DISCLAIMER- the usual stuff applies
Severus Snape was, for a change, slumbering contentedly. That is, he was, until a piercing scream rent the early morning air, causing him to sit up suddenly. Noting that the sound originated from the bed nearest his, he stumbled towards it, muttering the lumos charm as he went. He was nearly at the bed when a Harry, running to check up on its companion, ran straight into him.
'Oooof', Snape spluttered, as the Harry bounced off him and spiralled in the other direction.
'Mr P.... whoever you are, go back to bed immediately. I shall deal with this.' At this icy command the Harry backed off slowly, still horrified at the thought of having actually touched Snape.
Scowling, Snape magically pulled back the curtains of the student's bed and peered cautiously inside. Lying on his back, the Harry had one arm stuck up in the air as if begging for mercy, his face flushed and screwed up with the pain. Peering intently over the boy, wondering at the cause of his agony, Snape grasped the upheld wrist to check for a pulse. The older man gasped as waves of pain flowed out from the Harry, earthing themselves in his own body. Overcome, he blacked out, his last conscious memory that of falling forwards.
The following morning, Snape awoke to feel himself lying on a very unusually shaped bed. Lazily, not bothering to open his eyes, Snape ran his hands over the object beneath him, which appeared to be softer, yet more contoured than his usual bed. Stretching, he moved his pale hands upwards until they were level with his head. On its way upwards, his left hand had met an obstruction. Patting the area sleepily, he felt a hard ridge, followed by a very soft, moist area with a knobbly protrusion above it. Alarm bells began ringing, as part of his brain (the part that always used to shoot his hand into the air whenever a teacher asked a question) identified these things as chin.. mouth.. nose...
Snapping his eyes open, Snape felt a thrill of revulsion run through him as he saw Harry Potter's face two inches from his own. The boy was staring at the ceiling, a nauseous look on his face, wanting with every fibre of his body to run away, but trapped by his professor's long body. Horrified, Snape thought of obliviating the boy's memory. However, all of his plans flew out of the window when he heard a small giggle from his right, which soon turned into a maelstrom of chatter. Turning his head slowly, he saw that he had an audience of Harry's- all with slightly shocked looks on their faces.
'Oh, Merlin, this is bad', he thought, realising that there was no way he could obliviate an entire roomful of students and not be caught. What made his situation even more lamentable was the fact that he had neglected to remove his hand from Harry's face. He did so with the speed of light, however, when someone in the crowd whistled and said;
'Bloody hell, professor, if you really can't keep your hands off him then at least do it in private!'
The fact that he has fallen asleep on St Harry Potter, of all people, combined with being seen like this by a jeering crowd of yet more Potters, and his having been so stupid as to not have just opened the one curtain around the bed last night, made Severus Snape very, very angry. Rising from the bed like an angry bear, he roared
'GET OUT!! ALL OF YOU, NOW!! ANYONE LEFT IN MY SIGHT IN 10 SECONDS WILL. LIVE. TO. REGRET. IT!!' To prove his point, he started blasting at the pillows on the other beds, creating a haze of feathers.
'AND STOP SMIRKING!!!' he added, as the students ran for their lives to the common room.
'Now, as for you....' Snape turned back to the boy on the bed, who was trying to disentangle himself from the covers and make a run for it.
'Not so fast', he smirked evilly, grabbing his wand from where it had fallen and crying 'VINCULA'. At his word, the sheets twisted themselves into ropes and bound the struggling Harry to the bed.
Thinking that he may as well make the most of a bad situation, Snape decided to torment the boy for a while. Standing on the edge of the bed so as to create a more authoritarian impression Snape looked down at the Harry and gave his most evil grin. Savouring the boy's fear and trepidation, he allowed a dramatic pause before he spoke.
Unfortunately, just before he could launch into his tirade, several of the more daring students came back into the dormitory, either to rescue their friend or laugh some more, he couldn't discern which. Upon seeing their greasy professor standing happily over a bound and obviously extremely frightened Harry, there was chaos. Snape was forced to block numerous hexes from some of the students who heroically came to the rescue (and some from those who just couldn't pass up the chance to curse a teacher). While he was defending himself, and stunning a few of them in return (with ill-suppressed glee) one Harry had snuck around the room and was freeing its companion. Not to be cheated of punishing the one responsible for this fiasco, Snape turned towards the liberator, shouting 'LEAVE HIM!'.
The two Harrys paused uncertainly, and would have perhaps capitulated if Snape had not been hit by the tarantallegra spell at that very moment. The pair ran for the safety of the bathroom as Snape's legs cavorted under him, giving the impression that a giant greasy bat was river-dancing on the bed. Fighting his own limbs for control, Snape clumsily hopped towards the bathroom in pursuit, his wand unreachable- having fallen onto the floor. The potions master reached the edge of the bed and made a mad leap for the floor, in his anger realising too late that the last thing his crazed legs could deal with was a 3-foot drop downwards. Arms windmilling during the descent, Snape managed to grab onto a curtain which slowed his fall to the extent that it would normally been painless, if he hadn't suffered what felt like 10 cruciatus curses at once during the night. Body aching, he raised his torso out of the dusty floor (the lower half was still jerking around uselessly) and looked upwards, noticing that the boy's nightstand was in front of him.
Meanwhile, in the bathroom, the real Harry and Hermione were having an anxious discussion.
'Mione, he was touching me! I'll never be able to sleep again!'
'Oh Harry, are you alright? I think Snape's lost it, he's been acting much stranger than usual.'
'He's going to kill me, I know it. You should have seen the look on his face! I'd much rather face Voldemort, at least it'd stop these ruddy dreams I've been having', Harry muttered disconsolately.
'Here, Harry, let me fix your eyesight for the time being, that way Snape won't be able to tell you apart from us. The eyesight charm doesn't work permanently, ever since the trials they did in the 60's showed that...' Hermione continued, her eyes bright.
Harry would have paused to marvel at how strange it was to see himself look so eager about school-related matters if he hadn't woken up to find Snape sprawled on top of him that morning. After that, everything seemed normal.
'So that's how he's been finding me!' he mused.
Shaking her/his head, Hermione performed the charm and the two of them plotted an inconspicuous exit from the bathroom.
On the other side of the door, Snape was grabbing the nightstand and hauling himself up. Having done so, he noticed that a pair of glasses was lying on top.
Overjoyed at at least knowing for certain who the culprit was, Snape felt like dancing, until he realised that -technically- he already was.
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To be continued! As usual, tell me what you think. Sorry its so short, I have a huge amount of work to do at the moment. Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed, particularly Shadowed-Hand (to your last review: yeah, I had the same idea too!) and Grey Grim (thanks for pointing out the grammatical problem, I think it must have just been a typo. P.S. I elected to use 'Harrys' because 'Harries' seemed a bit strange for some reason!). Also, look out for a new snarry fic that i'm going to write very soon, which will be more of a romance story. I wouldn't normally plug my own work or anything, but I've actually planned this one so I'm quite excited!