When the last of his Snakes had gone from the common room, he took his leave. Not bad, he decided as he entered his own quarters and poured himself two fingers of firewhiskey to enjoy along with his latest missive from the Potion Masters Alliance of Europe.
It would have gone perfectly, if only he had not been saddled with the Brat Who Continued to Surprise Him.
Severus was unsurprised to hear his monitoring alarm sound. He groaned, rolled over, cancelled the spell and launched himself from bed, still only half awake. His mouth was tacky from the firewhiskey, and he squinted into the bright light of his rooms as he pulled on his outer robe. Had he gotten two hours this time? Three? Really, on the first night, he should just eschew sleep, altogether. Every year it was the same; one of his urchins decided they were too good for rules and attempted to try his patience and his "Everywhere at once-ness," by not adhering to the schedules he had scrupulously devised. Without fail, every year, some Snake or other sneaked out of bed earlier or later than they should have, and he was left needing to set them to rights.
The only question, every year, was who was fool enough to face his wrath.
Harry sneaked into the bathroom with his toiletry bag and took a towel from the cubby just inside the door. He absolutely had to shower before anyone else was up. It was tempting fate to do so, he knew, but he couldn't bear the inevitable laughter and stares if his dorm mates saw him naked. And almost worse, he couldn't deal with the thought of earning detentions so early in the term for not having proper clothes.
He'd lain awake most of the night thinking about the Sorting, and about the new rules they were to memorize, and trying frantically to come up with a way to avoid getting detention for the rest of his life before he could do something about his tatty, too large clothes. He wished he'd had more time at Madam Malkin's when he was buying the rest of his school clothes - his robes, trousers, tie and all were new - but Hagrid had been running late, he said, and they'd arrived at the clothier only moments before closing. Fortunately, the proprietress had only them for a customer, so they were able to get through the fitting quickly. Unfortunately, no one had thought to mention pants. This morning, he had to send Hedwig off before anyone was the wiser, which meant getting up very early and getting to the owlry and back before anyone noticed he was gone.
Professor Snape was not one he ever wanted to cross. He'd caught the looks Snape had sent him during the meeting earlier, and he wondered what he'd done to make the man angry at him already. It was probably just that Harry got sorted into his House; no one had been happy about it at supper. Harry wasn't sure what he could do to be accepted here, but the first thing he needed to do was get presentable. He didn't want to be an embarrassment to his Housemates.
After setting Dudley's hand me downs on a bench beside the showers, Harry turned on the tap and was immediately surprised to find hot water. Not too hot, but pleasant for the purposes of bathing. He was so used to cold water showers only that it seemed awfully extravagant, and he vowed to make quick work of his washing up. He put his glasses within easy reach of the shower stall, and stepped under the flow of water. It was glorious. The heat of the water soothed away the aches of bruises and strained muscles, as well as the almost constant headache from glasses that weren't quite right.
He did a fast scrub with shampoo over the messy hair that he could never tame no matter how hard he tried, then soaped up his scrawny – according to the Dursleys – body, rinsed quickly and deftly turned the water off in under three minutes. He was reaching for his towel when someone grabbed his arm and dragged him, completely starkers, out of his stall. He didn't yet have his glasses on, but he would recognize the billowing robes of the Head of Slytherin through a thick fog.
Oh, gods, no.