, while he was doing homework which seemed to take almost as long as Harry, and exhausting himself throughout the day so he'd fall asleep easily - not much different from Harry, who now had even more classes to regularly occupy his thoughts starting tomorrow.

And the other students? Harry wasn't under the impression that they'd care about what he did, as long as it didn't cost them any points, and didn't affect them directly. Slytherin worked as a hive mind, Harry came to the conclusion the next morning as he looked into the mirror, his plain tie caught between his fingers. He lifted his eyes, gaze flicking around the dorm. Nott was out of the room, but the rest were either in front of their mirrors getting ready (Zabini and Malfoy), or talking to each other in not-so hushed voices (Crabbe and Goyle). Harry sighed, lifting a part of his hair and reminding himself to ask for more concealer before flattening it back down.

Waiting for a group to walk out of the dorm, he lingered after them, dropping inside the Great Hall to pick up a bruised fruit or otherwise some quick bread, keeping his head down to ignore the group of Ravenclaw third years as he passed them. Pocketing the apple, he briefly took notice of the four blackboards noting the points — Slytherin in the lead — and made for the door, back hunched.

A hand wrapped around his arm, and Harry almost jumped, words cut from his throat.

"Can I help you, Conner?" he asked with intended strain to his voice, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Conner's words seemed to be lost as well, his lips parting, then pressed into a thin line, "I didn't know you knew them."

"Them?"

He tossed him a bored look, "Chemistry?"

"Ah," Harry's nerves turned a little stale, the initial panic subsiding and rebounding as awkward laughter, "I'm not utterly useless, y'know?"

"Incidentally," Goldstein intruded on their argument, the pause enough for Harry to remember what the word meant, "It also made me curious… why didn't you do well before? You seem to learn fairly well when you put your mind to it."

Harry let his gaze drop to his shoes, "Is this the conversation you want to have over breakfast?"

The silence spoke volumes.

Harry sighed again, rubbing his nape, "I don't know, well I mean I do know, but I didn't know how to read. It's not because… it doesn't have to do anything with my family," he mustered up enough strength to look at the two boys, shrugging his arm from Conner's grip. If he could no longer preserve his dignity, might as well defend someone else's.

He might have read that in one of Lupin's books.

And he might be a little uncertain of whose honor he was really defending.

"Then what does it have to do with?"

"Do you want the uncomfortable answer, or the one that will satisfy you?"

Conner chuckled dryly, "I don't think I want either one."

"Me either," said Harry, and with a final nod, left the hall, biting into the apple with the first step he took out of the doors.

Still wishing he had a coat, Harry made for the Greenhouses, sighing in relief when he caught sight of them.

But he also caught sight of a lonely, dark figure very close to Greenhouse Two, his disheveled hair under a tattered hood hiding a very familiar face.

Harry stopped in his steps, and climbed back to the castle, Snape's warning echoing in his mind.

Don't travel the grounds alone.

Somehow, those words were easier to follow than most of his instructions.

Sitting on the steps, Harry lifted his book to revise for the lesson, occasionally stealing a glance down the length of the hill and towards the man.

Harry closed the book at the sound of shuffling behind him, readjusting his strap. Slytherin was the first to appear out the door, of course, and Harry easily mingled after them, lifting a brow at the grin on Malfoy's face, "What?"

"Couldn't do without waiting for your house?"

"If I leave, it's on your hands," he bumped his arm, light-hearted albeit slightly fuming. He still lingered behind them, listening to any group conversations and laughing at some remarks.

However, when they were passing by Greenhouse Two, Malfoy stopped, taking hold of Harry's strap to keep him from moving.

"Huh?" Harry looked above his shoulder.

"Your flower is growing."

"What?"

The crowd of students walked around him, not minding Malfoy who peered through the clearing he made on the dusty pane using his hand, fingers resting on the dirty glass.

Harry stopped on Malfoy's right, looking both ways, "So?"

"You're not going to water it today?"

"Won't we be late?"

"How fast can you run?" Mafloy asked, pulling the door handle down. He pushed the door open with an arm above Harry's head, sending a spike of annoyance through the shorter boy, "And you? I don't think you're a world renowned runner either."

Malfoy took a few moments to register the words, then broke into a grin, "World renowned? You're finally catching up! And it's not whether I can run fast or not. Can you keep up?"

Harry huffed, "You're a git."

Malfoy smirked, "You're short."

Their chase on the grounds — Harry called it a chase, Malfoy called it a one-sided attempt — was cut short when it was time for class, Malfoy not breaking a sweat while Harry gasped for air, cheeks burning. Malfoy must have taken pity on him, though, and said he'd let him use his notebook to take the notes he couldn't catch up with in return for Harry to remind him to pay attention to class when he looked like he was doing anything else.

