TITLE: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Seven
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.
BETA: Yay for the return of Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.
SUMMARY: There are plots to kill Harry, plots to catch Harry, and plots to force Harry to be a Good Boy. Harry, of course, is oblivious to the plots themselves, but the general effect on him is that he wants to beat everyone over the head with a stick. With Snape's help, he might not go completely crazy. (And just so you all know, I went back and put in the pithy titles. They may not have made it as far as FF yet, but hopefully they will soon.)
Chapter Seven: Insanity is Just a State of Mind
Harry struggled out from under Snape, his face flushed from exertion and embarrassment. Students were pouring from other compartments, some hysterical, some in shock; all of them seemed to be fighting for a chance to gawk at Harry and Severus. Hermione came running from the front of the train.
"Are you all right, Harry?" She didn't pause as she passed, though, instead moving to Snape and helping him to get gingerly to his feet.
Harry stared. "Fine. Snape? You all right?"
"Oh, I'm marvellous," the man muttered, stiffly straightening his robes.
Harry shifted from one foot to the other, wanting to question the man more about the attack. The Potions Master stepped forward, and it became apparent that he was limping. Harry moved to Snape's side, slipping an arm round his waist. "Here, back to your seat."
"I need to—"
"We have things under control, now," Hermione assured him. "There was a chocolate frog eating contest going on, just prior to the attack, so we're in pretty good shape, all things considered. Blaise and Ron are sorting everyone out and getting them seated again. I'll let you know if we have any problems."
Snape hesitated, and then nodded.
"Blaise?" Harry echoed as Hermione ducked back out into the chaos of the train.
"I…recommended him for the position of Head Boy, and Professor Dumbledore agreed," Snape replied, not meeting Harry's eyes.
"Blaise? As in the Slut of Slytherin? As in, 'Yeah, who cares if we're in the middle of a public passage, just shag me now' Blaise? As in, 'If you're not going to shag me, you're boring, and you're dumped' Blaise?" Harry demanded angrily.
"Um…I think I'm going to go see if Dennis is okay," Colin said, sneaking out the door.
Snape sighed. "He's taken on quite a bit of responsibility since Draco died, and I feel he ought to be rewarded, and challenged as well."
Harry sat back in his seat with a huff. He stared at Snape for a long moment. The man stretched his leg out, wincing a little. "Are you okay?" Harry finally asked again reluctantly.
"It's nothing to be concerned about," Snape responded flatly.
Harry frowned, but before he could argue, the door opened again and Ron popped his head in.
"Hey, mate. Hermione said you took a bit of a bruising, eh?"
"I'm fine," Harry disputed. "It's Snape who got hurt."
Ron shot the man a wary glance before sidling in and taking a seat. Harry was almost grateful for the distraction. Severus certainly wasn't being very forthcoming, and Harry wasn't sure how to approach him at the moment.
"Well, I think everyone in the train is fine," Ron said. "You hear about that chocolate frog eating contest? Good luck, that. A lot of the first years are really shaken up, but no one seems to have anything more serious than bumps or bruises. Oh! Except Eloise Midgen—someone stomped on her foot and broke it—but Hermione fixed it right up!" He beamed, glowing with pride in his girlfriend.
"She ought to have let me handle that," Snape grumbled. "It could have gone badly awry."
"Hey, she wouldn't have tried it if she wasn't certain she could do it," Ron protested. He turned back to Harry. "Dad told us about Snape at the Dursleys'. How was your summer with Old Sourpuss here?"
Harry laughed at the dark look Snape shot at Ron. "It could have been worse."
Snape arched a brow in his direction. "Really? I fail to see how."
"We're both alive and well," Harry reminded him. Snape sniffed, apparently unmoved, although Harry noticed that he didn't contradict him. "Anyway," he said to Ron. "It was a real…educational experience. Snape just swooped in and made himself at home. He has a lot of nerve, you know? I thought Aunt Petunia would keel over and die a couple of times; you should have seen her epic crusade to get her kitchen back. I'll bet she's happier than ever to have me gone."
"And are you now totally dark-spell-informed, ready to blast You-Know-Who back to the days of disco?"
