Hi hi~~

So I.. have been under some serious stress and lack of internet for a while. Do not get me wrong, I still am and will be for the foreseeable future. Deeply sorry but honestly cannot be helped.

(Also I accidentally deleted like half of my original chapter which was totally my fault be we are just going to ignore that for like, forever)

I have not re-edited my last chapter, and I have barely edited this one but I am off to Sri Lanka tomorrow for the first time by myself for a university trip and am currently freaking out at my first big step into adulting. Yup. I'm going to have to socialise with strangers on a trip that asks for more athletic skill than I currently posses. Fuck.

Anyway, while you now hold the knowledge that I will possibly be eaten by a leopard or get hepatitis B, I do hope you are all more forgiving toward my very late update. Honestly I wanted to write more stuff into this but I haven't and probably won't. Nonetheless,

Enjoy~~

The one where Death finally gets someone to bring him to bed. In the unsexiest way possible.

Word gets out that Percy Weasley has somehow managed to get Harry Potter to date him. It was inevitable really. They were holding hands together when the entered Platform 9 and 3/4s, they somehow managed to stand together in a way that maximized as much body contact as possible without looking like idiots, and Katie Bell caught them making out just outside the prefect compartment. While Percy was a little shy about it, Harry seemed to have no problem admitting their relationship to the public. It's not like he particularly minds if it's a secret or not, but he thinks that Percy deserved the ego boost that came with the publicity of having someone famous unashamedly admitting their affections for him.

Ron, as usual, complained loudly about how disgusting they were being and demanded food to heal the mental scars he was incurring just looking at them. Though obvious unhappiness about his best mate being stolen by his stuck up big brother aside, the redhead had been taking the whole thing rather admirably. Supportive, but not supportive enough to want to hear anything or watch them kiss, or touch, or say anything remotely romantic.. Harry could live with that. Hermione thought they were absolutely adorable, and applauded them for being so proud about their sexuality. Then she pulled a Mr Weasley and interrogated them about safe sex practices her dentist parents stressed to her about.

Draco was deeply unhappy about this new status who, mainly he seemed more upset his friend was dating a Weasley more than anything, especially one who was, 'so old'. And more than a few older Gryffindor students had passed by him, patted him on the back, winked, and then walked off without saying a word. That was certainly weird.

The Weasley twins, Fred especially so, were still showing signs of deep unhappiness. Even revulsion. Harry thinks maybe they got dumped, or maybe it's teenage moping because Percy managed to get a relationship before them. He's fairly sure Percy is one of the reasons for it, the poor prefect was certainly fraying at the edges a tad what with the barrage of increasingly mean-hearted pranks he's fell victim too during the holidays.

It was only when Percy burst into his room, angry, face blotchy with unshed tears and terrible, rude insults inked on his skin did Harry had to force his hand and put his feet down.

"Okay what the hell guys?" He had slammed the door open to the twins' room angrily, Fred and George's heads snapped up in identical expressions of surprise, guilt and a terrible attempt at innocence. "I know you like picking on Percy, and yeah I admit I find your pranks hilarious, but this is getting downright cruel now."

"We don't know what you're talking bout." George says mulishly.

Harry sighed angrily, "The insults, the constant rain cloud that followed him for a whole day, that goddamn creepy doll that keeps following him around."

"Oi," Fred protested weakly, "that doll ain't creepy."

The younger boy shuddered. "That thing frightens me far more than it does Percy." He confesses, because it's a fucking nightmare on porcelain legs and he needs it gone like, three days ago. "You know it's mental right? I tried to burn it up and it comes crawling back, barely a curl out of place."

"Yeah... We didn't have multiple copies of the doll or anything." Harry looks absolutely aghast at the idea.

He doesn't like dolls much, with their unblinking painted faces and frozen pretty features crudely trying to mimic a life never there. He doesn't like how they are almost always children. And he doesn't like that all the creepy fucking vengeful things in the world for some reason prefer to posses those things over legitimately anything else in the entire world they reside in. Like, what was up with that? It's either dolls or actual children. No one wants to posses a rich billionaire or a Ms Universe or their favourite actor, no, because that apparently would be a complete and utterly stupid waste of their ability.

"That is horrid." He says vehemently. "Absolutely horrid. Why would you even-" Harry stops short and just gives the two an odd look. "Um, by any chance are you two homophobic?"

Now its Fred and George who looked appalled. "What?" "No!"

