Fake (Drarry, kinda)

Chapter 3

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore fixed the boy with a disapproving frown, itching to let Filch have his way with the brat, "I'm not going to wait all day."

"Do I even have a choice?" Harry muttered bitterly, turning back to the bird who seemed to care for him do much.

"Between what's right and wrong for you." Dumbledore said, holding the hat out to the defeated teen.

Harry reluctantly turned around and took the hat. Even now he was 15, the hat was still to big and fell over his eyes. This would have made him feel vulnerable, if it wasn't for Fawkes' heat still at his shoulder, reassuring him of her close proximity.

"Ah yes, I remember you." The familiar voice rung through his head, accompanied by the most uncomfortable feeling of having his mind read. Memories he was sure were just dreams cropping up. "A resorting is just like you, very unusual. You are a complicated case, could fit in almost any of the houses, but I stand by my original statement, you would do well in Slytherin."

Harry thought about it. He had always been expected to be a Gryffindor, all his friends were Gryffindors or Gryffindor supporters... But why had he asked to be anything but Slytherin? Because he was told they were all dark wizards, because he was told his parents were murdered by one. But hadn't his parents been killed in part due to a Gryffindor?

If Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, did Harry really want to be one too? But would his friends accept him if he was a Slytherin?

"If they don't, are they really your friends?" The Sorting Hat's voice echoed in his mind, he didn't want to know.

Of course, if Hermione and Ron didn't accept him, you could argue they weren't his real friends, but hadn't the Slytherins always been horrible to them? Especially Hermione, and Ron's family had the rivalry with the Malfoys... But hadn't they always returned the Slytherins' taunts and insults? Hadn't Hermione punched Draco?

Harry sighed, it was obvious Dumbledore wanted him in Slytherin, and not for benevolent reasons, but he did feel a pull to be there. Harry always hated giving people what they wanted from him, but what choice did he have? How long had he been Dumbledore's pet now?

"I see you have made your decision." The Sorting Hat's voice said, almost sounding Sympathetic for the child's situation. "Slytherin!!"

Harry didn't notice the malignant smirk on Dumbledore's face as Harry replaced the Sorting Hat on its shelf. He paused, seeing the red and gold trim on his robes had become silver and green. Something about that felt right, causing a little ball of happiness to settle in his chest.

"Go see your new head of house. You have the rest of the day off to readjust." Dumbledore said, gesturing towards the door. "The house elves will take your stuff down to the dungeons."

Harry took the hint, eager to leave anyway. Opening the door, he thought he saw a flash of purple, but as he rushed down the staircase, he didn't see anything that shade of purple. Deciding he didn't want to deal with people now, he pulled out his invisibility cloak and covered himself with it before leaving.

-----

If it was cold in the rest of the castle, it was freezing in the dungeons, and it was only November. Harry found himself dreading December, when the cold really set in, not to mention the weeks spent alone in the dungeons. It was still better than returning to the Dursleys, kissing Voldemort would be better than returning to the Dursleys.

Checking the map for the umpteenth time, Harry finally knocked on the Potion master's door. He tucked away the map and cloak, not wanting a repeat of third year, or to have them taken away from him, it was very useful for avoiding people.

"What do you want?" Snape asked as he opened the door to see Harry, slumping a fraction of a centimetre after noticing the green and silver trim on Harry's robes.

"Um... Dumbledore had me resorted and told me to come and talk to you as you're my head of house now." Harry said, suddenly finding his scuffed and too small shoes from three years ago very interesting.

Snape sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, gathering his strength, never noticing the scars on Harry's hands as he gestured for the boy to follow him.

Reaching the blank stretch of wall with a single brick out of place that signalled it was the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Snape said "Navigandum" which made the wall melt away to reveal the passageway to the room they were seeking.

Unlike the garish, but warm and well used Gryffindor common room, the Slytherin common room was far less flashy with the house colours, instead going for a comfortable black dragon hide on all the furniture, looking much better kept than the often threadbare armchairs of Gryffindor. This would have all looked cold, however, if it wasn't for the merry fire and piles of cushions. The fluffy green blankets left in piles, some neat, some looking as though they had just been thrown anywhere, along with the many different shades of green or silver cushions, some with the house crest embroidered on, made it feel like a home.

"This way, Potter, you will have time to explore this room, I'm sure, as you stay out of trouble."  Snape said, leading the way to the 5th year boys' dorm.

Each bed was neatly made, but you could still tell which belonged to who, of course Draco had silk sheets. Surprisingly, Goyle's sheets were a Gryffindor red. Harry immediately knew which was his. With the exception of the sheets, which were now a tasteful black and green, it was exactly the same as his bed in Gryffindor, which was to say, pretty plane with a single Chudley Canons poster Ron had given him.

"I trust you know what to do for now." Snape said, his lips turning up in a sneer, before he left. He was sure to be stuck with a lot of trouble to clean up, he needed to make some potions to work off the stress that was already rising at the thought.

Harry went over to his bed and sat on it, it was surprisingly soft, almost pulling him to lie in it, to take comfort in the shelter it provided from the cold dungeon air. Harry looked at the framed photograph on his bedside table, his parents smiling at him, before giving in to the desire to sleep, knowing it wouldn't last long.