Necessary Digress:
Wow, it's been a while since I wrote a fanfic. That's what learning about alkanes and binary searches and momenta does to you.
Ah, I think I've officially lost my mind. A Snape/Harry fic? Yes. I've gone over to the dark side.
This fanfiction piece is dedicated to all the readers. And all the authors on Walking the Plank, because they are the ones who addicted me to HP/SS in the first place (particularly Telanu).
Preamble:
Harry in New York . . . great idea, right? Harry with Snape . . . recipe for disaster.
Note:
Sort of like a songfic, but not really. The italicized lyrics are courtesy of Frank Sinatra, in case anyone's been living under a rock.
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New York, New York
by Galae
It wasn't very often that Dumbledore called everyone together in the middle of the day. But that day he did.
He looked very amused. Harry had long decided that that was Dumbledore's expression when he was excited. The headmaster was far too astute to look thrilled. That was an expression reserved for the lesser learned.
Even all the teachers were talking animatedly amongst themselves. Well, not all the teachers. Snape was still staring straight ahead of him, face as stony and impassive as could possibly be. But then and again, Harry reflected, the difference between a (nearly extinct) smile and a (common) frown on Snape's face must be a hair-thin line.
"I can be sure that all of you are wondering why I have called for such an assembly," Dumbledore said. "The truth is that I have very exciting news for you. I have just received the news that several of our students have been chosen for the Atlantic Exchange."
The majority of the students began talking enthusiastically, but those who grew up with Muggles, like Harry, were befuddled as to what the interest is about.
"The Atlantic Exchange!" Ron said, grinning from ear to ear. "I've been waiting for it ever since Bill went in his fifth year . . . Oh, Harry, you don't know what it is, do you? Well, basically it's a program in which kids from Hogwarts and the other wizarding schools in Europe get to go to North America, and those kids get to come here. But only for two weeks, of course."
Just as Harry was about to reply, Dumbledore tapped for silence.
"As you know, the Atlantic Exchange is a very prestigious program. Only thirty students from all Europe are selected to participate. This year, we are privileged to have twelve students chosen to go. These twelve students have been picked based on their academics, accomplishments, character, leadership and integrity in the face of difficulty. Each of the following twelve will be accompanied by a teacher as they go to their designated city. While the twelve are touring North America, Hogwarts would host twelve students and their teachers."
The Great Hall hummed with anticipation.
"Now, I will not delay the announcements any further. Here are the twenty-four students and teachers selected to go to North America . . ." Dumbledore carefully pushed up his half-moon spectacles as he began to read.
"Marty Ammiller and Professor Flitwick. Boston, Massachusetts, USA."
There was loud applause for Marty, a fourth-year who was said to have extraordinary talent in Charms.
"Justin Finch-Fletchley and Professor Lupin. Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada."
Harry applauded. He looked at Justin and for a moment they locked eyes. Justin smirked a little and mouthed, "You're next!" Harry laughed and shook his head. "Git," he mouthed back. Justin was looking wonderfully good, as usual, and Harry was surprised that his heart still gave a little thump, even after all this time. As much as Harry wanted to go, he knew that he didn't have much of a chance. For one, the students were judged on their academics. Because of an injury courtesy of Lord Voldemort, Harry had spent seven months of his sixth year in the infirmary and thus nearly failed all of his exams.
"Hermione Granger and Professor McGonagall. Montréal, Québec, Canada."
"Oh, lucky, lucky," Ron said enviously.
"Ronald Weasley and Professor Hackley. Ah . . . um . . . Low's—Low's Angels, California . . . oh, dear. Professor McGonagall had just kindly informed me of the right pronunciation of the city. Los Angeles, California, USA."
"Oh my God," Ron whispered. "Oh my God. I'm going. I'm going!"
"Good job!" Harry said as they exchanged high-fives. He could swear that Ron have never looked so happy.
The names dragged on. As glad as Harry was for Ron, he couldn't help feeling a little envious of him and Hermione. North America! Two weeks! What fun that must be! In another wizarding school, surrounded by new people . . . oh, how Harry wished that he could go.
Ninth. Tenth. Eleventh. With each name Harry's spirits sank. It was only when Matilda Armstrong's name was called that Harry realized he had been carrying a little hope that he would be chosen too. But no. He would be staying here, in Hogwarts. The Exchange was for people like Hermione and Justin.
"And I'm proud to announce our last pair . . . Harry James Potter and Professor Snape. New York City, New York, USA."
