Disclaimer: Don't own it, and am not crazed enough to dream of owning it. Oh whatever. I can dream, can't I?
WARNING: male/male, yada yada yada. Fire extinguisher is ready.
There were a lot of very unpleasant adjectives that could describe the mood he was in when he woke up that morning. You could say he was peeved, angry, furious, livid, enraged, mad, irritated, irate even. But to put it quite simply, as is usually best, Harry Potter was in denial, and not happy about it.
Far from his usual nightmares of Lord Voldemort and the Dursleys, Harry had been having a particularly nice slumber. His dreams had been filled with pleasant fields and unicorns, watching the Giant Squid devour Malfoy, Death Eaters being chased through an underwater maze by vengeful merpeople, and him winning the Quidditch Cup. But no, it was not destined to last. There, in his wonderfully happy and unconscious state, he had to be bothered by the one person that could make him angrier than Malfoy, the one being that he hated on a much more personal level than how he hated Voldemort. Somehow, Severus Snape had shown up in the previously-blissful place.
It would have been fine if something cool had happened to him like being dragged away by murderous centaurs, or slung over a roasting spit alongside Delores Umbridge, or something even as crazy as having Hagrid cast one of his horrendous transformations on him, only to leave the Potions Master bat-winged. Once again, it simply was not destined. It had been one of those dreams.
As most single-minded and perverted post-eleven-year-olds will know, having one of those dreams about your Potions professor was not something to leave you in a great mood. Well, it would have, I suppose; the thing was, Harry Potter found himself undeniably affected by this dream, and had no intention of coming to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Severus Snape.
Harry had woken up wide-eyed, taken one look at his soiled pajama pants, screamed, and cast twenty cleaning charms on them. He had then promptly torn off all his clothing and ran starkers to the shower so fast that it took his roommates a minute to realize something had happened. Ron blinked blearily a few times, turned to the entwined forms of Seamus and Dean, and said, "Did Harry just run by naked?"
x
When it came time for breakfast, Harry entered the Great Hall behind his roommates, practically attempting to hide behind them. He had forbidden himself from looking at the Staff Table and therefore kept his eyes glued to the seat at the Gryffindor Table that he would soon be occupying. The second his eyes landed on food, however, his stomach gave a sickening lurch. On top of all this, it seemed he would have to go hungry today.
As Harry sat staring at his empty plate in a trance-like state, he vaguely heard Ron recounting the story of Harry screaming and running to the bathroom completely devoid of clothing. Somehow Romilda Vane seemed to have heard about it in the ten minutes that it took for Ron to finish eating, because at the very inconvenient time that Harry and Ron were walking out of the Hall past the Staff Table (Harry's eyes were glued to the ground), she passed him coming in and said in a very loud voice, "Hey Harry, heard what happened to you this morning!" and rushed by in a fit of giggles, surrounded by other fourth year girls. Harry blanched, colored, blanched again, sent a furious look at Ron, and stomped out of the Great Hall without so much as a backward glance.
x
While everyone kept giggling at him and Ron apologized (while stifling his own snorts of laughter) repeatedly, Harry dreaded that afternoon. They had Potions, of all classes to have on a day like this. Harry sat in his seat in History of Magic with a scowl, a very scary scowl at that. Even Hermione was so distracted today that she was not taking notes.
"For the last time, Ron," Harry said with a clenched jaw, "I'm not mad at you."
"Well you look awfully angry," Ron said lightly.
"It's not at you, I can promise that," he replied.
"Harry, if you're not mad at Ron, what's got your knickers in a bunch?"
Harry glared at Hermione. "I despise the knickers comment."
Hermione giggled and added, "Seriously though, why are you so angry? All that happened was you had something very embarrassing relayed . . . to the whole school . . ."
Harry continued glaring at the two of them.
"Really mate, why'd you scream in the first place?"
He huffed. He really did not want to tell them, and had absolutely no intention of doing so. "I—Well—It's none of your business!" And with that he put the scowl back in place and turned to the front of the classroom.
x
By lunchtime, Potions Master extraordinaire Severus Snape had heard enough from a whispering group of fourth year Gryffindors to be thoroughly entertained. He watched while Potter entered the Great Hall, looking very angry and focused solely on the distance between himself and his seat. Severus replayed the description of what he had heard happened in his mind, and had to hold back laughter of his own. The boy had apparently woken up screaming and proceeded to rip all his clothes off and dash nude to the shower. Besides being completely hilarious, he was wondering what could be the cause of such actions. If he didn't know better, he would think Potter had had one of those—
At this point Pomona was staring at his expression of hilarity with concern.
x
Harry walked towards the dungeons like a man walking to the gallows. He would not let nervousness get to him; he had his furious frown firmly in place, and stomped his way angrily. They were almost late, and Hermione and Ron had to run to keep up with his pace.
He stomped into the Potions classroom, continued stomping all the way to an empty seat at the back, paused dramatically, and sat down with a huff. A couple seconds later he was joined by Ron and Hermione.
Harry could feel the gaze of his professor on him as he stared determinedly at his cauldron, but his anger multiplied when Snape began to give them instructions in his stupid, deep, stupid, sexy, STUPID voice.
He somehow managed to get half-way through his potion without so much as looking at the git or his clothing, and was chopping a sprig of mint furiously when he sensed doom standing behind him.
"Do tell Mr. Potter, do you know the difference between chopping and pounding to a useless pulp?"
Harry felt his anger building. How dare that sexy bastard insult him! Harry calmly set down the knife and turned around to glare irately into the smirking face of Severus Snape. Everyone was staring nervously at the two, wondering what Harry would say back, and how low a mark he'd get today. What happened thoroughly surprised everyone.
Harry threw up his arms in resignation, shouted "DAMN YOU!", and ran out of the dungeons without bothering to pick up his bag.
Everyone, including Professor Snape, sat there blinking in shock. Then Neville's potion exploded.
x
A/N: Should I continue? Lemme kno!