Ok, wow, in retrospect I have been really making Harry cry, like a lot. Do I, do I have some weird crying kink that I only just discovered? Or is this the sadist in me blooming?
ALSO, I'm so sorry but this is pretty much a PWP chapter so very little plot was done because of smut... And since a lot of people on this site don't enjoy it, obviously I had to censor it right? So originally this was 11,800 words-ish but now it's about 7,500 words, which, I mean, is still quite a bit sooo.
Enjoy~~
(btw if you want the uncensored shit go to my Ao3 account with the same username and also check out my ko-fi account for a quick donation if you can spare the cash :) cheers)
The one where Death dabbles in exhibitionism, sucks a thumb and has a chat with a werewolf
(Or Alternatively, since I just realised two out of the three main points of the chapter is censored af: The one where Death gets rejected, tries to give Hermione a level up in friendship and has a chat with a werewolf)
The thing is, Harry doesn't dream. Not really. Just vague colors and feelings. It's never been a bad thing per say, awfully boring at times, but he's learnt to get over that and just relax into the feeling of floating in warm darkness. It's nice. Relaxing.
So why is it so unnerving now?
The constant blackness was suffocating, heavy with anxiety and oily with fear. It's cold. So cold. Stifling and icy and god, where is everybody? Anybody?
'Mr Riddle?' He calls out, because he should be here, he has to be here, 'Mr Riddle?!'
Panic is digging into him with rust and dust-covered daggers that make his insides itch in a way that can't be alleviated, he wants to claw himself open to free himself from the growing terror inside of him, let it loose before he bursts. 'Mr Riddle?!' He screams, he screams and he screams me he screams, 'Are you there?! Chaos?! Life?! Space?! Anyone?!"
Why is nobody answering? Why is nobody here?
His voice can't grow hoarse, but it feels like it was going to collapse, like it was going to crumple and leave him too. He can't bear the thought. The silence would be deafening. It's too dark. It's too fucking dark.
He can't do this. He can't, he can't, it hurts, the fear, the emptiness, why, why, why.
He wants to die.
But who would take his life?
"Harry," Severus shakes the younger wizard, gently at first but with increasing intensity as it becomes clear that whatever Harry was dreaming it was not at all nice. "Harry, wake up," Harry whimpers quietly, tears running down his cheeks but unnervingly the wizard saviour was making very little sound, maybe a product of his upbringing, something Severus would rather not dwell on right now, "Harry!"
"-uh, wha, S-Sever's?" Harry groaned just as the man was strongly contemplating on slapping him awake. Merlin the boy did love his sleep, even in the throws of a nightmare. "W's, t'was a dream?"
Severus nodded, wiping the shining tracks of tears down Harry's cheeks, "Yes Harry, it was a dream, just a dream."
The boy's lower lip wobbled and Harry pushed up to wrap his arms around Severus' broad shoulders into a tight embrace. "Thank god." He breathed out shakily, "Oh thank god."
And then Harry tilts his chin up and begins kissing Severus.
It doesn't register at first. It's some god awful time that's not night but definitely not morning and the professor has to admit that his awareness was not at his best at that moment so his own arms were wrapping around that slim back and his body was leaning into the kiss almost instinctively.
They kiss slow and lazy, Harry kneeling up between the potions master's legs and fervently running his hands against Severus' body almost desperately, like he needed to be sure of his existence. It's extremely flattering. No one has ever touched him like they needed him there before. It's only when the low thrum of arousal begins to spark into something aching that Severus finally snaps back to the reality at hand.
Literally. His left hand was resting at the curve of one very underaged wizard saviour Harry Potter's arse.
He pulls it away as if burned, though not without one last feel- it was a very nice arse, soft and pert- because at heart he's a horrible, horrible pervert trying his best not to be. Harry slowly separates his lips from Severus' when the older man had done so, probably sensing the change in mood. Severus is both pathetically grateful and mourning the loss.
Harry tastes like tears and Severus hates how arousing that was. He should not be attracted to Harry's tears. Even if Harry did look unfairly pretty when he tries and fails not to cry. Fuck. He is the absolute worst.
"I-I'm sorry." Harry quietly apologizes, looking down at his hands now in his lap and away from the professor. "I just," he bites his lip, looking lost and fragile, "I'm sorry."
Now Severus was the worst.
"Merlin Harry, I'm the one who should be apologising." He groans, "You clearly weren't in a good headspace and I, well, I knew that."
"You aren't exactly in the best mind either." Harry murmurs, the tears have stopped now and his mouth was curling into a wane smile, a little amused despite of whatever dream that had plagued him so recently.
"It is very late." Severus agrees. "Or incredibly early, I cannot exactly tell."
Harry huffed, a small breath of raspy laughter but it made him look so goddamn beautiful, Severus couldn't breath. He wants to lean back down and kiss the boy senseless again, gently push him till he lays onto the bed, his bed, and just-
Merlin. It's like he can't stop making new moral lows to stoop to.