"Because that's okay," Harry barrels on. It's the 20th century, albeit the later side of it, but there's not many earth worlds that have accepted the notion of homosexuality in this point of time. Harry gets it. The union of two individuals of the same sex doesn't produce offspring which is technically against the whole 'ensuring the species' thing they all have to do. For organisms that actually need to reproduce to preserve their genetic information, it's not exactly hard to see why all of that sort of discrimination popped up in the first place, still, humans especially take quite the long time to get over those things. "I mean if us showing affection makes you two uncomfortable then-"

"It's not that!" Fred protests while George mutters under his breath, "Well, it's a little that." And the other twin promptly jabs his counterpart in the ribs. Harry just raises an unamused eyebrow.

"We are not homophobic." Fred insists. "I'm gay." And wow, Harry didn't know that. This is a pretty terrible coming out all things considered. "And George is bisexual. Probably." And somehow, George's coming out was that much worse.

"Okay." The raven haired wizard said slowly. "That still doesn't explain the colour changing shampoo, or the doll-" "Annabelle." "Of course it is. Anyways, look, good for you two for not hating on same gendered relationships, still doesn't tell me why you are both being complete pricks."

The twins both pointedly did not look at Harry. Harry narrowed his eyes into threatening slits of green.

"I am completely okay with you guys not answering me. But only if you are completely okay with me hurling abuse at you two and me thinking that you guys suck for the remainder of whenever this pettiness stops and you apologise to Percy."

The Weasley teens lasted valiantly right until Harry inhaled dramatically and opened his mouth to begin the first scathing insult. Which was barely any time at all. Really, wet toilet paper could have lasted longer.

"It's nothing against you." George says.

"Or Percy." Fred continues, though George mutters something unseemly under his breath which Harry can't hear. "And we don't have a problem with gay relationships."

"You just have a problem with ours." Harry concludes for them flatly.

It's as if finalising their thoughts and speaking them aloud really seemed to solidify the thing that had been dancing around their conversation since the very beginning. Harry is faintly surprised at how it hurts him to say it, knowing how true it is already. The twins in turn look ashamed at it.

"We, we're just not.. used to it." George grits out. It's flimsy and weak and obviously not the whole truth but Harry thinks that if the two are trying this hard not to say it, it probably wouldn't be a truth that would benefit anyone by coming out.

"But we will.. eventually." Fred amends. He's sad, the boy can tell, sad in the way his counterpart is angry and Harry honestly doesn't know what to do with that. It's somehow his fault he feels. Wait. No. It's probably, definitely, his fault.

"I, uh, good." Harry cough awkwardly, righteous anger dying out. Now he's just.. There. Unsure how to proceed.

There's a silence after that. It's awkward, because of course it is. And Harry fumbles out an excuse to leave and a demand to destroy the devil child dolls, something which earns him two amused noises and two freckly smiles, before quickly making his exit.

It's odd after that, with the twins. They've stopped the pranks since then at least but somehow, Harry doesn't feel at all pleased. He hopes it'll get better with them in time.

The situation between Harry and the Weasley twins did get better in time. Well it helped quite a bit that a few weeks after school started, Percy and Harry had broken up. Officially, it was a mutual understanding based on various factors that arose as the school term started. Unofficially, it was pretty much the same thing except it wasn't that mutual and Harry may or may not have been high on potions at the time.

But that's for later.

Surprisingly enough, Zacharias Smith and Gilderoy Lockhart do not get along at all. Harry only realised this as he was forcibly roped along by Lockhart one day to listen to the man lecture about PR tactics of the famous and rich. Smith and his cronies passed by at the time, and the look of mutual disdain that plastered on both their features was almost worth the twenty mind-numbing minutes leading up to it.

This revelation was particularly hilarious to the entity-on-hiatus considering that the two individuals seemed so obviously to come from the same strain of narcissistic idiocy. The only difference was that Smith enjoyed being a rich, talentless bully while Lockhart was a rich, talentless hack. Apparently there was a limit to the number of egomaniacs in a castle.

"That boy," Lockhart huffed as Smith and his gang walked out of hearing distance, "is a loudmouthed attention seeking menace."

Harry choked. "What."

Tutting, the professor patted his back assuringly, "I know it's wrong to say such things to a student, but I know you would understand dear Harry. Us sort of intellectuals cannot help but feel irritated in those who seek to garner fame through exaggerations and obvious lacking of skill to back up themselves."

There was just so much wrong with that one statement. Harry didn't even know such sheer hypocrisy was possible. Say what you will about the moron, he is on a whole other level to anyone Harry's ever had any displeasure of meeting. "What."

