Disclaimer: All characters, place names and other things recognisable as being from the Harry Potter-verse are the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and are in no way owned by me. 'Spare Me the Details', 'Splinter' and other references to works of the Offspring are property of The Offspring band members. The lyrics I occasionally quote are the work of Dexter Holland, International Man of Genius. And finally, certain elements of this chapter are attributed and/or quoted from Graham Norton's autobiography, 'So Me'. I couldn't help myself. It seems no one can be a pretentious arrogant teenager quite like Graham!

Summary: In which Harry makes a decision and Severus makes an apology.

Spare Me the Details

Harry was curled up on his sofa, still in his teaching suit, with an open bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale warming in his lap. Although not usually the philosophic type, Harry couldn't help but be in deep meditation over the ragged tatters of his love life, conveniently wrapped up in the letter that lay open and forlorn beside him like a spurned lover. The actuality of it was quite the opposite.

It had arrived in the Great Hall that morning with the normal owl mail. Harry had recognised the handwriting and immediately passed it to Hermione. "Open this and tell me if it's safe, will you?"

She regarded him with a raised eyebrow, but took the letter and scanned it quickly. "Good grief, Harry, how did you put up with such a moron for a whole year?"

"That bad, is it?"

Hermione folded the letter carefully. "Well, credit where credit's due, I'll give him full marks for spelling, not to mention imagination." She handed the missive back to him. "It's probably best left until you're alone with a beer, I think."

Harry nodded, taking back the letter and slipping it into his trouser pocket. He had heeded the advice of his friend and was happy for it when he finally did read words that, although meant to supplicate, could only cause hurt and indignation.

Let me take a moment, my reader, to tell you that I could use my power as narrator to carefully edit or delete entirely the letter from Harry's former lover. It will certainly not show our hero's taste in a favourable light, which may bias you against him at a later stage. I will on this occasion, however, deliver my duty in full and hope you will not shoot the messenger for such conceited words.

"Dearest Harry,

My passionate affairs may have been an avant garde and rash thing to do, considering our humble little relationship, but you must let me explain! … Actually, I can't! Funny that, isn't it? Me! Who always had an explanation for everything!

We must finish it here, of course. If you're going to put an end to something then do it with fireworks, I say! A good ting you're so used to publicity, isn't it, darling? I feel like I should be writing a long, clarifying exposition on my sordid double life like they do in the tabloids. But if you know me as well as you pretend you do, you'll know I couldn't clarify a steamed up window!

I had better end this rambling missive here. It's been a marvellous affair with a cinematic departure – Hurrah for the 'us' that was!

From the boy your are / were / will be fond of,

Owen.

P.S. – If you really do want to know about my sordid double life, ask your charming bushy-haired friend. She always was a nosy cow!"

It was in these quiet moments, beer in hand and mind pondering pretentious words, that Harry reached an epiphany. Without violence or hatred, he screwed up the letter and tossed it into the open fire before him. He watched the fire consume its edges, they curled and blackened into nothing.

"Spare me."

---

"Are you alright?"

Harry sighed. "Ask me that particular question in that particular tone of voice again and I'm telling Remus about that dream you had in the sixth year.""

They shared a rueful smile and got down to the more important matter of breakfast. "Someone's been looking for you."

"Oh?"

Hermione nodded. "Severus asked me where you were. I told him you were usually quite late to breakfast, which got a sneer. Something to do with the duelling?"

Harry shrugged. "Could be, but I doubt it. We sorted most of the details out last night. It will probably be quite similar to the DA meetings, but on a larger scale. I'm actually quite looking forward to it."

Hermione was not easily distracted. "It was for something more personal, then?"

"Maybe. Why all the interest?"

She smiled sweetly and patted his arm. "I'm your friend, Harry. It's my job to take an interest. Snape never asked where you were when you were in a relationship, you know, and it's really pretty rare for him to be interested in anything and, well … He is gay." She paused for a moment. "Isn't he?"

Harry snorted. "Oh yes. Not that it makes the slightest bit of difference to your little world of madness, but he's gay."

"You sound awfully sure for someone who's indulging my 'little world of madness'."

"What can I say? Homosexual sixth sense is a marvellous gift! Not that I think I really want to hear the answer, but why are you making such an inarticulate point about Snape being gay?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "You're not going to like this, but I know from personal experience that the best thing to do when you fall off a broomstick is to climb straight back on again."

"You have actually gone insane, haven't you?" Harry laughed out loud and shook his head. "I told you yesterday, Hermione. I'm going to concentrate on what's important from now on. There will be no climbing, and certainly no riding. Especially not with Snape!"