"Yes, well," Harry huffed, wiping his eyes, "I'm fairly sure I would have gone to pieces if you shoved me away, so, yeah." Harry gives him a shy wobbly smile which tugs painfully at Severus' heartstrings. It's not fair. It is legitimately not fair that the potions master has to thank James fucking Potter for producing a being such as Harry into existence.
Of course Harry is absolutely wasted mooning over him of all people so maybe there is a twisted equilibrium of fairness in the universe.
"Do you.." The professor hesitates, he wants to ask about the contents of Harry's nightmare. Even when drugged to the gills it had seemed that the boy was incapable of having a bad dream. Sure sometimes he had trouble getting to sleep in the first place but once Harry finally sinks into the realm of unconsciousness he stays there. Snape knows. He's spent an embarrassingly long time watching him sleep. Like a creep. "Want to go back to bed?" He finally finishes. Severus knows when to press on and when to hold back despite how much his curiosity complains, his time as a spy had to be worth something after all.
Harry stiffened, just a slight tensing in his shoulders and a wary flicker of fear in his bright green eyes, barely noticeable but visible enough for someone as observant as Severus. "I-" Harry fidgets.
Severus touches the young wizard's cheek gently, "Or," He says quietly, his voice still gravelly from sleep, "Alternatively, I have, on good authority, heard that chocolate solves a lot of problems. And I think we have the sufficient ingredients to concoct some biscuits if you are amiable to it."
The boy blinks before grinning outright, Severus can't help but feel like there were a dozen tiny bats flapping about inside him. He was well over thirty, he shouldn't being feeling so besottedly fluttery over every single thing Potter does for fucks sake.
"Are you proposing we bake cookies?" Harry asked, incredulous but looking like he was quickly warming up to the idea. "That, that sounds really," The younger wizard giggled, "I'm sorry, it's just the idea of you baking cookies of all thing is a little hard to imagine."
"It's cookies Potter, I'm not a monster." Severus sniffed earning another laugh from Harry, tears now dried and forgotten.
"Well then, now that you say it like that, yeah, I could go for some chocolate chip cookies." Harry says.
It takes them about an hour to produce a rather pathetic amount of biscuits. It's mostly because Harry insists on the age old tradition of sneaking as much cookie dough in his mouth as possible and trying to pretend he was doing no such thing every time Severus so much as raised an eyebrow at his antics. But also, admittedly, because Severus may have taken a fair bit longer than usual stirring up the dough because he had been enjoying the way Harry had been staring very appreciatively at how he had looked with his sleeves pulled up to expose his tensing forearm muscles in motion. While they had waited for the goods to be baked they had jibed playfully on the hygiene problems that come with eating raw cookie dough, something that Harry vehemently believes is 'worth every possible negative outcome, trust me on this Severus."
Severus did. He got mild food poisoning a day and a half later but admittedly it was worth the delighted look of glee on Harry's face.
It was worth everything.
Despite Harry's more or less public stance on what he thinks about Professor Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts still became almost everyone's favorite class. Even Harry has to begrudgingly admit Defense was in his top three most enjoyable classes. Just because he thinks Lupin fucking sucks as a human and a creature, it doesn't mean he was a bad teacher after all, and the wolf-man was a very, very good teacher.
No one cares about the horrid state of his clothes or the fact he undermined a fellow professor or that Neville was strong armed into facing a boggart without even asking him permission first- well that's not exactly true. Occasionally whispers of discontent about the subject would rise up now and again but those topics would quickly be swallowed up by the waves of positive comments that came from the next few lessons.
Defence against the Dark Arts seemed to focus on studying a number of creatures, usually with live demonstrations accompanying these lessons. General information is provided on the species, alongside personality, habitat, diet and how to handle them if ever faced with one- it's a solid lesson plan overall that is further bettered simply by the fact that Lupin wasn't a complete and utter nincompoop.
Still, Harry kept to himself in those classes. Mainly because he knows what sort of message he sends out by doing only the bare minimum of the werewolf's classes, but also because he genuinely doesn't want to distract the class with his own presence. You can't show people how dangerous and bad tempered a runespore can be if said serpent was literally belly up with all three heads begging to be stroked and lavished with attention by Death.
Potions was so-so in comparison. Severus was a great potioneer but hardly a top-notch professor. If Harry was going to perfectly candid, he was surprised the man decided to get into teaching at all. The job suits him as well as a duck to lava.
It also hasn't helped that the story about Boggart Snape had traveled throughout the school like a flash flood and the damage on his reputation had yet to dry up. The man hasn't actually been as horrid as he could've been since he's stopped calling Neville out outside the classroom like Harry insisted he not do, but inside the classroom? Well, it's not so bad that Neville cries at the end of the hour, but sometimes it's close.
Harry likes to stick with Neville as his potion partner since Severus tends to be relatively kinder to the poor boy when he's around but apparently that just freaks Neville out even more.
"Are- are you serious?" Harry asks dubiously. "You rather Se-Snape calls you a blithering baby troll than sit with me?"
