"Hey- wait up!"

I hurry after the lanky boy, grabbing his arm the moment I reach him.

He wheels around, face as red as his hair. "What?"

I start at the spikiness in his voice.

"I uh-" I stumble, realizing I should be starting with an apology. "Look, Ron, I'm sorry about what happened on the train-"

"You ditched me for the Slytherins!"

"Well, I am a Slytherin... as it turns out." I shrug.

"Yeah, exactly." Ron mutters, the disgust in his voice evident as his narrow eyes roam me up and down.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, feeling the stirrings of defiance.

"I got you wrong, I thought you were alright - perhaps even one of us. But it turns out that you're just as bad as Malfoy, and I'd rather eat slugs than be friends with the likes of him."

I feel hurt. Not to mention wrongly judged. "Ron," I try one more time, "you did call me a liar-"

"Save it!" He spat. "I've got plenty of friends in Gryffindor, and I don't need you!"

He wheels around and strides away from me up the corridor. I can't help but feel disappointed as I watch him disappear around the corner. I was hoping we could finish naming my owl together, but I guess that is never going to happen now.

"Was that a Weasley, I saw you talking with just now?" Pansy asks as she walks up behind me.

"I'd hardly call it talking," I mumble to my new room mate. "More like him putting me in my place."

Pansy links her arm in mine, sighing. "I wouldn't worry about what they think. They're Gryffindors, and they hate our guts."

"Why?" I frown. It really didn't make sense to me.

Pansy turns her pretty eyes on me. "Because of You-Know-Who, of course! He was one of us."

"But that's ridiculous!" I laugh. "That's like saying you hate all Germans just because Hitler was one!"

It is Pansy's turn to frown now. "Who?"

*****

Dear Harri,
I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with yer owl.
Hagrid

"Surely you're not actually going?" Draco drawls as he reads Hagrid's letter over my shoulder.

To be honest, the last thing I want to do on my first afternoon off is sit drinking tea all alone with a giant drunk.

But then again, he did rescue me from my aunt and uncle and bought me an owl. Sighing, I scribble 'Sure, see you later' on the back of the note and send it back with my still nameless owl.

"Is that wise?" Blaise asks, raising an eyebrow. "Seems a bit suss to me, asking students back to his hut for 'tea'."

"He's alright," I shrug as I pour milk over my cornflakes. "He did rescue me, after all."

Everyone throws me sympathetic looks, all of them pitying me for having had to endure Muggles up until now.

"Well, I think it might be an idea for you to take back-up," Draco says, sounding like a dad. "I'll send along Crabbe or Goyle to escort you."

"Uh- no need," I say quickly, thinking that would be even worse. "I did spend an entire day with the guy remember, and the worst thing that he did was get drunk and cry about some spider he once had as a pet. Believe me, he's harmless."

"But he is a giant!" Pansy says, visibly shuddering. "Think how dirty his hut must be!"

I finish off my breakfast and get ready for our first ever Potions lesson. I must admit, I'm a little apprehensive. Even though Snape is head of our house, I have often caught him glaring at me from across the Great Hall. It makes me feel uneasy.

When we arrive down in the dungeons, the Gryffindors are already standing around waiting outside Snape's classroom. I attempt a smile at Ron, but he just screws up his face and looks the other way.

The bushy haired girl stood next next to him - Hermione - smiles at me however, and I give her a little wave. Yet this seems to only infuriate Ron further, his scowl deepening.

In the classroom, I sit with Draco, as has become the usual in our lessons. It's almost as though our handshake has cemented us as 'best' friends. I'm okay with this - he's like a Dudley replacement.

"I don't know why you are so insistent on trying to make friends with them," Draco mutters as he removes his quill from his bag. "It's just a waste of time, they don't like us."

"My parents were both Gryffindors, though," I argue. "They can't be all that bad."

"I beg to differ."

I jump at the sound of Snape's voice. I hadn't realised he was standing right behind us. Turning, I look up at him, feeling shock at the look of pure hatred in his eyes.

"Uh- hi, Professor." I say not being able to hide the slight tremor in my voice. "I'm Harri Pott-"

"Do you honestly think me such an imbecile that I don't know who exactly is in my house?" The greasy haired man spat.

Woah! Talk about hostile. I am beginning to think that he will get on well with my aunt and uncle. They - along with Ronald Weasley - can form a 'We Hate Harri Potter' club.

"No-no, Professor," I say quickly, feeling my cheeks flame as the entire class stares at me.

He glares at me for a long minute, before swishing his long black cloak and making his way to the front of the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he begins, addressing the class.

As he continues to drone on, Draco and I exchange a look. Draco's eyebrows are raised. I subtly shrug my shoulders in response.

"Potter!" says Snape suddenly, making me jump. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

I have absolutely no idea, unlike Hermione Granger whose hand had shot in the air at once. Draco quietly snickers.

"I don't know, sir," I say.

Snape's lips curl into a sneer.

"Tut, tut - clearly fame isn't everything."

He ignores Hermione's hand and I can sense Draco literally shaking with laughter next to me as Snape continues his harassment of me.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?

My face grows hot, for I have no idea of the answer, or what even a bezoar is. Surely Snape doesn't expect me to know this already?

But Hermione clearly does, and she is a Muggle-born. I look around, no one else has their hand up.

"I don't know, sir," I say again, looking pointedly towards Hermione's quivering arm which Snape is still ignoring.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stands up, her hand stretching towards the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," I say quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you ask her?"

This gets a few laughs, and even Ron catches my eye, his scowl gone - replaced by... admiration?

Thankfully, Snape gets bored of picking on me and gets us to work in pairs to make a potion. Draco seems to know what he's doing so I just let him take charge.

"He really doesn't like you," Draco unnecessarily points out. "What did you ever do to him?"

