Forever and Always

Harry grinned back at her, and enjoyed watching her face light up. He straightened up, tugged his robes straight, and winked saucily at her. She barely had time to return the gesture before she was swept away in a wave of hungry students.

He waited until Hagrid knocked on the door, then fell in beside his new friend as they headed to a side chamber to wait for the Sorting.

"So, Hagrid, how are the thestrals?"

The giant man turned to the muscular lad beside him, eyes crinkling into a frown.

"How'd yeh know abou' 'em?"

Harry shrugged. "I can see them too."

"Who died?"

The raven-haired youth sighed. "Some guy who tried to mug me. He fell on his gun."

"Gun?"

"Sort of like a metal wand, but the only thing it does is kill people."

"Ah. When'd tha' happen?"

"A couple of years ago."

They walked in silence for the rest of the way, then McGonagall appeared.

"'Ere's where I leave yeh. Good luck, 'Arry."

And the half-giant was off, heading in the direction of the Great Hall. McGonagall watched him disappear, then turned to the students briskly and started in lecturing them on the Houses and what was to be expected of them. Harry, who had heard this all before, settled for drawing his wand and examining it. He'd polished it the night before, and it gleamed in the torchlight.

"Potter, are you even listening?" McGonagall sighed.

"No," he replied bluntly.

The Professor shook her head, and then the wand he was holding registered in her mind.

"Potter, where in the WORLD did you get a custom-made wand? There have only been four in the last century!"

He smirked. He always loved shocking the teachers.

"It's cherry wood and black unicorn hair. Made by Draden."

"Draden? The world-renowned specialty wand maker? The one who only makes wands for those he feels deserve them?"

"The one and only. I did him a big favor a few years back. He gave me my wand in return."

"A favor? What kind of favor?"

"I saved his son's life." And that was all he was going to say on the matter. He wanted to see if they could figure it out on their own.

The Deputy Headmistress shook her head in bewilderment. "I'm not even going to ask."

He smirked. "But you were going to."

Minerva McGonagall had met a lot of wizards and witches in her time, but no one, not even Albus, could read her like Harry. He didn't even need Legilimency to know what she was thinking.

Instead of answering, she shooed them into the Great Hall.

"Heads up, Potter. I've got a thirty-galleon bet you'll be in either Gryffindor or Slytherin. Don't disappoint me."

He smirked.

"I won't."

And he strode into the Hall, ignoring the flurry of whispers that followed in his wake. Head held high, he walked with the first years up to the Sorting hat, eyes trained on the Head table. All the teachers, even Snape, were watching him approvingly. He nodded curtly to them and shot a searing glance at Blaise. She returned it with interest.

"Allim, Sandy!"

A small girl in pigtails sat under the hat for barely a moment before it declared, "RAVENCLAW!"

"Auvrey, John!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Beren, Lillian!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And so the Sorting progressed. Finally, Tanya Phiery was sorted into Slytherin, and it was his turn.

"Potter, Harry!"

He appeared unruffled and unconcerned as he perched on the stool and jammed the hat on his head. Ah, a Potter. You're destined for greatness, boy, that much is obvious. But where to sort you? You're intelligent, not a bad mind, but you're too ambitious, too well hidden behind your façade of unconcern to be a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff. Do you have a preference? Slytherin or Gryffindor. Gryffindor, eh? You're brave, and courageous, boy, but you're too manipulative, controlling, to be a true Gryffindor. You're destined for SLYTHERIN!" The hat bellowed the last word to the entire Hall. Silence reigned, and then the cheering started. Soon the Slytherin table was positively roaring with approval.

Harry stood and handed the hat to a resigned but not surprised Professor McGonagall. She nodded to him. "Make your House proud, Potter. The Slytherins have lain in the shadow for far too long. It's time for you to guide them to the Light."

He nodded. "I agree," he said simply, and strode over to the table between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

A spot opened up between Blaise and a stocky redheaded boy. He smiled gratefully at her and flopped down beside her.

"Hi, honey, I'm home."

She giggled. "Harry, long time no see."

He winked at her and leaned back, propping his feet up on the table. The redhead next to him nodded warmly and stuck out his hand.

"I'm Theodore Nott, Blaise's resident bodyguard of sorts."

Harry grinned wolfishly. "Harry Potter, resident eye candy. Nice to know somebody's looking out for my girlfriend, but Blaise can take care of herself. She has one hell of a right hook."

Theodore grinned. "I know. She dropped Ron Weasley."

Harry grinned. "Wicked."

His face distorted into an expression of disgust and utter loathing. "Weasley's had it in for her from the beginning. She managed to piss him off on the train her first year."

Blaise leaned across her boyfriend to slap Theodore gently.

"Shut it, Theo."