"Fine," Hermione replied. "But don't come crying to me when you're dying of sexual frustration."

---

Harry sauntered into the staff room flushed with the joy of a morning free period. He pulled the morning's inter-school mail from his pigeonhole and flicked through it: PTA newsletter, dinner invitation from Hagrid - just the usual, really. He paused. A small, folded piece of parchment with 'Professor Potter' addressed in a familiar script. He opened it and mumbled the words to himself.

"Potter,

I meant no real offence in what I said yesterday. I hadn't thought you the type for a relationship with real emotional attachment. Apparently I was wrong. Don't get used to it.

Below is my suggested timetable for the Duelling. If these are acceptable to you, I will see you tomorrow evening.

S. Snape"

Harry raised his eyebrows. Today was apparently a day for correspondance of all kinds that were strange. His mind flashed back to what Hermione had said, but he dismissed her ambitious matchmaking just as quickly. Stranger things had happened than Snape having a momentary personality transplant (Although Harry couldn't himself remember when) and if there was anyone less interested in procuring a partner than himself, it was most definitely Professor Severus Snape.

He took a spare bit of parchment and scribbled a quick affirmative for the Professor, before sitting with his third year term papers and setting to the nice, normal, not-at-all strange task of marking.

---

Harry fingered his wand nervously as the Great Hall began to fill. This was the first attempt at a supervised duelling class since the Lockhart fiasco – which, coincidentally, had also involved Professor Snape. He had taught some jinxes and counter-curses in the DA, but never on this scale or with a demonstration with a rather powerful former Dark Wizard.

Speak of the devil, Harry thought. The Potions Master was making his way hastily through the throng. "Bloody first years should be studying pyrotechnics, not Potions."

Harry was surprised to feel his lips curling into a smile. "The latest Weasley made a Sneakoscope explode today. Believe me, I feel your pain!"

Severus quickly pulled off his teaching robes and overcoat. Harry had had the foresight to change into a T-shirt already – ease of movement in a duel could prove the difference between dodging into safety and growing a second head. "I'll just go and start things off," Harry said, striding towards the front of the room.

They were both carefully skirting around the morning's note, but then Harry had expected no less. He climbed onto a chair and stepped up onto the teacher's table, their makeshift stage. The house tables had all been cleared to the edges of the room. "If everyone would like to come a bit closer, we're ready to begin." Harry paused, waiting for the chatter to abate. "OK. Welcome to your first Duelling class. As many of you will know, You Know Who has been getting closer and more powerful than ever before, and Professor Dumbledore thinks it's important that everyone be as capable of self-defence as possible. I want to stress right now that this class is for defence, not attack. From what I've seen in the corridors you're all perfectly well equipped for that already."

There was a scattered titter, and Harry saw his colleague stepping up onto the other end of the table in his shirtsleeves. "I must very quickly stress that this could become a dangerous situation if you don't all listen and do as you're told. There will be severe point reductions for anyone choosing to be disruptive.

"Professor Snape and I will now demonstrate what we will be working on this lesson. He will throw 'Expalliarmus' at me, a spell I know you're all familiar with, and I will deflect it by pushing the spell away from myself and towards a place that will cause no harm."

Harry walked to the centre of the table, where Severus awaited him. They both bowed and turned to walk ten paces in opposite directions. He had never known why they indulged in such a pointless formality – he'd certainly never had Voldemort bow to him before any torture began, and it seemed vaguely stupid to teach the students to expect such a courtesy.

When they faced each other again, Harry was sorely reminded of the Occlumency lessons he had been made to continue until he finished school. Snape was gazing at him intently, a cobra with his prey in sight. It wasn't too large a stretch of the imagination to think that the man was trying to read his mind. He wondered how that gaze would feel now if filled with the hatred that Snape had felt for him years ago, when Harry rarely met his eyes. He wondered how he would feel if there was something worse than Expelliarmus coming his way.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry saw the shimmer of magic flying towards him before he heard the word, and had already muttered the deflection out of pure reflex. The spell was flicked to the right where it hit the wall and the castle absorbed it. History had not repeated itself. He had not suffered Gilderoy Lockhart's defeat. Everything was different now.

They both walked back to the centre table. "Right, separate into pairs and take turns to practice the defence charm. Be sure to direct your deflections to the ceiling. Professor Potter and I will be circulating to assess your progress."

Snape motioned for Harry to precede him and, as he passed, muttered, "Not bad, Potter."

---

AN: This chapter was a bit of silliness before the bad things start to happen. If you enjoyed, please don't forget to leave a review.