Lockhart smiled, completely misreading the raven haired wizard's reaction, "Of course that's not to say I don't understand. Children like that do tend to show their feelings with boasts and insults, especially to the cute ones right Mr Potter?" The teacher winked.

Harry suddenly felt quite queasy at the implication. "What."

"Then again, excuses aside, Smith's snotty attitude definitely needs some work. Luckily he's got such a great and esteemed teacher like myself to try guide him out of his self-absorption."The defence professor gave a small, regretful sigh, "Well, I am sorry for cutting our simply scintillating conversation short, but I do have work to do. We simply must do this again soon, ta." And with a jaunty wave, and a little skip in his step, Lockhart bided his leave, leaving Harry in the hall, befuddled, confused and with a loss for words save one.

"What."

The first staff meeting of the term was less a meeting of staff and more a meeting for gossipmongers over the age of twenty. Each professor rushing in to discuss with great emotion about one very specific subject. And no, it certainly was not about the fact their school was being terrorized by Slytherin's beast and their students were dropping left and right. God, no, why in Merlin's name would they do that?

"I guess it's never occurred to me this would happen." Professor McGonagall admitted to Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sinatra. "I mean, to be perfectly honest, I thought if one of the Weasley boys were going to ask the boy out it would be the twins."

"Which one?"

Mcgonagall shrugged, "Fred? George? Both? I've always thought they came as a package really."

"Academically the pair make sense," Sinatra pointed out, "A hardworking honour student and a young prodigy passionate about new things, they would share similar interests."

"Both are very responsible and respectful young boys." Pomfrey agreed readily, "I'm not sure about Mr Potter's young age for this sort of thing, but I'm fairly confident Mr Weasley would know what he's doing."

The three woman paused contemplatively at that, however the lull in conversation was quickly interrupted by more professors coming into the room.

"I'm just saying," Professor Flitwick said exasperatedly to an aggrieved looking potions master, "Potter may be twelve but he's hardly much of a child. I hardly think Percy Weasley of all people has violated the boy in the dubious and nefarious manner you've implied. Mr Weasley's once almost cried the one time he forgot to hand in a simple assignment for Merlin's sake!"

Professor Snape looked thunderous, "Mr Weasley, should have waited till Mr Potter was a more appropriate age before making his less than platonic intentions known." He insisted venomously, "Potter may act older than he is, but I hardly think, what with his abusive past and all, that he properly understands what a proper relationship implies."

"Percy Weasley is a fine and upstanding young man," McGonagall butted in indignantly protective of one of her own. Snape sneered.

"Not upstanding enough to refrain from snogging a second year against the prefect's compartment."

"Oh my god that was true!?" Madam Hooch squealed like a teenage girl as she caught the tail end of the growing conversation. Following behind her was a beaming Lockhart chattering at a rather pained looking headmaster, and equally unenthusiastic looking Professor Grubbly-Plank, Professor Vector, Ms Pince and Mr Filch who all had the misfortune to bump into the defence teacher on their way here. "Is it also true that Potter was shirtless at the time? Because I can't exactly figure out if the rumours are either truth or just another fifth year's fanciful imagination."

The squib caretaker pulled a face at that. "Those brats have the dirtiest minds. I've confiscated six notes on the subject of Potter's love life, and I had to burn five of them, they were absolutely disgusting."

"What about the last one?" McGonagall inquired more than a little interestedly. Some of the other professors too were trying not to look too curious at the now uncomfortable looking caretaker.

"Well, it seemed not all the students are completely subpar in their literacy skills." The man coughed awkwardly in a pathetic attempt to explain himself. Truth be told, against his own wishes, Filch may have cried a little bit at the extremely touching story of Prince Harry and his royal advisor Percy forbidden romance that had been scribbled hastily onto a magically expanded napkin. There was drama and wit and a surprisingly good grasp on the characters considering that whoever had wrote this was probably not personally acquainted with the pair. Glancing up to see the inquisitive fascination in more than a few witches and wizards, he mumbled in a much quieter voice, "… I'll send you all a copy afterwards."

"I," Gilderoy Lockhart interrupted loudly and self-importantly, "personally do not find Mr Weasley and Harry well suited to each other at all!"

Snape's face, if anybody had bothered to look his way at that declaration, was quite comical. A mix between relief at someone sharing his sentiment on the new 'it' power couple, and deep revulsion of having to be forced to share it with someone who probably doesn't even understand what 'sentiment' even meant.

"What do you mean?" Professor Vector asked, "I may not know them too personally, but from what I understand, they are quite cute together." To everyone's immense irritation the blonde man shook his head and made a disappointed clucking sound.

