Author:Walter O'Dim

Title:Sunstroke

Category: Romance/Humour
Rating: K+
Summary: An upsurge of solar activity leads to most unexpected consequences...Hagrid/Snape/Harry (alternative OotP).

Chapter Four

Hagrid's Troubles

Snape wasn't the only one at Hogwarts who had problems with his sleep. Hagrid had slept badly that night, too. The reason was simple: he was in love with Snape. There was no better way of putting it. He didn't know how on earth it had happened, he just knew it had. All his thoughts were about Snape, and to Snape they invariably returned if Hagrid tried to think of something else. Hagrid was in physical need of the Potions master; he wanted to run his hands through his hair, he wanted to caress his body, to kiss him. It was utter madness, and Hagrid could only think of one way of fighting it: he drank. As a result he entered a semiconscious state punctuated with incoherent thoughts of Snape and pervaded by a dulled longing for him; he slept fitfully, and once he talked to Fang.

"Y'know, Fang," he slurred, "I'm in luv with Professor Snape."

"Really?" said Fang. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"I dunno…"

"If you want him to love you in return, you've got to court him," Fang said wisely. "He isn't going to fall into your arms just like that; you've got to make an effort to win his heart."

Having said that, Fang started to lick his balls, and Hagrid, astounded by the wisdom of Fang's words, fell asleep again.

He was woken by voices outside his cabin. His awakening was slow, as if he were rising from the depths of the Black Lake. First he saw light. Then the light cleared, and he registered that he was in a room. Then he recognized the room as his cabin. Then he became aware of hearing sounds. Then he identified the sounds as human voices. Then it came to him that the voices must belong to students who had come to their Care of Magical Creatures class. Then came the logical conclusion that it was time for the lesson to begin, and he was still lying in his bed.

"Oh, no," moaned Hagrid and tried to get up. Immediately, pain pierced his head, and he moaned even louder, recognizing the symptoms of a hangover. And then it hit him: "Dumbledore has forbidden me to drink! He said he'd sack me if he saw me drunk again!" Something had to be done, and quickly. Hagrid had a certain potion that could help him; if he could only get to it…

The third years waiting outside Hagrid's cabin were becoming increasingly bewildered. The bell had rung ten minutes before, and still Hagrid didn't show up. Then a mighty thud came from inside the cabin, accompanied by moaning and barking. It was soon followed by another thud, sounds of something breaking and Hagrid's loud cursing (the students had fallen silent, watching the cabin as though it were a riveting performance). Finally, they heard loud vomiting; many of them made sounds of disgust. When the door of the cabin opened and Hagrid emerged, everyone drew back in alarm and some girls even shrieked. Given Hagrid's appearance, it was quite understandable: his hair stood up in zany clumps, his eyes were swollen and bloodshot, his face was a delicate shade of green and he was swaying slightly on the spot.

"Hello, third years," he said in such a scary hoarse voice that the students took another step backward. "Erm…sorry to 'ave kept yeh waitin', I – uh – had to sort somethin' out".

His words were met by utter silence. The students were still eyeing him in fear, although some of them were smirking and whispering to each other.

"Erm…righ', then," said Hagrid, whose face had reddened again – this time with embarrassment. "To our lesson…"

Hagrid more or less managed to conduct the lesson – the potion he'd taken was very effective at clearing one's head – but he felt awful, both physically and mentally. He was in mortal fear that the students would tattle about his hangover and the rumour would finally reach Dumbledore's ears. And, which was even worse, his longing for Professor Snape had returned. What with that, and the thoughts about the prospect of losing his job, it was a miracle that Hagrid had managed to tell the third-years some relatively coherent information about flobberworms and had even given some answers that more or less fit the questions. It was a great relief to both parties when the bell finally rang. Hagrid was doubly relieved because his next hour was free and he could try and get a grip on himself.

When he returned to the privacy of his cabin, however, Hagrid was so overwhelmed with desire for Professor Snape that he only got a grip on a certain part of himself – admittedly, it was a very strong grip. Soon he came, dousing half the cabin, and sank to the floor, moaning. And, as he sat there, reclining against the door and catching his breath, he remembered Fang's words: If you want him to love you in return, you've got to court him. "Tha's it!" he thought, his spirits rising. "A little courtin' on my part, an' Snapey will be mine in no time!" Already he saw in his mind's eye himself and Snape kissing with the moon in the background…but the image faded as a question occurred to him: how exactly did one go about courting a middle-aged, reclusive Potions master? He posed the question to Fang and got a blank look in reply. Hagrid supposed that if he got drunk again, it would loosen Fang's tongue, but he just couldn't risk it. It seemed that he'd have to figure everything out on his own.

Hagrid sighed and started to think.