"Nothing!" I say, angrily chopping up gurdy roots at Draco's instruction. "This is the first time I've even spoken to him!"

Draco looks up at me from stirring the potion, his grey eyes flashing as a smirk plays at his lips.

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?" He chuckles.

"I just had enough of this at home," I sigh irritably, my heart twisting as I wondered if it was just me that made people act this way.

Draco immediately goes quiet, ceasing his laughter as he continues to stir the potion.

"Maybe he's just jealous? You do have nice hair."

Oh. I can't help but flush as I meet Draco's eyes, my lips tugging up at the corners.

*****

"Harri!"

I am making my way across the grounds towards Hagrid's hut when the sound of my name stops me in my tracks.

I turn around and see Ron running towards me, almost tripping over his big feet as he does so. Curiosity makes me wait.

"Ha- Harri-" he gasps again as he slows to a stop, his face red like his hair. "Snape- he hates you."

"And you ran all the way over here just to state the obvious, did you?" I snark. "Well, thanks for that, but I'm running late, so if you don't mind?"

I am irritable. Not only do I feel as though I've just had an encounter with my uncle, now I have to spend my afternoon in a hut making small talk with the drunk gamekeeper.

"Where are you going?" Ron nosily asks. "Don't we have the afternoon off?"

"Not that it's any of your business," I retort, still sore about the way he snubbed my apology, "but Hagrid's invited me over for tea. He's a good friend of mine you see."

Well, that is stretching the truth a bit, but I don't want Ron thinking I'm going under duress.

"Oh, great!" Ron says enthusiastically. "Mind if I tag along? I've been wondering what he keeps in that hut."

I raise an eyebrow. "What happened to you only wanting to hang out with Gryffindors?"

"Yeah, but that was before Snape... well- you know..."

"Treated me like one, you mean?" I laugh bitterly. "Still, you can't accuse him of favouring the Slytherins now."

"Cheer up," Ron says. "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. At least he didn't with you."

"Yeah, I wonder why that could possibly be?" I say sarcastically. Our eyes meet and we both start to giggle.

Ron looks at me, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "So... can I come then? To Hagrid's, I mean?"

"Only if you admit that I'm alright for a Slytherin."

"You're alright."

And, without saying anything further, he began to lead the way to Hagrid's hut, with me following behind, not being able to stop the smile pulling helplessly at my lips.

*****

When we reach Hagrid's hut, I don't anticipate getting attacked by an enormous black boarhound whose booming barks vibrate the ground beneath our feet.

"Back, Fang - back." Hagrid bellows as he struggles to keep hold on the collar.

I am glad Ron is with me so that I can use him as a human shield. I have had a canine phobia ever since I was bitten by Aunt Marge's bulldog, so this is horrifying to say the least.

"'Es soft as shit," Hagrid says, upon seeing me cowering behind Ron. "Bark worse than 'is bite. Come in, make yerselves at home."

Easy for him to say! Literally none of what he has said is comforting to me.

I do not let go of Ron's back as we step gingerly inside the hut. As soon as the door slams shut behind us, Hagrid lets go of Fang who then bounds straight towards us, jumping up at Ron and licking his face while I try not to wet myself behind him.

"Told yer," Hagrid chuckles oblivious to my discomfort. "Soft as shit. Now who wants rock cakes?"

Fang gets bored of Ron and begins jumping up my back. I close my eyes and try desperately to steady myself as his great weight nearly topples me over. A wet tongue starts enthusiastically licking my ear and my heart is racing so hard that I think I am going to pass out, because I am waiting for teeth to sink into me and the feeling is unbearable.

Eventually enough however, Fang gets bored of me too, and jumps back down, bounding over to Hagrid who throws him a rock cake.

Ron turns around to look at me, his face full of sympathy. "I get like that with spiders," he admits, "and at least they don't lick your face... I hope..." He shudders at the thought.

Feeling completely embarrassed by my reaction, I shakily take a seat in a scruffy old armchair, keeping a wary eye on Fang - who seems to be making quite a struggle of the rock cake.

"Yer not a fan of animals, then?" Hagrid asks as he pours boiling water into a large teapot.

"Just dogs," I say quitely, my voice not quite working properly after my scare. "I was bitten once."

Eight times, actually. Aunt Marge's dog isn't called Ripper for nothing.

"Fang'll change that," Hagrid says, placing a tray of rock cakes and tea down on a large wooden coffee table. "Now, whose yer friend?" He says, peering at Ron with interest. "Gotta be a Weasley, surely?"

Ron, with a mouthful of rock cake already, nods. "I'm Ron," he says thickly, spraying crumbs everywhere. "Ron Weasley."

Hagrid chuckles, unbothered by bad manners. "Nice ter meet yer Ron. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, as I'm sure yer already aware of. I know yer father, Arthur. Good man he is."

I help myself to a rock cake and instantly regret it when I can't unstick my teeth.

When eventually I am able to talk again, I find the afternoon actually flies by, with Ron and I telling Hagrid all about our first week. By the time we leave, it is already getting dark and we realise it is almost dinnertime.

Hagrid waves us off as Ron and I trudge back to the castle.

"Have you named your owl yet?" Ron asks.

I shake my head. "No, I'm stuck."

"Good because I thought of a great one."

"Oh?"

"Hedwig."

I smile. I like it.

"Hedwig. I think it'll suit her. Thank you."

We pause at the top of the stone steps.

"Thank you." Ron says, quite unexpectedly.

"Thank you for saving me from a big scary dog."

We both laugh, and then fall silent.

"Friends?" Ron asks, tentatively holding out his hand.

But instead of shaking it, I throw my arms around him, hugging him.

"Friends," I agree, laughing.

I guess he isn't that bad, after all.

*****