"Can you not see?" He says rhetorically, before sighing dramatically, "Well, I guess it's understandable. Not many people are as experienced in empathizing with the students like I am. You have to learn to notice the little things, talk to the little bright eyed boys and girls, be personable."

"Oooh, why I ought'a-" The Hufflepuff head of house huffed angrily, rolling up her robe sleeves as she began running up to the self-absorbed man, only to be stopped by fellow Heads of both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw houses.

Lockhart failed to notice the rising ire of the rest of the room as he continued his tirade, "My dear little friend Harry over here is far out of Mr Weasley's league."

"Well, that's a little harsh." Dumbledore tried to defend.

"Pardon my straightforwardness Headmaster, but Harry is a hard-working, charismatic, magical prodigy that rivals even my own amazing traits!" Lockhart exclaims, he's blatantly complimenting Harry but in such a way that somehow he looks good doing so. It's almost admirable how he manages so, if it weren't so annoying. "He's friends with centaurs and ghosts and professors alike, all Houses seem to be fond of him, and despite his young age, is aesthetically pleasing enough to apparently both male and female students of varying ages to be seen as viable in some form." The blonde defence professor takes a deep breath, "Percy, while a prefect and notable in studies, I have noticed is far too serious and has limited friends. In my experience, there is going to be a lot of strain in this new 'relationship' what with the lack of privacy, the obvious imbalance between the two, and most importantly- the consequent judgements and jealousy from their fellow peers."

The professors stared as Gilderoy Lockhart fanned his face.

Professor Vector was the one to speak next, "That was.. surprisingly astute of you Mr Lockhart." She admitted.

Lockhart beamed and straightened up even further.

"I'm so glad you think so! After all, I didn't become an internationally famous wizard with a five-time award winning smile and title of one of the most bestselling authors, without knowing my way round some basic social tangles. Why, just the other day I had to-"

"Oh Merlin, now he's never going to go away." Snape muttered in the background.

Truth was, Lockhart was right. After the initial shock and awe in light of Percy and Harry's relationship, unrest began to settle in. There's the muggles who grew up in a more heteronormative environment who struggle with the whole concept entirely. The conservative purebloods who just don't like how open they are on such a, while not taboo but still looked down upon, affair. The ones who had hoped to earn Harry Potter's affections themselves. The ones who wanted Harry Potter's affections to be subjected with someone else's. And the really weird ones who fell into both of the last two categories.

Percy found himself conflicted. On one hand, he's never felt happier by Harry's side. They are good together. His twin brothers aside, those last few weeks of the holidays was easily the best of his life so far. But now between prefect duties, and schoolwork and the absolute hostility he was garnering from his fellow wizards and witches, Percy found himself running absolutely ragged with stress.

Harry tries to make him feel better, and he does, with soft kisses and cuddles and quiet reassurances. Yet even the prefect can tell the younger boy was feeling a little frustrated at everything as well. It didn't help there was absolutely no privacy in the school, well there was, but as a prefect he had to refrain from going to those places despite how tempting Harry pleaded otherwise.

So many people are judging him for apparently 'defiling' Harry's young body when really, Percy thinks he should earn some sort of award for resisting his boyfriend's immeasurable charms. Percy has been a fucking saint and sometimes he can't help but want to scream that at the Great Hall.

What's worse, Professor Snape, whose never been any Gryffindor's biggest fan, has for some reason made it his personal vendetta to try and murder the prefect with nothing but the hatred in his eyes and the venom in his words. It's all incredibly petty in his opinion, calling him out with questions clearly not in the given readings, loudly criticising his work in front of the class, even pointing out tiny mistakes in his potions as he exaggerates the flaws to the point it sounds like Percy was purposely trying to plot mass murder on the class. At this rate the prefect's fairly sure he's not too far off on that.

It all came ahead three weeks after the term started.

"Ah, well if it isn't Mr Weasley," The potions professor intoned coldly as Percy jumped at the sudden presence of the dour faced man. His name on Snape's lips somehow sounded like the crudest of insults.

"Professor." He replied back politely.

Professor Snape sneered at him, "And what are you doing here in the halls so late at night?"

Percy blinked dumbly. "Um. I was patrolling the halls. Because I'm a prefect. That is one of my duties."

If anything, the logical explanation made the older man's face sour further. The potions master scowled furiously, "Don't take that disrespectful tone with me, Mr Weasley." He barked, "Ten points from Gryffindor."