"I mean," Neville says awkwardly, "that's sounds incredibly bad now that you worded it like that but uh, yes?"
"Why?"
"Look Harry," Neville sighs tiredly, "Am I grateful that you have helped curb Professor Snape's need to murder me? Yeah, sure, I'm, I'm not a complete idiot, but,"
Harry waited patiently as Neville fidgeted more and more as the silence reigned on. "Neville are you going to tell me what's wrong or ar-"
"Your weird Snape thing is super weirding me out!" Neville burst out, red-faced.
Harry blinked.
"Like, I knew about it, most people do by now but, like, like, now that we're potions partners I never really knew you know?" The Gryffindor rushed out, looking rather shamed and desperate to not offend one of the few people that doesn't laugh at him all the time, "But then you started hanging out with me for potions and, well, well, I was really happy but, ehm…"
Ron suddenly appears as if summoned and claps his hand on Harry's shoulder, "Harry, you say very bad things under your breath."
"Excuse me?!"
Neville heaved a sigh of absolute relief, "Merlin, thank you."
"Wha- I do not!" Harry protests, offended and confused.
"Harry, mate, remember that time Professor Snape blasted on someone for not getting a larger stick of wormwood to stir their potion with and you said, and I quote, 'I wouldn't mind getting stirred up by his large stick of wormwood'?"
"Um." He does vaguely remember saying something along those lines. But the comment was right there! How could he not?
"When Snape told Finnegan that his cooling potion would scrape off the skin of his throat if he ever had the misfortune to swallow it, you responded by whispering to me, 'Not the only thing that could scrape my throat if I swallowed it.'" Neville added in, quietly but no less accusingly. The shy Gryffindor looked more confident in his complaints now that he has someone to back him up on them.
And, okay Harry does recalls that one. Not his finest moment. But still. "I don't do it that often." Harry weakly defends.
Ron, to Harry's surprise, actually nods thoughtfully, "That's true actually, Harry's weird gross Snape fetish thing aside-"
"One, that is RUDE AS FU-"
"-he's actually a legit crazy good potions partner which kind of makes dealing with all," Ron waves a hand in Harry's general direction, "that worth it."
"It's not just Harry," Neville explains, "It's Professor Snape too."
Harry and Ron stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Um. What." The redhead says.
"Wait so this is about you wanting to get yelled at by Snape?" Harry asks bewildered, "Because, Neville, I know I have a weird Snape thing or whatever but just because I like hands, that don't mean I like being choked." Harry paused as he reconsidered his last statement. "Well.. I mean…"
His freckled friend closed his eyes and sighed long-sufferingly, "Well, as much as I want to go into that can of flobberworms, I think we should let Nev explain his uh, opinion."
They look at Neville expectantly. Neville in response looks away and fidgets. Classic Neville.
"Professor Snape... he... he…" Neville sucks in a deep breath and in one go blurts out, "healwayskeepslookingatHarryanditsjustsuperuncomfortableallround."
"Merlin's balls." Ron breathed, his eyes dawning in realization, "I totally know what you're talking about! I just assumed he was just always staring at me." Ron shuddered.
Neville narrowed his eyes at his fellow Gryffindor. "You thought.. Professor Snape.. was looking… at.. you."
"Hey, it could happen." Ron argues, "Also I meant like, angry looking, like a 'Ohh what's that idiot Weasley boy going to do next?' kind of thing. I mean, I wouldn't know. I'm not dumb enough to actually look back."
"Yeah well, I have!" Neville huffed, "And he's only staring at Harry with this, this- I don't know! It's not angry or sour but it ain't soppy or smiling neither, just, staring."
"Nev, if he ain't scowling or glaring it totally counts as Snape being soppy and smiling." Ron shivered, "I can't even imagine it, Snape smiling."
"Professor Snape has a lovely smile." Harry protests, "Also what the fuck Neville, a few inappropriate comments and stares and suddenly you don't want to pass Potions class with me?"
Neville shrugged, "Pretty much, yeah."
Ouch.
Green eyes glared, "I missed the old days when you used to try not to hurt other people's feelings." Harry sniffed, Ron laughed and gave his fellow Gryffindor a one-armed hug.
"Nah, Nev's just growing into his own." Ron cheered, causing Neville to grin in response, "Don't worry mate, you can buddy with me in potions."
"Um, about that…"
If Defence was okay and potions were so-so then Professor Trelawney's class was possibly the most annoying. Partly because said professor keeps insisting he's going to die- which admittedly could suggest she isn't isn't a complete hack but just grossly misread the signs or, as Hermione insists, is totally doing it for the attention- and also because Harry's fairly sure Fate has been sending him troll messages in his fucking tea leaves. Seriously. There is no way he keeps getting penis shaped fortunes every. single. time. Goddammit Fate. Harry's just glad they haven't gone into crystal balls yet.
Care of Magical Creatures, while not as bad, was rather dull after the first lesson. Harry made it loudly known that it was all fucking Zacharias 'Oooh I got a scratch' Smith fault and was responsible for everyone having to look after flobberworms for the past few weeks worth of lessons. Flobberworms. What do they do? Flobber. That's it.
