Title: Dratted, Cursed Potter! (tentative)
Rating: PG/PG13
Pairing: Harry/Snape. Possible sub-pairings: Draco/Blaise, Draco/Hermione, Pansy/Ron
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. As much as I'd like to -goes off in corner and sulks-
Warnings: None, except that this fic'll probably get really long. Fluff see.
Author's Notes: Have decided to post short chapters instead. This way I can update more often. I hope. Up to Chapter 4 now will try and update every 5-6 days. For now. Really sorry for the delay in updating was having a problem with one of the paragraphs and it gave me awful writer's block. Hope to update more regularly from now on.
To clarify what happened at the end of the previous chapter, Harry grabbed his book from Snape but Snape refused to let go and pulled, causing Harry to fall towards him. Snape then put out his hands to steady Harry but Harry fell harmlessly in between his outstretched hands onto Snape. Got it? Yay.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Please continue reviewing it keeps me motivated to write more. Special thanks to my dear beta ranathalion though I'm nearly tempted to forget the whole beta thing and skive off re-editing. It takes –nearly- as much time as writing the chapter itself. I cry. Thanks lots anyway :D Whatever leftover mistakes are probably mine after re-editing.
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Chapter 2
"Harry!" Hermione's voice sounded through the usual noise of the Great Hall at breakfast. Harry jumped, knocking over his cereal bowl in the process. "You've been jittery since yesterday!" she finished exasperatedly, sliding into the seat next to him.
"Sorry," he mumbled, righting his bowl and attempting to clean up the mess. It wasn't as if he had any appetite anyway, especially not after lying in bed the entire night thinking about what had gone on in Snape's dungeon. Which, technically, had been nothing, boiling down to him tripping and Snape steadying him. If anything, he ought to be surprised that Snape hadn't stepped aside and let him fall to the ground on his face. It was just the feel of Snape's arms around him that made him feel all... tingly. Hermione gave him an appraising look and started putting bacon onto her own plate.
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Dratted cursed Potter, Severus thought, unable to tear his eyes off of the boy as he absentmindedly spread his toast. As if it were not enough that he plagues me in class, now he has to plague my thoughts as well! Get out, get out!
"Why Severus," Albus Dumbledore said from his seat on the Potions Master's right. "It appears you've changed your tastes." Panicking, Severus glared at Dumbledore, who merely smiled back with that knowing smile of his. He glared a bit more before the Headmaster, eyes twinkling, nodded at the toast that Severus had been spreading. He then realized that he'd spread marmalade on nearly as thick as the toast itself. Which wouldn't have been that bad a thing actually except for the tiny fact that he mortally hated marmalade- and Dumbledore knew it. Scowling and deciding it wasn't worth it pondering the double meaning behind the Headmaster's question, Severus muttered that he'd recently developed a sudden fondness for the spread. Having no choice after saying so, he bit into his toast, trying hard not to gag.
A few minutes later found Severus storming out of the Great Hall, coughing violently and turning a strange shade of green. He'd managed an impressive three bites before his taste buds rebelled and he gave up on breakfast. He had never been a morning person; in fact he wouldn't even have been in the Great Hall that morning if not for his traitorous mind's urge to see Potter again. Dratted, cursed Potter! He snarled as he stormed out.
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The week flew by uneventfully, with neither Snape nor Harry bumping into each other along the hallways and neither seeing each other except at meals. Then came the next NEWT level Potions class.
"Potter, you stir a cauldron like this!" Irritated, Snape grasped Harry's stirring hand with both of his own to emphasize his point. "Surely after seven years of Potions you are able to stir a potion without spilling any of it?" He hissed down Harry's neck, causing the hairs on the back of it to prickle. Harry, however, was hardly paying attention to his Professor's words, distracted by Snape's physical closeness and Snape's hands over his. Snape's fingers were long and slender and very, very white. Mmhmm, Harry thought contentedly. Oh bugger- I'm in Potions! Cauldron Harry, stir the cauldron! Snape seemed to realize where Harry's thoughts were heading and abruptly let go, going off to terrorize unsuspecting Ron (whose potion had just turned a disgusting shade of brown).
It really wasn't my fault, Harry thought, getting a rag to clean up the mess he'd made. I was just watching him grade papers when he looked up, and I jumped! Who'd expect him to look up anyway? So he'd jerked a bit and spilt some of his potion. Surely that didn't require Snape treating him like a first year who couldn't stir a cauldron properly. Snape had no business looking up while grading papers, Harry reckoned, wiping up his potion somewhat violently. Ah, said a nasty voice in Harry's head. Then what were you doing watching him? Harry blushed inwardly at this. Snape's calm concentration while grading papers was very much different from the loathing on his face Harry was used to, intriguing him into watching as his professor's precise hand flew over one roll of parchment after the other. That is, until said professor had looked up, leading to him now dropping the sodden rag into a sink. Going back to stirring the cauldron, Harry snuck another glance at Snape, who had returned to grading papers at his desk. Harry's eyes rested a moment too long, causing Snape to look up directly at him. For a brief second their eyes met, but then Snape scowled and fixed Harry with his Death Glare No. 1, TM. If looks could kill, Harry would have dropped dead on the spot. Instead, Harry squeaked and spilt his potion again.
Something in Snape snapped. "Detention, Potter," he said tersely. Harry cringed at each word. "With me," he added, rather enjoying Harry's anguished squawk. "Eight o'clock. My office. Do not be late." The bell chose that moment to ring and mercifully put Harry out of his misery. After hurriedly stoppering a vial of his potion and cleaning up, Harry grabbed his things and practically ran out of the dungeon.
"Don't you think Harry's been acting a bit... weird lately?" Hermione asked Ron, who was preoccupied with scraping a thick crusty layer from the insides of his cauldron and obviously not paying any attention to her. "Oh never mind," she muttered. "Scourgify. Let's go."
Author's Notes: Review please! I'd like to know if the characters, particularly Harry and Snape, are getting a bit too OoC.It makes for interesting comments in the thoughts and all but I don't want to compromise too much on their realness. Tell me what you all think? Thanks :)