"But, that's not-"

"Three points for failing to address me properly, and a further five for talking back." Snape snapped before Percy could finish his protestations. "Now anything else you would like to add, Mr Weasley?" The professor asked mockingly.

"No sir." Percy says defeatedly.

Snape looked disgustingly pleased at the redhead's obvious misery in his opinion. As the man strode off into the shadows of the night where he probably belonged, Percy just felt.. tired. Worn.

He likes Harry. Harry is sweet and funny and beautiful. Harry despite every evidence to the contrary genuinely enjoy's Percy's presence. He makes Percy feel warm and giddy and actually attractive. He's happy with Harry.

But now Percy wonders if he's happy enough.

Severus slammed the door to his private quarter closed, rage and disgust in himself welling up. It doesn't help that a part of him, a large part of him, preens at his petty vindictive victory over the studious Weasley.

He wants to make the boy suffer for taking someone who was never his, to make him hurt how he hurts every single time he imagines them together. Imagines Harry actually returning the Weasley's feelings, smiling and blushing and so very much enamoured like all first loves do. Severus takes out his wand and bites out a hex which results in one of his more favoured decorative vases to shatter, and shatter, and shatter.

There's the very fleeting satisfaction of destruction, before the ache of jealousy, unrequited want fills him again. He can't help but lash out, to jab and barb, to humiliate, to hurt, anything to try alleviate his own selfish self-inflicted pain.

It's awful how familiar it is. The feeling. Chasing something that will never be caught. But it's different too. Worse.

It's darker and uglier. Seeping through his chest and making it hurt unbearably, his ribs are closing in, suffocating his lungs, his heart, his everything.

He wants to scream and pull them apart. It hurts so bad he can't sleep for days.

"So I think I should be the one to do the actual stealing." Hermione said as they walked toward their double potions class. "That means you two will have to make a diversion to keep Professor Snape busy."

Harry and Ron exchanged uncomfortable looks. "You couldn't have told us this a bit earlier Hermione?" The redhead asked, "Because I would have liked to have written my will first."

"Oh don't be overdramatic," Hermione dismissed, "Snape won't kill you guys. Just don't get caught."

"Easy for you to say." Harry groused, deeply unhappy at the idea of causing an sort of havoc in Snape's classroom. He doesn't like the thought of making the older man upset with him. He doesn't like the thought of most people getting upset with him to be perfectly honest. Except for Zacharias Smith. That boy can go suck a lemon while kissing a dementor for all he cares.

"Also, if we do get caught," Ron pipes up, "We all know that its gonna be me that greasy git takes it out on. Snape favours Harry just as much as Malfoy."

"That's not- Professor Snape doesn't- does he really?" Harry asks shyly. If Ron could roll his eyes any harder, Harry was sure even the earth's rotation would be affected. The boy had no idea why his freckled friend would even roll his eyes in the first place, it was just a question.

"The point is," Ron sighed, "I am not exactly going to come out this well if Snape finds out who's behind setting his classroom on fire."

"Well you have Harry to help back you up." Hermione assured. "Even if it's Harry."

"And who says we have to set anything on fire?" Harry asked dubiously, "Seriously. Who told you two, diversion immediately equated to arson?" Because this seemed to be the start of a disturbingly recurring theme with the pair. Then, after a seconds pause, the boy did a double take at Hermione. "And what do you mean 'even Harry'?"

"Well Ron is right, you do have a-"

"I do not have a-"

"Are you three quite done gossiping outside my classroom, or do you still need another twenty minutes?" Snape drawled disapprovingly. Ron and Hermione gulped and shook their heads before quickly making their way to their seats. Harry lingered back a little longer so no one but Snape could see the shy smile and small wave he gave the older man before he made his way to sit in his usual seat next to Draco. Sitting otherwise would only draw unneeded suspicion.

Twisting to see Ron and Hermione whispering behind him, the green eyed child raised a questioning brow at the two Gryffindors. "Anything you might want to tell me?" He whispered, Draco was busy talking to Crabbe and Goyle about something so they had a good solid few minutes before the Malfoy heir would notice their conversation. The only thing that would divert the platinum blonde's attention even further would be if there was a mirror at hand. Heh.

"We're going to spill potion on you." Hermione whispered back.

"Sounds great." Harry smile froze. "Wait. What?"

Ron looked sheepish. "Yeah sorry about that."

"If it helps, when we mess up the potion, I'll make sure to neutralise any severely harmful effects." The bushy haired girl added oh, so helpfully. "That way, no one gets in too much trouble and there would be enough commotion to distract the whole class. Plus, Professor Snape is usually obligated to help any students harmed from a potion spill so that would get him out of the room for a while as well."