Fucking Smith.
Ironically Defence class is probably a better Care of Magical Creatures class than anything actually. Like, what the fuck, does no one plan their curriculums with the other professors. Seriously. This school.
"Darling, you've been doing nothing but complain about Hogwarts for the past forty minutes." Blaise rolls his eyes as he leans back on a fence. Harry rests his head on the darker skinned wizard's shoulder and sighs.
"I just don't understand why there's only one magic school in England."
"Lack of students?" Draco suggests, also listening in.
"I'm fairly sure more wizards and witches would get together more often if they weren't already sick of everyone being people they knew and grew up with for eight years." Harry replies dryly, "Also, think about it- another nearby school would mean Hogwarts wouldn't be satisfied stagnating in it's piss poor quality. If there was two schools there would be rivalry and competition much like our House situation, only instead of house points it's quality of education and equipment."
"That does sound pretty good." Blaise admits, "We could always do with some better things."
"I've heard from my father that Beaubauxton and Durmstrang has professors that oversee subjects of certain years so they aren't as overworked." Draco brings up. "It makes sense, they can focus on those years better and we'll probably be provided with a better education."
"That's all well and good but we hardly can afford new brooms, much less new professors." Blaise points out, "Though I have no bloody idea why, we certainly give enough tuition money to pay the average minister worker six times over its ridiculous."
"Not to mention the amount of galleons my father donates!" Draco gasps, "Where In Merlin's name is all that money going?!"
Harry silently recalls first year with the giant chessboard, the underground chamber filled with deadly plants, a super rare magical artifact mirror thing, and a troll that's hardly native to Britain. He wisely decides not to tell Draco where he suspects all his daddy's money has gone to. "I mean, I think they've separated some of the money for muggleborns who can't afford the tuition right?"
Draco and Blaise both made a disgusted noise, "Are you serious?" Draco scoffed, "Yeah, it's a legitimate problem for like orphans without a vault or whatever but tell me, how many people in this school do you really think cannot afford the schooling? And bear in mind, the Weasleys have managed to afford all their spawns a good education despite their... incredibly meagre lifestyle."
That. That's rather true.
Huh.
"Hey, Hermione," Harry called out, "What is your opinion about the muggleborn funding- still essential or rather redundant given everyone's general economic stability?"
Hermione and Ron, bent down with their hands filled with old lettuce, turned around to glare at the group of Slytherins. "As fascinating as your conversation sounds," The bushy haired witch hisses, "I believe my opinion is firmly on the 'get your arses over here and help us feed the flobberworms or so help me god I will personally chop you all up and feed you to Sirius Black'."
"Here here." Ron muttered darkly.
"Yeah," Harry drawled with a smirk, "Nah, I'm gonna have to hard pass on that ta. Delicate immune system and all from all the injuries I sustained last year remember?"
"Wha- then what about Malfoy? Zabini?" Ron splutters.
"Moral support." They reply in unison.
Ron groaned despairingly, "Slytherins."
"House has nothing to do with this Ron." Hermione mutters as she shoves her leaf of lettuce in front of a particularly large gross looking worm. The flobberworm slobbered over it enthusiastically. "I'm pretty sure they're just arseholes."
"Ugh, I cant believe I'm missing my first Hogsmeade weekend." Harry groused into his pumpkin soup. "On Halloween too, what the fuck. Just kill Sirius Black, it cannot be this hard."
Blaise kisses his neck playfully, "Oh baby, don't worry, I'll buy something pretty for you instead."
"Gag." Nott coughs.
Harry smirks before turning around to embrace his boyfriend with wide eyes, "Blaise, you needn't!" He gasps, as if genuinely surprised.
"Anything for my pretty boy." Blaise crooned, pressing a chaste kiss onto Harry's lips which Harry eagerly deepened.
"Double gag." Draco groaned. "You guys absolutely disgusting."
"Maybe I'll buy you something pretty to wear for me." Blaise mused, hands trailing purposely down Harry's lithe back, resting just above the swell of his cheeks. "What do you think Harry? Silk or lace?"
"Surprise me." Harry purred.
"I am quite interested to know what you would look like covered in gold and jewels," The tanned Slytherin confesses, dark eyes hooded and not even trying to hide his desire at the idea, "Maybe I should go to Esme's Enchanting Enchantments, I've heard they've got a few... interesting items." His hands finally reach further down to cup Harry's arsecheeks firmly, an obvious insinuation to exactly what sort of interests those objects lay in.
"Oh darling, you do care!" Harry squealed like the sugar baby he secretly is, and tried to kiss the laughter away from his guffawing boyfriend while his friends of green and silver boo and make gagging noises in the background. The couple just laughed and kissed and flipped everyone the bird before Blaise loudly declared that it was time for the pair to go head off to class, despite the fact it was a Friday night with no curriculum happening in the foreseeable future.