Not a bad day, either. He'd choose today over any of the days he spent in Ravenclaw, even when Harry, purely by having been forced to his wits end, threw one of the cricket balls in Malfoy's direction, haphazardly causing it to disturb the rotting leaves of the tree it was currently stuck in.

"You know," Malfoy said the next day, tilting his head and rubbing his chin, "I'm starting to think you're really bad at this."

"And I'm starting to think you're doing this just to annoy me," Harry bit back, glaring at the red ball stuck up a tree.

"Finally caught on, have you? Well done."

"I will kick you."

"You did that once. Did Ravenclaw teach you nothing about creativity?"

Behind them, the silence of the grounds continued. There was the occasional Ministry worker, who eyed them as he passed by, and the knowledge that somewhere in the field the other students were playing already.

They weren't the ones that needed to get the ball out of the tree, after all.

"It's simple," Malfoy dropped his hands from his hips, pointing at the ball, "The branch is not too high."

"You can't climb a tree with no branches on the bottom, though," Harry said, knocking on the bark and then jumping once, hand not even close to reaching the ball. Looking around, he circled the tree, coming back to the same spot with a disappointed frown, "No sticks."

"I have an idea."

"No."

"You didn't even hear it!"

"I don't think I want to."

"Well — " Malfoy began to shout, but stopped abruptly, closing his mouth. Straightening up, he dusted his clothes and turned around, walking back towards the game, "Well, if you're so sure."

Harry hit his head against the tree — gently, afraid it would hurt — and turned back around, cupping his hands around his mouth, "Fine, but I'm not climbing on your shoulders!"

Climbing on Malfoy's shoulders was no easy task, and God knew they would never be able to manage it again. Hands latched onto Malfoy's shirt, Harry swallowed thickly, the ground now much farther than he would have liked.

"I don't like this," he said, nervously shifting his hands on Malfoy's shoulders, "I'm going to fall!"

"Don't give yourself too much credit, Patel. You're as light as a child," Malfoy said, huffing and taking a step closer to the tree, hitting Harry's leg when Harry pinched his shoulder, "Come on! If you reach up now, you'll get the ball."

Lifting his head, Harry saw the ball right above him, a hand stretch away, true to Malfoy's words. Harry licked his dry lips, craning his neck to get a better look at the castle behind him.

"I meant today, Patel. Not next week."

Harry whipped his head around, muttering a weak apology under his breath. He uncurled his fist from Malfoy's shirt, clasping them back as soon as his hand left his shoulder until he touched the bark of the tree with his palm flat. Malfoy shuffled from one foot to the next, silent. Looking up at the ball a final time, Harry released a shaky breath, one hand curling around the branch, while the other one reached for the ball.

"Almost — " grunted Harry, licking his lips, heaving himself up with a hold on the branch, hand finally catching the ball, " — Got it!"

The words were short lived, however. In just a few seconds, Harry felt the support under him drop; his legs dangling in the air.

"Malfoy!" he shouted, scrambling to get a better grip, his feet rushing to find leverage. He did succeeded, thanks to sheer dumb luck, using the momentum to get himself up on the branch.

The ball fell down beside Malfoy's sprawled form, very very gently.

"You know," laughed Harry, voice edging closer to frustration, as he craned his head to look down at Malfoy from where he was hugging the tree branch, "I don't know what made me listen to you."

Malfoy groaned, rubbing his head. He then lifted his free hand to take a look at the small branch in his hands, rubbing the small leaves between his fingers, "Ow…"

"Did you — Don't tell me you were holding onto that branch while I was on your shoulders," Harry said, really laughing when Malfoy averted his gaze, cheeks red, "But why?"

"I just wanted to touch it," Malfoy grumbled, standing up and still rubbing his head, "Ow. I think I got more hurt than you."

"Ha," said Harry dryly, not having the energy to get angry. Leaning his head on the branch, Harry released a heavy breath, the grounds stretching beyond what the eye could see. This, this was good. Away from everyone else, outside, not having to be somewhere because Madam Hooch knew exactly why they were there and what they were doing.

Either Malfoy needed to stop talking, or he needed some tips from Professor Patel on how to keep one's patience while the other party was trying their hardest to be annoying.

This was nice, not having to think about anything except getting down.

"Want me to get you some pillows and a blanket," said Malfoy, still rubbing his head, "Some butter and cream?"

"What does butter and cream have to do — Oh nevermind, just get me someone tall. Or a ladder."

"Professor Snape?"

"Who's first instinct isn't to get angry at me."

Malfoy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His eyes then widened, uncomfortably bright, and he broke into a sprint, calling above his shoulder, "Don't go anywhere!"

Harry watched him leave, and laughed again, "I'll be sure to not leave the tree I'm stuck in!"