Harry narrowed his eyes, his green eyes bright and toxic. "What exactly do you mean by 'severely harmful'?" He hisses like a snake, stocked filled with venom and everything in his words. But before the two could say something back, before Harry could point out every single tiny thing wrong with this new plan, Snape just had to take that moment to stride into the middle of the room, demanding everyone's attention in setting up with the utmost care in preparation for making a Swelling Solution.

"Ugh, I like potions but this is so gross." Draco complained as he plucked out another pufferfish eye and holding it up to the light, inspecting it for any scratches. "Harry?"

"Huh, oh yeah." The boy hummed in absentminded agreement. Draco gave him a funny look.

"Uh, Harry are you alright? You seem kind of off."

"It's nothing." Just waiting for a messed up potion to hit him on the back and potentially give him some non-severe harm. Damn those two. He liked them, liked them very fondly actually, but damn, those two are such troublemakers. "Just a bit tired."

"Okay." Draco said uncertainly, and Harry felt quite touched that he saw genuine worry for him in the other boy's grey eyes. "W-well, don't fret Potter. I will take charge of today's potion. After all, no illness is going to ruin our perfect grades- and I refuse to rank lower than Granger in Potions."

Harry smiled and gave a friendly shoulder nudge to his friend, "Awww, you are just the absolutely best." Draco spluttered, his pale face aflame with a mix of embarrassment and pride at the praise.

"I will have you know," the grey eyed boy huffed, visibly flustered, "I already knew I was the best thank you very much."

The young wizard saviour giggled at his friend's dramatics, "Come on Draco, let's melt those eyes shall we?"

Which was of course when Hermione and Ron decided it was time to ruin a potion.

He just didn't realise that it was going to be his own potion they were going to explode.

Harry didn't even need to fake his scream. Hermione may have the forethought to neutralise the potion's major side effects with whatever she'd thrown into their bubbling cauldron, but she clearly did not think about what temperature can do to someone's body. It's a new and very unpleasant experience being doused by boiling potion in the face. Very unpleasant.

They are so lucky he is a very forgiving and passive aggressive entity, because he knows if his twin counterpart were in the same situation she would absolutely ruin them. Ruin them to the ground. Life is a bitch after all.

Distantly he can feel Draco scrabbling at his clothes and babbling his name frantically and Harry resolves to make the young pureblood his new bestest friend ever. It's only after a particularly sharp tug to his robe that his body finally gets the memo. Jerking out of its shocked stupor, Harry wasted no time in shirking off his outer robe and groaning as cool, blessed air made itself known to his body. Unfortunately said body was still covered by a soaked shirt and pants that was saturated in botched potion. The boy was beginning to feel the aftermath of the burning sensation, coupled with an unusual electric tingle he was fairly sure wasn't normal. He was more than fairly sure it wasn't normal when that tingle quickly evolved into full on spasm inducing shocks throughout his body.

He could feel everyone's eyes on him as his body involuntarily jerked at each jolt of electricity running through his veins like five year olds on a sugar high. Hermione better be taking good advantage of this moment because Harry was certainly not going to do this again. Visually, the boy was not seeing much but his ears was picking up a cacophony of chaos and noise. Ron was blubbering unhelpful reassurances and defending himself from Draco's snide remarks and Professor Snape was barking for everyone to calm down, sit down and shut up.

"Weasley, do not touch Potter if you value those sticky little fingers of yours." The deep voice of the potions master snaps, "We have no idea exactly how a simple Soothing Solution has caused such a mess and I have no intention of helping idiots who fail to use basic common sense in the face of much more serious cases."

In a softer but no less firm voice, Harry could hear Snape ask him. "Potter, can you hear me?" The boy flickered his eyes toward the crouched professor in what was hopefully some form of agreement. His mouth was too busy trying to hoarsely grasp for oxygen to form words at that moment. "I'm going to take that as a yes."

Harry dearly hoped his look of absolute derision was clear in his eyes, despite the whole burnt skin and spasming body distraction he had going on.

"Everyone, continue what you were working on before." Snape barked, "Draco, go get another professor to supervise- anyone but Lockhart obviously. Weasley, help clean up this mess. Granger- where's Granger?"

"She's uh, she saw what happened to Harry and had to go to the bathroom." Ron supplied quickly, the professor narrowed his eyes and curled his lips distastefully.