Harry smiled wryly. "Well, I don't know about that. I have got all my school work done, though."
"Oh, come on. You lived with your own private Defence Tutor for almost a month, and you're not an expert yet? Bet you two did nothing but shag all summer," Ron said with disgust.
"Potter is somewhat more conversant with the strategies he'll need," Snape interrupted, "And I'll thank you to keep our sexual exploits out of it."
"Mate, I'd love nothing better than to keep your sexual exploits out of it. Unfortunately, since Harry does almost nothing these days but whine about how there aren't any, I—"
"Shut up, Ron," Harry growled.
"He's right. There aren't any," Snape confirmed. "Be sure to pass that along to Mother Dearest, would you?"
Ron just laughed. "Will do. That reminds me, did you see Ginny?"
"Did I ever! What's she playing at, dressing like some sort of…catholic schoolgirl streetwalker?"
"It's all about you, mate," Ron said wisely. "When isn't it? Ginny got the idea during the hols. She's going to 'turn you straight.' I can't say I'd be disappointed if she managed it, although I'm counting on Hermione to Obliviate me every time I have to see her breasts while she tries."
"Does your mum know she's dressing that way?" Harry inquired.
"Hell, she's encouraging it. Anything to save you from the filthy, deviant Death Eater."
"Former Death Eater," Harry reminded him. "and I'm just as deviant. I don't want to be changed."
Ron shrugged. "She worries. She says there are all sorts of nasty things you can catch, and that you can get hurt doing it that way, and that—"
"Only if you're not being careful," Harry interrupted. "It's none of her business—she's not the one taking it up the arse."
"At the moment, neither are you," Ron pointed out.
"I mean it Ron; keep her and Ginny out of my life." When he saw his friend's face darken, he hastened to add, "I love your family and all, but right now, they're driving me crazy."
"Tell me about it. You don't have to live with them."
OoOoOoOoO
Snape was glad to return to the closest thing he'd ever had to a home. He was relieved to find his dungeons in perfect order, his latest stores newly delivered from Hogsmead. He was thrilled to find that the house elves had kept everything clean and orderly and just the way he liked it. And he was overjoyed to find he still had a bottle of Old Ogden's in the liquor cabinet.
He was running late to the feast, and he knew it. Still, the day had already brought more than its share of Snape having to pretend to be sociable, or at least not curse anyone, so he figured he deserved a reward. He poured himself a small splash of the spirits, staring into the fire as he sipped from his glass.
Things were not going well. Already Voldemort had managed to make a very plausible threat to him, and the school year had hardly begun. The Dark Lord was not going to let Snape live to train Harry. He certainly wasn't going to be pleased with the possibility of Snape giving the boy some kind of useful knowledge. He would attack, rigorously, and often.
Snape wondered if he should give the boy up. Harry was in enough danger as it was. Being with the man exposed as a traitor would not earn him any brownie points.
The worst thing about Harry, Snape felt, was that the abominable flirt had given him hope. While hope was not, in and of itself, such a horrendous thing, he knew it was a sentiment he couldn't afford. He'd always assumed that Voldemort would one day end his life. His one, small dream was that he'd be able to die an honourable death, that he would somehow be redeemed for the mistakes of his youth. Not in their eyes; he never cared about the ubiquitous 'them,' and they could go fuck themselves. In his own.
Severus Snape was not a man with a great deal of forgiveness; he showed himself even less than he did his students. A knock sounded at the door, and he drew his wand reflexively. "Enter."
Blaise Zabini walked quietly into the room, carefully shutting the door behind him. His black hair was wayward, his curls unbrushed. He didn't look the casual, chic youth he'd once been. "I think everything's all right, for now," he said in a rather hoarse voice. "I distributed as much chocolate as I could, and quickly."
"Can it be traced to you?"
"Are you joking? So long as I don't have someone's tongue down my throat, I'm practically a non-entity," he replied. He sat in Harry's chair without being asked, but Severus couldn't work up the energy to do more than scowl. "I'm the invisible Slytherin—the only one who doesn't wail and gnash his teeth and stomp about bellowing nonsense about pure blood. No, as far as anyone knows, it was Crabbe's doing. He and Goyle are famous for being pigs, so it was just a macho face-stuffing contest that spilled over. No one's even mentioned it."