"But Blaise, honey, it's so much fun," he purred teasingly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna cut in here, before you start making puppy dog eyes at each other."

Blaise shot him a sweet smile. "Harry, you're the only man for me."

He smiled at her, at least until she went back into joking mode and continued, "All the others are just boys- oops, did I say others?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

He pouted, throwing a mock-wounded glance at her. He clutched his chest dramatically.

"I'm hurt."

She giggled and kissed him.

"Did that make it better?"

He feigned a serious face.

"It still hurts a little. It aches right there," he purred, gesturing at his lips.

She repeated the gesture, her lips soft and warm. He crushed them against his, sighing.

"Hell, I missed that," he groaned as they parted.

Blaise agreed dazedly.

"So did I."

Theo chose that moment to step in cheerily.

"Um, guys, the whole Hall is watching you."

Harry looked around, then summed up all their thoughts in one word.

"Bugger."

A pale blond boy a few seats away grinned.

"Nice going, Potter. You'll forever be remembered like that, passionately snogging a gorgeous girl with reckless abandon in the middle of the Great Hall during the Welcoming Feast."

He laughed.

"Be nice and say you didn't take any blackmail photos."

The blond paused a moment, pretending to think, then replied, "I wouldn't view that as blackmail. What's to be embarrassed about?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever, blond kid with the pointy nose."

The boy puffed up like a strutting peacock and retorted, "My nose is not pointy! And my name is Draco Malfoy!" He said the last bit like he should be awed and amazed.

"So? Who cares if your dad is rich and part Veela? I'm a bloody billionaire and counting, and my blood is just as pure as yours!"

Draco paused in his search for a decent comeback long enough to ask interestedly, "You're a halfblood. You can't be pure wizard."

He snorted. "That's what they all say. My mother's parents were both pureblooded squibs. I'm half Cobriana ancestry, on my grandmother's side, and Black on my grandfather's side, though in blood, not name. At least that's what my best friend's father says. Ricky seconds it."

"Father? Who? What?" He took a calming breath, then asked reasonably, "Ricky?"

Harry replied truthfully, "Ricky Draden."

Draco paused in his slack-jawed shock to point out that there was no 'Ricky' Draden.

Harry rolled his eyes. "That's his nickname, you dunce. It's short for Rickardo."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

The lithe blond was silent a moment, before pressing on.

"What's he look like? The papers have never got ahold of a picture of him."

Harry grunted, "You're not going to leave me alone until I answer, are you?"

The blond aristocrat nodded. "Not a chance."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Draco. I'm heading to the dorm, anybody feel like protecting me from the big bad Gryffindors?"

Theo snorted, but stood as well.

"I'll save your bum this time, Harry, but you're on your own next time you drag me away from my strawberry crumble before I'm finished."

The wolfish young man shrugged.

"You're more like Sir-Professor Black than you realize," he stated disdainfully. "Always thinking with your stomach and not your head."

Theo just shrugged. "Growing boy," he exclaimed defensively. Then he noted Harry's admittedly short height and retorted, "I see you're not getting any taller."

Harry glared. "Thanks for reminding me. I get comments on how tall I am all the time. Apparently I'm a real looker, but the girls don't wanna be seen with a guy who's shorter than them. Except Blaise, of course, because I am taller than her."

Theo had the grace to look embarrassed. "Sorry, Potter, I didn't realize it was that important to you."

The whole while, Severus Snape watched their interaction with cold eyes.

The walk to the Common Room was loud and excitable; the earlier spat between Harry and Theo was all but forgotten. They stayed up late, and one by one drifted off to bed. Harry was one of the last to leave, heading for the dorm he'd be sharing with Theo. Slytherins were only two to a room, owing to a rather generous donation from Lucius Malfoy and a few other wealthy former-Slytherins.

He walked into the room and sleepily traded his robes for a pair of black and gold silken pajama bottoms, another indulgence on his part. He ignored the top; ever since he'd been 12, he'd slept without a shirt on. Every time he wore one to sleep he'd wake up almost as soon as he'd fallen asleep, panicking at struggling. Bad memories of being attacked and beaten up in dark alleyways prevented him from being comfortable wearing shirts. It made it easier to grab you by the collar.

He went Howler and curled up on his bed, burying his muzzle in the soft comforter. It was pretty cold in the dungeons compared to the fifth floor. Not that cold bothered him; he was so used to it by now that he could ignore it completely. His friend Ricky had called him 'a right polar bear' because he never got cold. Ferrono, however, had seconded him, so Harry couldn't deny that he wasn't bothered by the cold.

Theo grunted something that sounded like it might have been, "G' night," but Harry wasn't sure. His sleep-addled mind was having trouble keeping him from rolling over and falling off the four-poster.