"Fine. Tell her when she comes back to help supervise whilst Draco gets a professor. I'll bring Potter to the infirmary."

The redhead nodded vigorously, his eyes glancing guiltily at his fallen friend. Luckily for him, everyone was far too busy also staring at the Boy-in-Pain to notice. It did not make Ron feel better though. As someone with more siblings than fingers on his hand, he knows he screwed up royally bad and there is going to be some serious sucking up in his near future. Like having to be Ginny's servant for a week sucking up. Except way more. After all, he may have broken his sister's leg, but he did just burn his mate's face off.

Snape whipped out his wand and cast a simple floating charm, something which Harry would've objected to considering how unflattering people tend to look prone and not lying on anything, but was far too immersed in experiencing the excruciating pain of being burned so thoroughly for the first time ever. Not that he intended to do that again anytime soon. He's interested in pain but he's far from being such an extreme masochist ta very much.

The injured boy wasn't completely sure what happened next. It was kind of like a slow, buzzing blur like the moments between a meaty punch and the fall to the floor, except much longer. He remembers being lifted out of the room, the wide eyes of students watching him and the deep tenor of Professor Snape as he switched between reassuring murmurs or muttered death threats. Or what he hoped were reassurances or death threats, Harry did blank out a few times so the man could just be reassuring death threats to his prone form for all he knew.

Soon enough though, Harry felt himself slip back into enough of a state of awareness to realise he'd finally made it to the medical wing.

"What happened?!" Madam Pomfrey gasped.

"Potions accident." Snape answered briskly, then in a lower murmur that Harry barely even heard, "Though I suspect some foul play at hand."

"Burns." Harry rasps from under the older man's hold, "And tingles."

The woman wasted no time in taking Harry's vague self-analysis, and turning it into a full out diagnosis with the help of some fancy spellwork. Snape now and again putting his two cents in what he thinks must have happened to the destroyed potion while at the same time gently leading the injured child toward a medical bed to rest. Harry just softly moaned every time he shifted on the mattress.

This was not how he envisioned his first time getting a grown man to bring him to bed as a mortal human. Not. even. close.

Warily he forces himself to lift one of his arms up to asses the damage of his skin. He winces at the rosy red colour where once was bone pale, and how his skin blistered and peeled. Harry doesn't really want to see what his face might look like right now. He feels weaker than he's ever felt before, let himself feel before and it's both humbling as it is terrifying.

"Professor?" Harry murmurs, and as if summoned, large, mercifully cool hands lightly touch his raised hand.

"Potter." Snape says as he smoothly places Harry's hand back onto the bed, "You have severe burning and your body is experiencing something akin to shock. And maybe slight nerve damage. Madam Pomfrey here will be watching you overnight to see if there's any magical side effects to your injury, if you don't show any alarming new symptoms in the thirty-six hours of strict supervision then.."

"Out?" He asks hopefully, because the green eyed boy could only really muster the energy to things one word at a time at best right now. The older man, as if sensing this, gave a tight smile.

"Yes Potter. But you'll have to stay with me for a while, it was the only way I could get Madam Pomfrey to agree- if you want, that is."

Harry did give that some thought. Like, a second of it, before agreeing with a sharp but pointed nod. The boy understood the logic of it of course, Snape was the resident potions master and therefore would have all the pain numbing potions and burn salves Harry could possibly need, not to mention have a better eye at detecting any symptoms and causes. But truth be told, logic had nothing to do with Harry's decision. Harry had no idea exactly what was the fuel that drove him to agree in staying with Snape in his personal quarters, but it was certainly not logic.

Though Harry did think it was a little odd that Snape of all people even volunteered to take care of him in the first place, was it a comment on their growing friendship, or was it that Harry was actually more injured than he'd thought? The boy didn't get to ponder this any further before he blacked out.

But really, what had Snape been thinking?

What had he been thinking?

Snape slammed the door to his bedroom behind him and groaned loud and frustratedly at himself. Man of control indeed. The wretched boy of his twisted affections gets hurt and his mouth immediately suggests the child stay by his side for the major duration of his suffering. It took a lot of Slytherin cunning and a healthy dose of bullshit just to get Poppy to stop looking at him funny, and even then he knows the woman threw some deeply suspicious looks his way while he was comforting the injured boy.

But it wasn't like he couldn't do anything. Not when he can see Harry's twitching burnt body and hear the boy's shocked howl of pain, rewinding and replaying like a muggle video in his mind. It's far from the worst accident that's happened in his classroom, but it's definitely up there in terms of agony alone. It would be monstrous not to want to take care of Potter in such a situation. He may be a monster to lust over a child, but he's at least not that sort of monster.

