The eyes narrowed even more. Harry wouldn't have thought that possible, but then again he wouldn't have thought his own body capable of such excitement without explosion. He made small whimpering sounds in his throat, completely against his will. His eyes couldn't see too well through the fog that seemed to have conquered his glasses.

But he could still hear. Through a similar fog, granted, but still. "What did you say?" The voice of the Potions master was bound to intimidate. Terrorize. Induce heart failure. Well, it didn't. Not anymore. Not with Harry. He was so dead. In a completely different way. The nose of Snape, that rather intimidating specimen, was so close he could have counted the pores. They were rather large, it was true after all. Not only oily hair but a skin condition to go with it. Figured. But did this help his state? No way. Harry squirmed and shivered all over. "Please", he pleaded. Please don't make me spell it out. Please don't pretend to not understand me. Please – do me. Harry put an amount of entreaty in his eyes he wouldn't have thought himself capable of. He had looked at persons – well if you could call Him Who Wanted to Brag more Than Kill as a person - and even at Snape with that much feeling, but that had been quite different. Stubbornness wouldn't do it now, Harry was sure of that.

Btu what could he do? How did anyone seduce a person? He didn't even know how Snape had seduced him, made him see him in a completely different way. Well, one moment he was the greasy git, the terror of his school days, the next moment he was a real person with feelings and the minute after the sexiest person alive. Or at least at Hogwarts, Harry knew full well that there might be a place on earth where another being existed that could induce similar feelings in him. But that was only theory. Here he was now with the sexiest person in reach, naked and ready and what did that person do? Nothing than eye him with a suspicion that bordered on paranoia. Well, of course being a spy for multiple sides could have something to do with that. Not to mention that Harry himself would have thought something was up if someone who had outright despised him for ages had suddenly come to him and begged him to – well. Okay. Snape had a point even people less suspicious could see.

But that did not help his case in the least. And it was becoming quite chilly standing here like that. He cast a furtive glance down. Yes, it was cold and that wasn't very becoming. More polite, though. Waving the flag to press your point wasn't perhaps the most refined way to do things. Honest, though. But what could he do? He couldn't kiss someone to make Snape want him. There was no one here. Not that he thought that he could make someone come with just a kiss. But he could at least try. He narrowed his eyes. There must be a way. He would figure it out. The cold was not to good for his brain cells. Snape was right – perhaps he had no brain.

"Changed your mind then?" The voice of Snape dripped with malice. Harry let the sentence roll around in the empty caverns of his head. Yes, he had changed his mind. About Snape. And no, he hadn't changed his mind. About coming here and well – coming. He let his eyes roam speculatively about the teacher. There was a heat coming off of the man that really made him the one place in this lousy dungeon to be inviting, forbidding manner, arms crossed in front of the chest, dark gaze, curled lip and all.

Harry stared. He could do that. And there it was. A flicker in the eye, not really a tic, but just as if Snape would have liked to avert his eyes but wouldn't of course, what with him being the older and stronger and prouder and all that. And why would he want to look away? Because he couldn't stand the stare? That was ridiculous. Snape himself was the master at that. Because he didn't want Harry to see something, anything in his eyes that Snape didn't want to show but was afraid would? Harry felt his mouth curl. Hermione would have been proud of him. He could do logical and psychological after all, and his brain could deduce thing very well, thank you, Professor Snape.

"Out of words, Potter?" The voice didn't betray anything. It was as silky, smooth and dangerous as a very expensive shawl that strangled you. Harry loved it. How he could have thought otherwise at any given time was beyond him. Okay, he had been wrong about Snape multiple times. He hadn't tried to kill him but wanted to save him. He wasn't evil incarnate, even if he wasn't the nicest person on the planet. But he sure was sexiness incarnate. Everything added up to this. Manner, voice, look – not to mention THE KISS. Harry let out a sound that rung ridiculous in his own ears. Really. A cat couldn't make more pathetic sounds.

Snape's dark eyes roamed about him and made him shiver. "This is the epitome of ridiculous, Potter. I trust you don't mind if I interrupt this lousy excuse for a prank and get your head of house to deal with you as she must. This time she'll just have to believe that you're mental. Who could blame you, really, with all you have been through? But you were far better off in St. Mungo's than here at something that at least some people consider an institution to bring knowledge to children, not spoil them rotten with negligence".

Harry stared. Rethink that, something in him screamed. You were wrong. Snape is evil incarnate. Nobody with even half a human feeling left in his body would ridicule a person because of his stay in hospital. He felt hot, hotter than ever before, he felt tears start behind his eyelids, and he felt so angry, as he could and would not remember having felt ever before. "You", he hissed menacingly in something that curiously resembled Parseltongue. Snape held himself even more upright. "Yes Potter? Have something to say, after all? Made up our – mind?"

Harry started to scream, he opened his mouth, but at the last moment he noticed something about Snape that made him stop and shut his mouth rather suddenly. The man looked – relieved. Just for the slightest tiniest moment he looked like he was happy that Harry was about to scream at him, that he had managed to make him that angry. It could have been because he would have even more reason to sack Harry and send him home for good then, but Harry didn't believe that. Not quite.

The black eyes were back on him the next moment. One could have thought it had been an illusion, this short look away. But Harry didn't. And wouldn't wait for Snape to get his bearings together and McGonagall here. No. He simply wouldn't wait. If the mountain didn't come to him, he would come to the mountain. If he had only one chance, here it was. If he didn't do it now, Snape would never let him get that close again without screaming the house down or curse him into oblivion. Well, perhaps Snape would still do that if he acted now. But then Harry would have the satisfaction that he had tried at least. That would make his life at St. Mungo's or as a chair or whatever so much more worthwhile.

"No", cried Harry and lunged himself at the man, mouth and legs first. Snape stumbled a bit under his assault. He was taller than Harry still, but Harry was albeit slim and scrawny, quite stronger than he looked. Quidditch had given him muscles that worked and he used them to his advantage. Snape's hands came up to his shoulders, to push him back, away or so Harry presumed, but he wouldn't let go. His hands tangled in the greasy hair, and if Snape didn't stop struggling, he would really be hurt. Harry's legs were around the waist of the potions master, and his lips pressed onto the thin brutal mouth. Harry hadn't much practice, granted, but he had replayed THE KISS so often in his mind, and adorned it with so many ideas of his own, that he didn't feel completely at a loss with technique. When the lips under his opened a bit, in protest, he didn't doubt, he took his chance and delved into the mouth, his tongue wiggling its way along the one of the teacher. And then he stopped thinking, didn't feel anything besides the overwhelming feeling of sparring with Snape in a way that was far more rewarding than their usual banter at school. After what seemed like a century, he came up for air, and sighed against the hot mouth before him.