He barked a reply regardless, and was fast asleep before Theo had sat bolt upright, staring at his bed in bewildered skepticism. Shaking his head in exasperation, he rolled over and went back to sleep.

The next morning dawned cold and wet, and Harry went for his usual run in wolf form. It was just too muddy and slippery for his trainers. He wandered in, mud-splattered and soaking wet, at six am and took a long shower. When he was finally satisfied that he'd gotten all the mud out of his hair, he dressed and headed up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo was already sitting at the Slytherin table with a pretty strawberry blond girl. He was chatting animatedly with her, and from his position in the entrance, he could clearly see the cleverly disguised dazed expression on his face.

Just inside the entrance, he was stopped by a redheaded boy, flanked by a black boy, a sandy-haired Irish boy, and beside him, a bushy-haired girl with a book bag so full of books it was straining at the seams. She really needs a bottomless feather-light, he thought blandly.

The redhead, a Weasley from Blaise's description, glared at him.

He shouldered past him, and Harry heard a distinct muttering of, "Slytherin scum. Gonna turn dark on us, Potter?"

Harry wheeled around, glaring daggers at Weasley.

"Back off, Weasley. I'm ambitious, not bloody evil, you prat!"

The black boy sneered at him. "What's the difference? Everyone knows a Slytherin would run to You-Know-Who any day of the week. I bet a few of them are already marked!"

The Irish boy laughed coldly. "Too right, Dean. Malfoy's probably attending junior-Death Eater-in-training meetings! I hope he read the handbook."

Weasley smirked at him. "Watch yourself, Potter. We don't stand for dark wizards."

He turned on his heel and strode away, his lackeys following. The bushy-haired girl, Hermione Granger, blushed faintly under his intense gaze. He nodded neutrally to her and strode away. Theo had witnessed the encounter from the Slytherin table and was watching him in concern.

"They didn't threaten you, did they?" he sighed, as if it were a common occurrence.

He shrugged. "Depends on what you'd call a threat." He flopped down next to the blond girl, who he now recognized as Jessica Moon, a fellow Slytherin sixth year.

"Hi Jessica."

She smiled at him warmly. Whoever said Slytherins were cold and unfeeling lied.

"Hi, Harry. I hope you got one up on Weasley. He's a right pain in the arse, the high-and-mighty-Gryffindor-Golden-boy. Thinks a bit too much of himself. He actually thinks he's a good Seeker!"

Harry snorted. "And is he?"

Theo was the one that answered. "He's a decent Seeker, but he's nowhere near Draco's level, or Cho Chang's for that matter. She's Ravenclaw's Seeker. Cedric Diggory was pretty good, but he graduated last year, and they found Summerby for a replacement."

Harry grinned. "Do we have any spots open on the Slytherin team?"

Jessica said, "Yeah, we need a new Beater. Our old one, Jacobson, graduated last year and we haven't had trials yet, so we need to do that. I'm on the team, a Chaser, by the way."

Harry smirked. "Good. I'm a fair flier, and I played Quidditch with some neighborhood kids. I was always a Beater. Maybe I'll try out for the team."

Jessica grinned.

"Well, from the way you are on the ground, I can see what you'll be like in the air. You beat out Draco's henchmen, and you got the position."

He grinned. "That'll be easy. Crabbe and Goyle are pretty strong, but they don't have all the qualities that make a decent Beater. Namely, intelligence."

Jessica laughed in agreement. Theo snickered, but refrained from outright laughing. Harry was right, after all.

Harry nodded solemnly to a forbidding Professor Snape, then went back to fighting out the pros and cons of every Quidditch team in existence.

Slender arms wrapped around his stomach from behind, accompanied by a soft giggle. "Harry, you've changed."

He smirked. He'd been lifting weights and strength training in addition to his morning run, and as a result had gained a rather impressive physique.

Zane hissed from were he was coiled around Harry's neck. / Watch it! I'm fragile! /

Harry snickered, and was greeted with confused looks from everyone. "Um, Zane said something," he muttered, face heating up. It was then that Draco stormed through the doors, his hair a bright electric blue.

"POTTER!"

Harry smirked; Draco raged; everyone else burst out laughing.

"Oops."

He pasted on his best innocent smile. "Wotcher, Draco. Nice hair," he guffawed. The formerly blond Malfoy puffed up angrily.

"Put it right, Potter. Now."

The raven-haired sixteen-year-old smiled smugly.

"I told you not to annoy me. Look what I have for guardian."

Draco saw red. "PUT IT RIGHT, POTTER!"

He shrugged. "Fine. Sheesh. Can't you take a joke?"

His fellow Slytherins answered as one.

"No."

The whole table burst out laughing, save for Malfoy's lackeys. Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson remained stubbornly silent, though in the cases of the first two, it was probably because they didn't get it.