Harry was speechless. He felt like he could float up to heaven at that exact moment. He was chosen. For the Atlantic Exchange. He had been chosen.
Then a frosty voice broke into his reverie. "Excuse me, sir . . . but I cannot go on such a trip with him."
Harry stared at Snape, whose glare almost turned him into ice.
Indeed, he was not the only one to be surprised. A hush fell over the congratulatory student body. Yes, they knew that Snape disliked the Gryffindors. Yes, they knew he hated Harry. But never, never, could a teacher declare that hate so blatantly in front of Dumbledore.
They all waited to see what Dumbledore would do.
Dumbledore smiled and set down the letter in front of him. "Professor Snape, being chosen for the Atlantic Exchange is a highly impressive honor. I trust that you understand that?"
For a minute Snape's mask fell. But immediately it was snatched up again. "Fine, then." He said, lips pursed into a thin line. "I will accompany Potter on the trip."
"Thank you, Severus. Your cooperation is much appreciated. Now . . . let's feast!"
~ *~*~* ~
"Honestly, I don't know what that man's problem is," Ron said as he plopped onto his bed. "I guess there's thorns on every rosebush."
"Out of all the teachers, why am I stuck with the one that hates me like crazy?" Harry groaned. "Why can I have Professor Sprout or McGonagall or someone like that? He's going to make my whole trip miserable, I could just tell."
"Well, Harry, in case you haven't noticed, all the girls are paired with women teachers, and the boys with the men," Ron pointed out.
"Why do they do that?"
"Uh . . . they kind of have this weird notion that with a teacher and a student of the same sex nothing—er—inappropriate will happen," Ron snickered. He looked at Harry and they both burst into laughter.
It had taken a few years for Harry to discover his sexuality. Ron had been the first one he told, and everything else just fell into place after that. Thanks to being in a few compromising situations, Harry's preference for boys was—and still is—well-known to the entire school. But one thing was sure good about fighting Voldemort all these years—nobody had dared to make a second remark about it, not even Malfoy.
"Oh, so that's it," Harry said aloud. "That's why they paired me with Snape. Because nothing 'inappropriate' could possibly happen between us. Now aren't I the slut. What does Dumbledore think I'd do, put a Seduction Charm on Flitwick? Just because I'm gay doesn't mean that I'm screwing everybody I can. God. An now I'm stuck with Snape for two weeks."
"Relax," said Ron. "I heard that New York has a lot of people. Maybe you could do us all a favor and lose him in there."
~ *~*~* ~
"Start spreadin' the news
I'm leaving today . . ."
"It looks like a very ugly bird," Snape commented. "Are you it won't fall out of the sky and kill us all?"
"Relax, Severus, it is perfectly safe. Why, Muggles ride on them all the time," Dumbledore said, conciliatory.
"Well, that's not saying much. Look at the way they dress," Snape replied snidely. "Now, don't you roll your eyes at me, Potter. You're none too fond of these shoes yourself."
"True," Harry admitted valiantly.
"Dumbledore, are you sure we can't Apparate?" Snape asked.
"Positive," Dumbledore said. "We don't know much about this city, remember. It's too much of a risk. Could you imagine the bedlam you'd cause if you suddenly appear out of nowhere?"
"They'd be too busy tripping over one another to notice," Snape grumbled. "Look at them! You'd think that it would be the end of the world if they don't make that prane on time."
"Plane," Harry corrected without thinking.
"Thank you, Mr. Potter, but I believe I'm the teacher here."
Harry sighed.
Damn it, thought Snape. Out of all the students he could have been stuck with, they choose Potter for him. He glowered at the boy, perfectly calm in the midst of such mayhem. Damn him to hell.
"British Airways Flight 473, from London to New York City will be taking off in thirty minutes. Will all passengers please start boarding at this time. Thank you."
"That's us!" Harry said, looking as happy as a drunk in a bar.
"Good luck, and as the Muggles say, bon voyage," said Dumbledore.
"Dumbledore . . ." Snape began.
"Severus, you will have a fine time in New York," Dumbledore said for the umpteenth time. He held out a package. "Lemon drops?"
~ *~*~* ~
"I want to be part of it
New York, New York . . ."
It was certainly a strange trip. For one thing, Harry had never been on an airplane before. For another, he's never sat for seven hours with Snape on one side.