Nott throws a large tome at them that he had been reading but Harry easily dismisses it with a wave of a single hand, his other hand busy holding Blaise's as they saunter out of the busy Great Hall with twin smirks on their faces.
The moment they step out of the hall, walking away from prying eyes and into an empty corridor on the dungeon floors, Blaise ducks down to capture Harry's lips with his own in a kiss far less chaste than before. "Merlin, you're so perfect." Blaise moans.
Harry laughs breathlessly, breaking the kiss in favor of rumbling the front of the Slytherin's shirt with his wandering fingers, "I know." He replies smugly.
"So modest too." Blaise murmurs as he mirrors Harry's movements, soaking in the warmth through the fabric.
The Boy Who Lived hisses loudly as Blaise found his way to his nipples, rubbing teasingly at them before pinching and twisting them gently between his forefinger and thumb. "It, ah, uhn, comes with, oh y-yess, perfection mmn.."
Blaise hummed and began to unbutton Harry's shirt, eyes eagerly drinking each bit of skin revealing itself to him. Harry shivered as the cold air of the dungeon directly hits his chest before realization of where exactly they are also hits him.
"W-wai-ah-t, wait." Harry moans, gently but insistently hitting the back of his boyfriend's shoulder while said boyfriend latched his warm lips around his nipple. "Fuck Blaise, we'll, uhn, get cau-oh- caught!"
"But you like that don't you?" Blaise says throatily as he licks and plays with Harry's sensitive, exposed chest. Harry keens, as Blaise continues, "You're getting off a little at the idea of me stripping you in a place where anyone could walk in, could see you getting thoroughly toyed with and enjoying it like the pretty little slut you are."
Dear god.
The words smash into his libido like an extremely sexy pile of bricks and Harry moans, inadvertently thrusting his hips upward against his boyfriend's own at the images it conjures up. It's cold in the dungeons but right now it feels like Harry wouldn't be able to tell if he was in bloody Egypt he felt so heated. Encouraged by the reaction, Blaise begins palming the bulge between Harry's legs and playing with the hem of the wizard savior's pants, teasing him with the possibility of wearing nothing but his shoes and socks in the middle of an empty school hallway.
"Would you like that Potter?" Blaise drawled but there's a waver of uncertainty in his voice and hesitance in his eyes, not that Harry could fault the young wizard. They've done things. From kissing to blowjobs to some mild bondage, and yeah, they've seen each other completely naked but that's all behind locked doors and underneath sound muffling blankets. Exhibitionism was new, and admittedly a little scary with its consequences if they actually get caught pants down. Literally in Harry's case.
Harry bites his lip, he's so fucking aroused already, but he knows both of them shouldn't do it despite how much he wants. "Maybe..." he tentatively begins, "There's a room in the dungeons, Argus told me it's spelled to always be slightly open for Mrs Norris to come and go in there as she pleases. She likes going there to nap and watch the fish through the window."
"I cannot believe I'm feeling this grateful for Mrs Norris and Filch right now." Blaise groans like he's being personally offended that he is now forced to feel positive emotions for the grumpy caretaker of Hogwarts and his even grumpier cat.
Harry grinned at the obvious note of dismay in his boyfriend's voice, "Well, I guess we don't have to use it if you don't want us to continue..."
Blaise groaned defeatedly.
"Darling, McGonagall could pass by in that swimsuit attire we saw in Defense class and wish me luck right now and I'd still want to continue."
Harry gave him a vaguely disturbed look, "You would be continuing alone if that really happened Blaise, because ugh."
"Oh, I believe I can convince you to get back into the mood." The Slytherin purred, sticking out his leg between Harry's in a manner that could hardly be interpreted as anything but sexual, "I am very persuasive."
"Well then," Harry says, his voice gone a little higher and breathy as his simmering arousal reignites once more, "Let me lead the way than."
SMUT HAPPENS
So Blaise and Harry do things in a classroom. Professor Snape catches the tail end of things because of course. They get into trouble. Harry gets three weeks detention and is essentially grounded once afternoon classes end and Blaise gets five week detention. Harry and Snape go back to Snape's quarters where Snape kisses him and some less smutty things happen. It's pretty weird. I totally didn't plan for that bit. Whatever. It's not like you guys are reading it.
SMUT STOPS HAPPENING
"Don't assume," Severus begins, voice like the darkest velvet, "even for a moment, that this doesn't mean I'm not absolutely furious at you." He licks his lips again and Harry can't help but follow the motion with glazed eyes, "Luckily for you, I just lost my high horse to ride on with this... indulgence, so I shall let this go for now. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded his head rather dumbly. He could hardly trust his voice to do more than make that wishful whining noise again.
"Good." The Head of Slytherin raised his hand above Harry's head, a familiar action shared between them- then visibly hesitating. It's almost funny, how easily Severus succumbed to his desire to press his thumb into Harry's mouth but suddenly he was too shy to ruffle Harry's hair in a gesture of sweet affection. It was just another line of similarity that connected them, their insecurity in the realms of romance.