"I've heard it mentioned," Snape shot back with some heat. "Both Granger and Weasley took note. I'd not worry about Weasley, but Granger is too intelligent for her own good. Don't pull stunts like that in front of her. You'll be lucky to get away with it this time."
"Yes, well…I have other news, as well. It wasn't as urgent, so I thought I'd save it for when we had—"
A pre-emptory knock came on the door, and the handle turned. Snape fired a Stopping Spell at it, and it stayed fast.
"Severus? Come on, open up," Harry moaned. "I'm tired, and I don't have the energy for games."
Severus stared at Blaise, thinking quickly. He didn't wish Harry to know about Blaise—not now, not yet. Things could too easily unravel once that happened, and Snape had barely had time to process things, let alone make any plans. He gestured to the door that led to the rest of his rooms. "Give us a few moments, would you?" he asked in a muted voice.
Blaise nodded, slipping away on cat-like feet. He closed the door behind him, but not all the way. Snape could still see a shadowed eye peering through the crack, and wondered whether he should be apprehensive about the tart not hiding himself well enough, or merely grateful that he was still in eyesight.
Taking a deep breath, Snape went to the door. "Mister Potter, I ask very little out of life. I seem to get even less. One of the things I cherish is my own private space, and I'm also fond of those miniscule amounts of time in which I am able to enjoy it on my own. Is that really so much to ask?"
Harry tilted his head, his expression irritated. "You're late to the feast, you know. If you don't have to go, then I bloody well don't see why I should have to go." He took his place on the chair Severus had gotten him last year—the one Blaise had vacated— smiling a little as he ran a hand over one of the arms. "Gosh, it's nice to be home."
Snape was nearly apoplectic. "You—you—that's—my—sodding—" he broke off, gulping air. Pulling himself together, he glared down at Harry. "Mister Potter, whatever liaison you and I might have the benefit of, whatever the Headmaster may suffer you to do, and however much I personally covet your sweet little arse, this is NOT YOUR HOME! You enter at my behest, and never at any other time. NEVER. Do I make myself clear?"
"As grouchily as always," Harry grumbled. "And it's still more of a home to me than anywhere else is," he said, unconsciously echoing Snape's earlier sentiments. "I was sort of hoping you might give me the key again this term."
Snape flicked an unhappy glance at his hidden co-conspirator. "Mister Potter, we are not having this discussion now. I have had enough trauma for one day, without your attempted invasion. Was there something you actually needed, or are you merely here to grant me a few more grey hairs?"
"You don't have any grey hairs," Harry muttered, but quailed under Snape's furious stare. "Actually, I wanted to know how you got rid of the Dementors. It looked like you threw something at them."
Snape bit his lip for a moment. "I used a bottle of Blustering Brew—a particularly strong one. Dementors are powerful in regards to magic, but very weak physically. It takes little to shift one from its place."
Harry's eyes were wide. "Oh. Wow. I didn't know there was such a thing. Pretty wicked," he said admiringly. "I was going to do a Patronus."
Snape gave a grunt of disapproval. "Against so many? It could not have worked. You wouldn't have been able to run them all off. You're not even of age—it would have been madness to think you could achieve the power needed for such an act."
"I'm nearly sure I could have done it," Harry responded mutinously. "And you're of age. Why didn't you just do the Patronus spell?"
Snape was glowering now. He muttered something unintelligible after Harry stared at him expectantly for a few moments.
"What was that?"
"I said that I can't perform the Patronus spell. Many wizards can't," he added defiantly as Harry's eyebrows rose. "It's hardly a simple spell."
"I'll teach you," Harry offered.
"Absolutely not. I—"
"I will," Harry insisted. "It'll be payment, of a sort. You're always teaching me, and taking time out of your schedule to do it. It'll be useful, too!"
Snape gave a groan of despair, resolutely keeping his back turned toward Blaise. "We'll discuss it another time. For now, you need to get upstairs."
"You're coming too, right?" Harry asked, fidgeting with worry. "You're not going to lock yourself away down here and drink all night, are you?"