But even Snape seemed relatively subdued on a plane. At take-off he had been gripping the arms of his chair and paying extraordinary attention to the flight attendants' safety procedures. But by the third hour he had become fairly relaxed—well, as close to relaxed as Snape could possibly get.
"Funny how they manage without brooms," he muttered. "Of course, this isn't quite as convenient . . . but all right for them."
"Oh, Professor Snape, is that a kind word I hear?" Harry said, smiling.
"Kindly shut your mouth, Potter. I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you what I expect from you on this trip. First of all, there will be no foolishness whatsoever. No running around, no tricks, no trying to get me lost. Remember, I am doing you a large favor by accompanying you. I am fully authorized to bring you back to Hogwarts should anything happen. Do you hear?"
"Yes," Harry mumbled, going through all the things that fit into Snape's very broad definition of "foolishness." Well, I guess that means no shagging for another two weeks.
"What would you like, sir? We have Coca-Cola, Sprite, Orangina, Perrier . . ." The flight attendant gestured towards the tray of drinks.
Snape squinted. "What is that vile solution over there?"
Harry choked back a laugh as the poor flight attendant faltered. "There, sir? Oh, that is root beer."
Snape shuddered. "I'll just have water, thank you."
"And you?" she said, looking at Harry.
"Oh, I'll have a Coke."
Accepting his drink, Harry leaned over and said through his teeth, "Professor Snape, you must start acting halfway civilized."
"You are hardly the one to talk, Potter," Snape sneered.
"Well, we wouldn't want to attract attention to ourselves now, would we?" Harry said sweetly.
Snape harrumphed. "How could we not attract attention in these filthy clothes we're wearing? I can't even wear a decent robe."
"Well, actually, in case you haven't noticed, wearing a robe would probably get you arrested," Harry hissed. "We're going into a Muggle world, Professor, and I seriously think that you should at least try not to complain so much."
"I'm not complaining. I'm expressing my clothing preferences."
"You don't look half bad in them, so be quiet, won't you?" Harry said.
That statement was so surprising that it made the both of them shut up for an hour.
~ *~*~* ~
"Please pack up my shoes
I'm longing to stray"
Harry admitted to himself that he wished Snape had been allowed to wear the robes. Out of robes and in Muggle clothes, he looked almost . . . real. That thought scared him.
After the flight they've managed to find their way out of the airport with their carry-ons. They were definitely traveling light. People struggling with carts looked at them enviously as they grabbed their insubstantial canvas bags. The Weightless Charm had its uses.
They breezed through the customs, which Harry had been worried about. He had his documents, but he didn't know about Snape. For one thing, Snape was wizard-born—Harry didn't even think that he had passport. But he took it out smoothly and handed it to the customs official.
"Severus Snape . . . whew, that's quite a name, mister! And is this your son?"
"No, this . . . boy has no relationship to me whatsoever and I am duly proud of it," Snape snapped. "He is my student."
The official raised his eyebrows and took Harry's passport.
"Hmm. And what are you planning to do in the United States?"
"We're on an exchange program," Harry spoke, not trusting Snape. "We'll be staying for about two weeks."
"Bringin' anything in?"
"Just our bags."
The official nodded. "Put them through on there, please."
"And what is that detestable-looking machine?"
"To see the contents of your bags with, naturally."
"Why?" Snape demanded. "Isn't there an act you Mu—Americans have about privacy?"
"Sir, we have to check for foods, firearms, and other things," the official explained, a bit exasperated. "It's the law. We don't want the mad-cow disease over here."
"Well," Snape said huffily, "I suppose so then."
Admittedly, it had all gone very smoothly. The bags passed through remarkably without fuss, although Harry did hear the official say something about titanium. Until . . .
"Sir, may I ask what is in here?" the customs official asked. "It is black and large, and circular in shape."
"Oh," Snape said, lip curling. "That would be my cauldron."
"A cauldron, sir?"
Snape sneered. "A most delightful historic artifact, of course, from the Middle Ages. You see, sir, your country's stupid paranoia allows you to see everything as extraordinary. It is a gift, of course. For the school we would be visiting."
"Well, then, that explains it!" said the official, unfazed and grinning. "You're free to go. Bye, and have a nice stay in the US of A!"
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Is Snape going to fall off the Empire State Building? Is Harry going to survive the two weeks? Come back next week to find out!
No, seriously, I'm going to finish this story.
I've actually done it already. I just need to carve it up and then put it into chapters.
Please REVIEW. I've spent a lot of time writing this, and I love it.