Malfoy was too far away to hear him, however, and Harry dropped his head back on the branch, closing his eyes. He hadn't been able to sleep last night, tossing in bed until past midnight, and then waking up from a dream with Professor Lupin's book (the subject of which he'd suffered in his dream) propped on his chest.

Soon enough, Harry heard footsteps approaching. Heavy footsteps. Opening his eyes, Harry saw that the person accompanying Malfoy was none other than Hagrid, his heavy feet leaving marks on the grass with every step. He nervously lifted his head, rubbed the back of his neck and waved, "Hello Mr Hagrid."

"Alrigh' there 'a — Ali?" Hagrid asked, walking right underneath the branch Harry was sitting, "Caugh' yerself in trouble, eh?"

"Can you help me get down from it?" Harry asked, raising his voice and glancing at Malfoy, "And I don't think I'm the only one who was caught up in trouble. Why's your shoe like that?"

"I stepped in a pumpkin," said Malfoy, shaking his foot, the paste still tangled with it's bright color around the shoe, "An almost rotten pumpkin."

"Perfect for some pie, tha' is," said Hagrid, extending his arms forward, opening and closing his hands, "Come on then."

Harry blinked, "Sorry?"

"You wan' to come down, don' ya?"

"Without breaking my arm," said Harry, emphasizing each word, lifting his hand to hold the branch. Gaining some balance, he hung both legs down the branch, sucking in a breath when he caught sight of the distance between him and Hagrid's arms, "I don't want to come down, Mr Hagrid."

"'course ya do," he lifted his arms again with a hearty laugh, "Come on, your teacher won' wait for much longer."

"I didn't get rotting mush on my feet for nothing," said Malfoy in a berating manner, one hand cupping his mouth and the other accusingly pointing at him, "Just jump!"

Just jump sounded far too simple of a summary for a height this complicated, sugarcoating the way the ground churned when he looked at it for too long, or how Hagrid's arms seemed a little too fragile when he considered that he'd be falling from the sickening height

"I'm comfortable where I am."

"Oh for God's sake just come — "

Harry jumped. In other words, he fell. For a single moment. A single, fast moment. The air rushed through him. His heart plummeted, and then he was in Hagrid's arms. Rigid, swallowing thickly with his arms pulled close to his chest.

"Y-you know," he looked up at Hagrid, feeling heat slowly return tı his cheeks, "I've n-never seen a pumpkin. It has a very odd color."

"Firs' time seeing orange?" Hagrid asked with a thick chuckle, letting him on the ground with a large hand around Harry's thin arm to prevent him from falling.

"First time seeing a lot of things," Harry said, eyeing the ball on the ground. Arm still in Hagrid's grasp, he bent down and picked it up, then shoved it into Malfoy's arms when he stepped closer, earning a gasp of surprise from him.

"That hurt," Malfoy said, rubbing his stomach.

"You shouldn't try following your weird little thoughts, then," said Harry, very close to snapping the words, "Also, your shoe — "

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because Malfoy looked utterly detached, his face falling and his hold around the ball loosening, "What of my shoe?"

What of his shoe? Harry looked down, at the color orange smudging the leather, and lifted his lips to an easy smile, suppressing the ugly thoughts he wanted to spit out, "They look weird. A good weird."

"...A good weird."

"Weird is good. Sometimes I'm just too dumb to remember it."

"I have the feeling you were going to say something else," said Malfoy, waving at Hagrid with his hand holding the ball, "Bye, Hagrid."

"Thank you, Mr Hagrid," Harry waved as well, grinning wide.

"Come visit me sometime!" Hagrid shouted after them as Harry turned around, further and further away as Harry added a little speed to his walk to catch up with Malfoy, "And I didn't. Because it wasn't the truth."

Malfoy scoffed, "You called them 'your weird little thoughts'."

"I was wrong," said Harry, feeling worse than he ought. They were still weird little thoughts, but were they worth losing the only anchor he had in Slytherin, or potentially one of the few people he could call a...friend? Harry sighed again, walking around him to stop Malfoy in his tracks, "They also got me down, yeah? I'm… I'm sorry. I am," he repeated in defence and raising both hands when Malfoy raised his brows in question, "Look, thank you for getting me down from the tree. I probably would have fallen if you hadn't called Hagrid. Or would have Snape scolding me while watching me climb down a ladder. Then scold me some more."

This time, Malfoy chuckled, "And then some more again. I don't think you'd hear the end of it."

"Even worse if I had fallen," said Harry, looking over his shoulder at the tree, "Though that is one weird tree."

"Wonder why they haven't removed it," Malfoy said, throwing the ball up and down in his hands, "Or cut the bushes around it."

"Probably nothing important," shrugged Harry. He bumped his arm with Malfoy's, a grin on his lips, "I'll race you to the field."

And so they did, leaving the Willow as it had been - deathly still, leaves unwinding with the approaching winter.

Probably not important.