Doesn't stop the fact what he did was clearly a terrible idea. Doesn't stop the fact that Harry's apparently been shacking up with a Weasley and is completely, in all forms, undeniably unavailable. Doesn't stop the fact that some part of him, that treacherous, lecherous part, was whispering dirty, disgusting, less than decent things at the possible implications that could come forth with Harry sleeping with him. Staying with him. Doesn't stop the implications with Harry staying with him.

Harry hasn't even stayed one night with him and already Snape is losing his mind. Wonderful.

"We are so extremely positively sorry, Harry!" Hermione wailed as she threw herself across the room in her haste to hug the bedridden boy. Ron, being the observant one shot his arms out to stop the girl from her good intentioned path.

"Hermione you'll only hurt him more if you go and tackle him like that!"

The bushy haired Gryffindor looked ready to protest at that before she took another good look at the bandages and faint burn marks on Harry's face and just clamped her mouth shut, eyes stricken and ready to cry. "It's worse than it looks." Harry lied, it felt just as shite as he seemed.

The two second years didn't seem to believe it much either as they both adopted the same equally tragic, guilt ridden expressions. To be fair, Harry thought they kind of deserved it. Hot potion fucking hurt. And healing was never one of his strengths, quite the opposite all things considering. So not only does he know that despite his newfound powers he'll be recovering at a pretty slow rate, he's also been informed that there's a chance his perfect white skin is going to be marred from the incident. Not permanently though, thank god for magic potions and salves, but he'll have twisted raised gnarls of skin all over his face, neck and hands for a while. He's even had to shave the sides of his hair off so it'll be easier to apply lotions there.

Harry does admit he looks good with his new hairstyle. Might even keep it after he stops looking like a burn victim. Hell, maybe he'll keep some of the more attractive looking scars, if anyone could rock a near death experience, it would be him. Until then though, Harry's going to wear creepy plain white face masks to mourn the loss of his unblemished snow white skin.

"Oh Harry this is all my fault." Hermione cried, "I didn't even think about cooling the potion!"

"It's my fault too." Ron volunteered glumly, "I should have suggested a different idea, we should've done something else like flooding the floor."

"And boil everyone's feet in the process?" Harry croaked wryly.

Ron winced at the jarring, hoarse voice coming from the usually cool, almost silvery voiced friend. "Uh, yeah, guess that wasn't a great idea either huh?"

"How long will it take for you to-" Hermione trailed off, as she gestured helplessly at the mess of bandages and red skin and shaved hair.

"I'll be stuck here for a short while before hopefully the pain will just become manageable enough to continue schoolwork." Harry explained softly, not wanting to strain himself. "Honestly Madam Pomfrey wants me to stay for a good two weeks but Professor Snape was kind enough to allow me to stay with him instead."

"Oh that's so good of him!" Hermione gushed, eager to latch onto something that won't potentially make her bawl for the second time today. "Really, I know we didn't think the best of him before, but I guess we were wrong about how generous Professor Snape is. He's probably got better experience dealing with potion accidents and you'll get much more attention there than here, what with all the petrified students in the infirmary. Isn't Professor Snape great Ron?"

"Yeah Ron." Harry smirked. Or tried to anyway, the bandages and puffy burn marks probably made him look like he was grimacing. "Isn't Professor Snape so nice?"

The redhead opened his mouth before closing it after a moment's thought. Scrunching up his nose and looking like he was going to be slightly nauseous, the boy tried a, "That's.. He's... Well, Professor Snape does have his, uh, moments." Ron, for his troubles, gets a back handed slap on his chest from Hermione. "I mean, totally, yeah, Snape's bloke of the year. That man makes flowers fart glitter every time he- ow! OW! Hermione!"

Harry laughed, his throat felt like it swallowed shredded sandpaper and the boy was pretty sure he could taste blood in his mouth, but Harry was still fairly sure he wanted to keep these little humans as his friends despite it all. Even if they could be annoying and tend to cause excessive injury if handled wrongly. He liked them well enough.

Won't stop him from milking this whole thing out till the cows come home though. After all, they did burn his face.

"Oh that reminds me! We're not going to do the Polyjuice potion anymore, Draco seemed far too worried about you to be the heir of Slytherin, and we realised you were right Harry- what we were doing was stupid and dangerous."

"..."

Harry was wrong. Harry was going to wring their skinny little necks the moment he could lift his arms without whimpering. And Harry was going to enjoy every second of it.