Okay, this is the answer to a challenge on the yahoo-group "the Dripping Quill" which is one out of the myriad of groups that deal with our beloved Potions master in away not designed by J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers – even if I'm not too sure about the former one, after OotP:-)

The Challenge was to include the sentence: "Professor Snape, you know you just kissed me?" uttered by Harry Potter or someone else while Harry is present. I bet it says great things about my brain, that the first three parts just came flooding out of it:-)

And of course htis is not finished yet. Come on, you know me:-)

SS/HP, slash, PG13-R (hopefully)

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The naked truth of Harry Potter

"Professor Snape, you know you just kissed me?"

Harry's head turned around as if drawn by a string. A very strong string, at that. And fast. He couldn't believe his ears. Seamus couldn't really have said what he thought he had, could he?

His eyes told him. that at least his ears had recognized the voice alright. It was Seamus, standing in front of the teacher's desk, wearing a face Harry could only describe as foolish with glee. Harry looked around to see if others had heard that too. Ron heaved his shoulders and looked a bit desperate. Traitor. He had known and not told him. Harry felt like in second year, when the whole school had thought he was the heir of Slytherin. Well, Ron and Hermione hadn't, but this time Ron was in into a secret and hadn't told him, his presumably best friend. Harry frowned and turned his head to watch the person to whom that ridiculous speech was addressed.

Snape. Severus Snape. Immaculately dressed as always, only the hair, lank and greasy, not adhering to the strict rules of order the man had set upon himself. The mouth a thin line of disgust as he looked Seamus up and down. The eyebrow, well one of the two jet black wings, went up and made one eye considerably larger than the other. The big nose twitched as if it smelled something awful. It probably did. Seamus was not one for too much personal hygiene, and nothing the whole of Gryffindor seventh class – male – had done could convince him otherwise.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. Okay, he was not in on the joke. So what? All the more could he enjoy the results. Snape would tear Seamus apart, if it was the last he could do. And maybe it was. School would end forever next week, the exams taken, the Quidditch cup lost to Slytherin – it was all over.

Harry couldn't help himself but look at the other side of the room, to the Slytherin corner. Draco Malfoy, in all his lordly arrogance, looked on in disgust and contempt matching his head of house in a way that could have been funny. It wasn't. Surely even Malfoy wouldn't think that any one in their right mind, well, not even Seamus, would want to be kissed by the greasy git? Even Draco's adherence to his house couldn't go that far?

Harry turned his head again. Snape hadn't yet reacted. Strange. He would have sworn Seamus would have his tail off in a trice plus a year's worth of detention, classes ended or no. But Snape looked – shaken. Harry looked on in horror. That simply couldn't be. The bastard had – feelings? Surely not. And it was not as if he didn't know that this was a seventh year prank. He simply must. He had been a teacher for ages. He simply couldn't think anybody was taking that accusation seriously?

Harry shuddered. It seemed not only school but his whole life had come to a close. Seeing Snape like that, as a human being, touchable, reachable, with feelings, turned his world upside down. He nearly felt ashamed for seeing the man like that. And for all the pranks he had played upon him, even if he wasn't in on this special idiocy, as he had lost the snitch to Malfoy in the final game and wasn't considered worthy by his class mates.

Seamus surely didn't share his finer feelings. Thoroughly surprised by Snape's reaction, or lack thereof, but nonetheless driven by his urge to make a fool of their most hated teacher, and not a little of himself, as always, he went on: "You know that means we are as good as engaged in finer circles. Do you plan to stand by your commitment?" He cast a quick triumphant glance at his fellow Gryffindors who looked at him in a mixture of awe and apprehension. Harry didn't meet his eye, his were on the potions teacher. Whose lips moved as if Snape was muttering something under his breath. Harry thought he heard something like "very well, then", but that was of course ridiculous. Snape was much too far away and since when could he read Snape's mind? That was too gruesome to even think. Nevertheless he watched on, as the teacher lifted himself up to his whole height again as if a bolt of lightning had gone through him and grabbed Finnigan around the middle, yanked him up and crushed his lips to those of the student.

Harry thought he was about to faint. This simply was not happening, or was it? He looked around again to look for confirmation. Everybody else was looking as dumb-struck as he felt. So it might be true. Harry looked to the spectacle again and felt a strange quiver in the area behind his left breast bone. Seamus had come to life and struggled to get free from Snape. Or did he? Harry knit his brows. Seamus' feet were kicking, but his hands went up around the high-collared neck and they didn't seem to be pushing. Looked more like pulling from where he sat. Another strange feeling went through his chest, a feeling Harry would have called pain, but that was of course too ridiculous to think. He looked on in awe as THE KISS, as it surely would be called for the next centuries, went on and on and on. Nope, Seamus was not struggling to get free. Indeed, it rather looked as if he – oh dear. Harry averted his eyes. Now Snape would have a wet spot on his immaculate robe. He wouldn't be pleased with that.

There was a plop when wet lips left wet lips. There was not another sound in the classroom. Only a small thud when Seamus' feet reached the ground, and a still smaller one when his bottom followed. Snape stood, as high and erect as always, rubbed his hands with a look on the prostrate figure before him, then stapled his fingers and looked at the class. "Very well, Mr. Finnigan. You may now tell your prank-loving classmates how it is, really, to be kissed by the greasy git, the bastard, the monster of Slytherin, who hadn't had it for ages, as you all seem to know. Don't forget to show them exactly what you got from it. I think in this case even Gryffindors tend to show a modicum of studiousness heretofore unknown. Excuse me, I have to do some cleaning up. Class dismissed. Fare the well."

And with a swishing with his a little less than immaculate robe the potions teacher was gone, followed by more eyes than just one pair of green ones, but these followed him long after he could be seen.