A furious Draco Malfoy shoved the much stronger boy in the chest as hard as he could. Harry tumbled backwards onto the floor. While no match for Harry, Draco wasn't weak by any means. He launched himself to his feet furiously.

"Put it right, Potter, or my father will hear about this. I can make your life hell," he snarled.

Everyone was silent now, even the teachers. Everyone wanted to see what would happen, responsibilities be damned.

Harry strode forward coolly and grabbed Malfoy by the shirt collar. He lifted him off the ground and slammed him against the wall behind him. He leaned in close and spoke in barely above a whisper.

"Watch yourself, Malfoy. I give as good as I get, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a snotty, spoiled little kid walk all over me."

Something heavy connected with the side of his face, and he dropped the struggling Slytherin unceremoniously. The blue-haired boy drew back his fist for another punch, and reeled back sharply as Harry treated him to his infamous right hook. Infamous among people he'd beaten up, that is.

Soon the scuffle had become an all out fight. Blood stained the marble floor and a tuft of black hair lay on the ground from when the underhanded Malfoy boy had grabbed his hair and pulled. The Professors snapped to their senses and broke up the fight quickly.

It was plainly obvious who was the winner, though. Harry had been pounding Draco into the floor, with a variety of different punches, kicks, and an admirable uppercut that had almost knocked Draco clear over.

Malfoy had a vast collection of bruises, scrapes, cuts, and a long furrow of scratches down the side of his face. Blood dripped from a broken nose as well.

Harry had fared far better. He had been toughened by an uncountable number of street fights, and remained conditioned and itching for a good fight. Aside from the section of torn-out hair, he proudly sported a black eye and a split lip, and more than a couple bruises. He was the sort that bore his injuries with pride.

He sneered at Malfoy as he was held back by Hagrid. "You call that a fight? Pathetic. I know a twelve-year-old that fights better than you." He spat blood out the side of his mouth and yanked himself out of Hagrid's firm grip.

"I don't like people who take cheap-shots!" he snarled as he walked away. A puce-faced Malfoy drew his wand furiously.

"Reducto Maxima!"

The spell barreled towards him and hit dead center between the shoulder blades. He was thrown forwards and the floor rushed up to meet him. With a SMASH, he hit the Hufflepuff table and tumbled over the far side of it. Dazed but not too badly hurt, he shoved himself to his feet, never one to admit defeat.

He drew his wand and leveled it at the sneering Slytherin.

"Trasiospics Searia!"

A ball of jade green flame leaped from the tip of his wand and barreled towards the lithe electric blue-haired boy.

He smirked as it singed the top of Malfoy's head, and swiftly ducked the jet of black light flying at his chest. Harry laughed mockingly.

"Is that the best you can do?" he sneered.

Malfoy snarled and whipped his wand in a complicated motion. "Extravus Iolanus!"

Harry twisted sideways and went into a forward roll to avoid the sudden appearance of a couple waves of fire. He came out of the roll throwing powerful spells around like he was spraying the garden with the hose back at Privet Drive.

His first and third spells missed entirely, due to Malfoy's sudden shifting, but the second one, a black curse streaked with green, a number, clipped Malfoy's left arm.

It immediately fell limp at his side, and he was hit full on by the fourth spell in his ensuing panic. He was knocked off his feet by the green light and landed on his back amid a tangle of rapidly growing vines.

One curled around his neck and squeezed, and he frantically blasted it off with a well-aimed curse. Howling mad, he struggled to his feet, burning off vines that tried to wrap around his ankle, and threw an unfamiliar pale orange hex at the bristling young man opposite him.

Distracted by the image of Malfoy being attacked by a plant, Harry didn't react fast enough, and the hex grazed his stomach brutally. He hissed in pain and snarled, "Vaeryn Leasilera!"

Malfoy dodged the charm deftly and fired back. Harry threw a shield up to take the blow, and retaliated.

"Aeris Quivaristan!"

The spell hit the ground barely half a foot in front of the pale boy, and he was already starting to jeer when he took a step forward and his feet slipped out from under him. He landed in a puddle of oily black liquid.

His face darkened with rage. Ink! His brand new custom robes and khaki slacks were ruined!

"Ollerali Isalandris!"

A shockwave of brilliant purple descended on the defiant figure facing him. Harry was thrown off his feet, slammed into the far wall, and hit in the head by something heavy. Scratch that, his head hit something heavy. And rock hard. Damn stone walls.

He barely recalled releasing every ounce of unnecessary magic in a gigantic wave that washed over everyone, effectively winning him a duel. Draco Malfoy was out cold, surrounded by a sea of shocked-looking students and staff.

His last coherent thought before the world went black was damn, that was awesome!