He leaves without petting his head and Harry feels oddly bereft without it.
So after what shall be called 'The Most Horribly Embarrassing And Yet Rather Hot Thing to Ever Happen To Harry Potter's Life So Far,' things surprisingly, did not change that much. Seriously. Harry didn't expect it either.
Severus, after the initial few days of going between complete frigid silence and snide, snippy commentary, had gone back to his (relatively) normal self. Which still involves complete frigid silence and snide, snippy commentary but… to a lesser degree anyway, whatever. The point is, Harry desperately needs everyone involved to forget and move on from 'The Most Horribly Embarrassing And Yet Rather Hot Thing to Ever Happen To Harry Potter's Life So Far.'
Blaise agrees. Agrees vehemently. Apparently Blaise wasn't feeling too chuffed about the memory either. And Severus was hardly as kind to Blaise as he was to Harry.
"It could've been worse." Blaise shrugs the first time the Slytherin had detention without Harry having one as well, "A boring waste of time but could've been worse. I mean, it could've been worse, I'm pretty sure if I was a Gryffindor Professor Snape would have poisoned me in my sleep or something."
"You've said 'it could've been worse' three times Blaise." Harry pointed out with narrowed eyes. "Blaise, if Se- Profes-"
Blaise sighs and rather tenderly brushes back Harry's consistently ruffled hair, his eyes exasperated but fond, "Hey, look, it's only for two more weeks and I still get to go to Hogsmeade so-"
Harry rolls his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, could've been worse."
"Could've been worse." Blaise agrees easily.
"Mate seriously? Your boyfriend still gets to go to Hogsmeade?" Ron asks with a mouth filled with pork and potato. "That is so unfair, if a Gryffindor did naked stuff with you in a classroom after curfew while Snape watched- so gross by the way, just, ugh, thank you for not going into specifics when I asked you for the third time by the way- that Gryffindor would have been straight up Avada Kedead. And all he got was five weeks of detention?"
"Harry only got three weeks." Hermione piped up unhelpfully as she flipped a page of her textbook while carefully trying to drink soup at the same time. Ballsy choice of food really, considering Harry was pretty sure that was a library textbook. Ms Pince is pretty batshit with those books, Harry once saw her scream at a first year for dog-earing a page of what looked like an incredibly trashy cheap magazine.
"Yeah but now I'm pretty sure Snape has a weird Harry thing." Ron points out with a chicken wing. "I mean, think bout it, I bet the only reason Snape didn't ban Zabini's Hogsmeade privileges was because Harry doesn't have them."
Hermione gasped in understanding, "Are you saying," She begins, voice all hush hush, clearly enjoying being part of the gossip, another sad reminder how little interaction with girls she has experienced- the Ravenclaw girls are miffed she tries to answer all the questions and the Gryffindor girls just don't connect to her in a way she probably could've have found in a Ravenclaw, not to mention her only really close friend Ron is probably the straightest bloke's bloke in the whole year. Not that it's much of a competition to be perfectly candid. Jesus, Harry may be the closest thing she has to a female friend thinking about it, and isn't that just sad?, "The Professor didn't revoke Hogsmeade to avoid letting Zabini spend more time with Harry?"
Harry scoffed, "Please, Professor Snape isn't.. um… well…" No, wait, actually Severus kind of, totally was petty enough to do that. It was kind of attractive. There was something fundamentally wrong with him. Then again, that's not news. "Go on?"
"Wait, doesn't that mean that no one's really sure when they're going to catch Black?" Hermione asked curious and worried, "What are the aurors even doing?"
"You mean apart from flirting with Harry?" Ron says with a smirk. "Generally flirting with each other."
"Oh dear god I'm never going to get out of this castle am I?" Harry groaned as he looked sadly at his egg sandwich. Damn himself for being so beautiful. Damn it to hell.
Hermione opened her mouth to say something sympathetic but then Crookshanks lept onto her lap, a large spider hanging from his jaws causing Ron to jerk away like he was being shocked with lightening. "Aw, look how clever Crookshanks is," she immediately croons, "did you catch that all by yourself?"
"It's certainly a very… big spider." Harry awkwardly compliments, causing the cat to puff out with pride. Crookshanks then began chewing up the spider smugly. Ron made a disgusted noise.
"Does he have to eat… that in front of us?"
Hermione sniffed, "I don't know Ron, it can't be as bad as watching you eat."
"Oh shit, burn." Harry whispered while his two closest Gryffindor friends began glaring daggers at each other. Crookshanks just kept eating in the background, and occasionally meow-ing.
"Just keep him over there, that's all," Ron finally says irritably, "I've got Scabbers asleep in my bag."
Which is of course the moment when Crookshanks attacked his bag.
"MERLIN'S FLABBY B- GET OFF, OFF YOU STUPID BEAST!" Ron roared, leaping into action and tried to pull the hissing, slashing feline off his bag.
"RON NO, DON'T HURT HIM!" Hermione screeched, and yeah, obviously the whole dining hall was watching now. Harry couldn't blame them. Crookshanks had some serious determination there, claws still imbedded on the Weasley's worn satchel even as Ron began whirling it around like some third rate carnival ride. Like, there's some serious inner core strength or something there. Good on him. "RON!"
Scabbers apparently had no such core strength and flew out of the bag like, well, something that flies out of bags. Anyway, Crookshanks began untangling his claws from the fabric before chasing a, justifiably, terrified Scabbers who had caught onto the situation quick. "CATCH THAT CAT!" Ron yelled.
George Weasley made a lunge for it just as Harry tried to reach out to coax Crookshanks into his arms resulting in them both falling onto each other in a messy heap. "So," George asks once the surprise of the fall wore off, looking up a little dazedly at Harry who lay tangled on top of him, "Did you just fall from heaven? Because you look like an ange-"
"FOR FUCK'S SAKES GEORGE!" Ron snarled, "NOW IS NOT THE TIME, SCABBERS IS IN DANGER!"
Scabbers was also running underneath the tables, skirting beneath startled legs and ducking underneath lifted feet. Finally, someone in this school under the name of Cedric Diggory realized they were all wizards and accio-ed Scabbers into his grip. "I've got him!" He shouts before promptly screaming as Crookshanks practically spins around to his direction and dashing full pelt at the Hufflepuff like a small, furry missile.
"Blaise!" Harry shouts. From across the room the tanned Slytherin sighs as he draws out his wand.
"The things I do for love- ACCIO, uh, SCABBERS THE RAT!" A terrified looking Scabbers shot out of Cedric's grasp and into Blaise's, once again attracting the rather vicious attention of Crookshanks who had begun hissing much like a very aggravated snake. But with way more fangs and claws. "Um. Harry? Darling!?" He asks a little frantically.
"Accio Scabbers!" Harry calls out, summoning Scabbers for a third time, this time from across the Great Hall, the poor fat thing was shaking from all the manhandling he had gone through. "Here Ron, I bought you some time, suggest you take that time and run."
"Thanks Harry, I swear that cat is fucking bonkers." Ron says, the last bit shot pointedly at Hermione. "It's got it in for Scabbers, I can tell."
"That's not true!" Hermione burst out shakily, "All cats chase rats!"
"And yet I hear Parvati's rat is still fine and not-attacked." Ron replied snidely, in the distance a student yelped fearfully, clearly Crookshanks was advancing closer, "I should go, you know, before that mangy thing tries to scratch my eyes out or eat me and Scabs in our sleep something."
Harry sighs because children were ridiculous sometimes. "Look Ron, let me ask Sev- Snape if I can go to your dorm for a bit and I'll cast some protections on your bed to ward off anyone from... eating your face or whatever. Your friend should be safe provided he stays in that room- I'm not equipped to put any advanced spells onto Scabbers himself after all." He's healthier now sure, but not healthy enough to be sure his innate powers won't leak into his magic.
"Cheers mate." Ron thanked gratefully. He shot one last glare at Hermione before stomping off out of the Great Hall.
The moment the large doors slammed shut, Crookshanks came bolting out from under the tables in front of Harry and Hermione snarling and spitting. Hermione just picked the ugly feline up and made little shushing noises.
"Oh Crookshanks, why?" She asks softly.
"Ron's not wrong Hermione." Harry shrugged as he tentatively patted the now calmed cat while the rest of the student body resumed their activities, "Crookshanks genuinely doesn't like Scabbers from what I gather. I mean, I'm not huge on Scabbers either but I like Ron enough not to... eradicate the vermin."
Hermione stared at him. "You're... you do know that occasionally you sound like a super villain right Harry?" She frowns slightly, "Also, wait, I care about Ron too!"
Harry shrugged again, completely ignoring the super villain comment. It's not like she was wrong. And who hasn't had a super villain phase in their lives? Please. "Yeah but Crookshanks clearly doesn't."
The bushy haired Gryffindor slumped over at that, stroking said cat in an attempt to calm herself, "That's true." She muttered dejectedly.
Harry sighed again. Blaise may keep him young with his very mature outlook on life but the Gryffindors with their childish behavior, befitting their age to be fair, remind him how very, very old he was. "Hey, I think what's really bugging Ron isn't that Crookshanks is attacking his rat- well, it's definitely something- but also, it's the fact you're not taking his side or even acknowledging his arguments."
"W-what do you mean?" She asks, her need to patch her friendship with Ron overtaking her usual unwillingness to take Harry's help in something. Then again, usually Harry's advice only extends academically, it's rare that Harry is given the chance or the ability to give an social advice.
"Well, clearly Crookshanks is a very clever magic cat yeah?"
"Yes?" Hermione replies, unsure where this is going.
"And he obviously can see attacking rats and such sets a bad example, or at least understands it to a point he doesn't attack any rats owned by other witches and wizards save for Ron's apparently." Harry pointed out, "So, wouldn't it be fair for Ron to assume your cat is going out of his way to torment his rat?"
"That's- I-" She shut her mouth and grudgingly nodded, looking appropriately shamed, "You're right, I guess Crookshanks really doesn't like Scabbers, though I have no idea why."
The savior of the wizarding world shrugged once again and snatched up a bunch of cookies that have replaced the lunch on the table. "The why of it hardly matters." He tells her, "What does matter is that you tell Ron you're sorry, that you acknowledge Crookshanks does seem to be particularly aggressive at Scabbers and that you will try to make sure the two will not meet. Maybe tell him beforehand when you bring out Crookshanks, make him feel as safe as he can given the situation, not dismiss his fears."
Hermione listener intently and nodded, clearly taking the advice to heart. "That makes sense," she says before brightening, her eyes glinting in determination, "you're right Harry, I'm going to do that right now!"
Harry coughed and looked pointedly at the large furry feline grumbling in her arms.
"... And when I meant 'right now' I totally meant 'right after I put Crookshanks in my room'."
"Nice save Hermione."
The next day, Hermione and Ron were rather amicable during breakfast time from what Harry could see. Herbology they even partnered together and seemed to be chatting together nicely, if a little more restrained than usual. Still, it seemed like progress. Until Transfiguration time.
Apparently Lavender Brown's rabbit died or something which fit somehow with some prophecy Professor Trewalny said in the first lesson that for the life of Harry could not recall. Either way, Hermione's very vocal doubt on the subject caused the Gryffindor girls to dislike her even more and caused a larger rift with her friendship with Ron since she demonstrated a pretty dismissive attitude about the death of Brown's pet. That trip to Hogsmeade is probably not going to as fun as she had previously anticipated now.
He felt for her, honestly he did. They both share a social awkwardness that results in a lot of really bad decisions though Harry's usually end up more sexual in nature at the very least. Or actual murder. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.
Speaking of bad decisions that either end up with sex or murder, Harry ended up bumping into the new defense professor once he had bid his friends goodbye on their trip to the wizarding village that he was banned to enter. Not that he's implying that he was going to murder or have sex with Professor Lupin. Just that it was a strong possibility, what with his record of Defense teachers and the fact that this was one was actually kind of cute. Plus, despite his dislike of Lupin for various reasons, hate sex is always a thrill and Death's always had a bit of a weakness for the demi-humans, especially the werewolves.
"Harry? What are you doing here alone?" Said werewolf questioned curiously, his head popping out of his office door where Harry must've passed whilst walking aimlessly around the castle. Even Severus wasn't angry enough to constrain him to his room for the whole weekend after all. The potions master had even promised to let Harry sleep in his bed with him once again, a promise which has recently been given more and more and Harry loves it. The warmth, the comfort, the proximity, he's never slept with another for the sake of sleeping before, not truly, and now he can't imagine how he could exist so long without it.
Harry shrugged lazily, "Everyone's off to Hogsmeade, Professor." Then he added with a exaggerated pout, "And Colin Creevely apparently is too behind on his essays to play with me."
Poor Colin. The poor child looked positively distraught turning down Harry's casual invitation to hang out. Then again, Harry's also sure the reason why the second year was behind on his essay work was because he was leading an underground ring spreading and selling voyeuristic photographs of Harry, so, fuck Colin. Not that Harry's that offended but still. Fuck Colin. And Blaise too because he's fairly sure his boyfriend's in on it as well.
At least Blaise is probably using the money he earned from it to buy Harry gifts. He better fucking be anyway.
"Ah." Professor Lupin says, looking like he's considering something before asking, a touch too eagerly, "Why don't you come in? I... I've just taken delivery of a Grindylow for our next lesson."
Harry raised an eyebrow, interested despite himself, "Water demon huh?" Then another thought occurred to him, "Wait. Delivered? How does that work?" He asks curiously, "Like, is there a magical delivery service that works independently from the whole owl thing? And how expensive would it be to transport magical creatures? Actually, where do they even get those creatures? Is there like a sanctuary-farm thing for grindylows or do whatever service you use have to hunt for them? And w-"
"Maybe you should come take a seat first before you go through that list of questions." Lupin interrupts, looking amused and terribly fond. It wasn't like the usual gasping, rapturous feared awe he was used to from most werewolves but Harry decided that the time for such expectations of Lupin have been and gone. Sure the man has exhibited some possible signs that on some level he recognises Harry as who he truly is, then again, it could also just as well be that Lupin just recognising Harry is his old, dead friend's son and Lupin is just nostalgic- and the worst werewolf ever.
Whatever. The point was, he was over the whole hating Lupin for not believing in his inner wolf, he wasn't over hating Lupin for being one of Severus' childhood bullies, but he was over the werewolf thing. Sort of.
Harry smiled as he nodded and walked toward the professor. "Of course sir," He says serenely, swanning into the office like he owned it, "and can my first question be- why is your boggart a moon?" Harry steps into the office, eyes glowing inhumanely bright as he stares at the wolfman, "Pretty odd thing to fear, especially for a werewolf like yourself professor."
He shut the door.