"No," Snape sighed. "I'll be up shortly. Just go, all right?"
Reluctantly, Harry got up and gave the Potions Master a tentative hug. Snape gave him an awkward pat on the back, shooing him out the door. "I promise I can teach you the Patronus spell," Harry told him.
"I doubt it," Snape replied cantankerously. "I have no happy memories."
OoOoOoOoO
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, wishing, for nearly the first time in his life, that he were back at Privet Drive. Ron and Hermione were lost in each other, breathlessly discussing the Dementors and how clever they had been during the attack. Ron had his arm tight round her shoulder, and Harry nearly expected his mate to coo with adoration.
He wanted to be sick.
Snape was at the staff table, avoiding his eyes. Remus, on the other hand, was there as well, and giving him the sort of flinty, 'You'd better behave' sort of look that Harry almost couldn't bear it. Ginny was seated to Harry's left, and kept scooting her chair closer. He tried to scoot away, but that meant getting closer to Colin, who looked elated at the intrusion, and was babbling giddily about how brave Harry was to have run out to face the Dementors.
"I didn't even manage to do anything," Harry finally exclaimed in exasperation.
That brought Colin up short—for a fraction of a second. "But you were going to," he pointed out. "It's just that Professor Snape interrupted. And you probably would have gotten rid of them all, wouldn't you? I can just picture it—you standing tall and proud, with your wand drawn, and all the Dementors swirling thickly around you, and—"
Harry rolled his eyes. The two people he did want to talk to were too absorbed with each other, and the two he'd rather left him alone were all over him like hives. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"And are you, Harry?" Colin was asking him. "Are you? You really should. It'd be brilliant."
Harry blinked. "Am I what?"
"Are you going to start up the D.A. again?" Ginny spoke up. "And Colin's right, peculiar as it might be. You really should, Harry. It'd be good for everyone." The way she said 'everyone,' all breathy and soft, clued Harry in.
He scooted even closer to Colin, who looked like he might wet himself with excitement. "I—I—maybe," Harry stammered.
"Oh, Harry, you know what you ought to do?" Hermione suddenly piped up. Sure, now she had something to say, and of course it would be telling Harry what he ought to do.
Harry began grinding his teeth. "What, Hermione?"
"You should ask Professor Snape to assist."
Harry stared at her.
"You know, that's a fantastic idea," Ron said immediately. "What's the point of letting the irascible old bastard boff you if you're not getting anything out of it?"
"Ron!" Hermione scolded. They promptly transformed from honeymooners into a bickering old couple.
Harry ignored them both. "Well…it might be kind of difficult to convince him," he said slowly. "But really, he's always wanted the Defence position…and I might be able to mitigate how nasty he can be." He glanced up at his lover. The man was giving Lupin his every occasion SCOWL OF DOOM.™ He certainly ought to appreciate the chance to show everyone that he could be a competent—if not actually well liked—Defence teacher. Plus, Harry would have an excuse to visit Severus in private and attempt to be 'persuasive.'
Colin was beaming in response to the grin that slowly spread across Harry's face. "Will you do it, Harry? Will you start up the D.A. and ask Professor Snape to help and teach us all how to do the Patronus spell and all the other spells you know?"
Harry looked back at Colin, in better spirits than he'd been all evening. "Yeah," he said. "I'll do it."
Thanks to:
Sbyamibakura—Obsessions are good! My beta is back in town, now, so the chapters should come more quickly.
Xxsaturnprincessxx—Thanks!
Tristheweatherwitch—(You can't see me, but I'm preening.) I'm off to write some more story right now. Stay out of trouble! ; )
Johnnydoggspitt—Don't worry, I call everyone 'kid' too. Or sweetheart, which can be infinitely more problematic. More cliffies on the way, I don't doubt!
Chantelli—I'm going to get bored with having my praises sung? What planet are you from? And I'm in love with multiple fictional characters. They don't have real flaws, and you can imagine them without actually having to deal with them.
Lutheyl—Thanks very much!
Tropicwhale—I don't know about that. It's hard to do a good 'established relationship' fic, but I think I'm getting the hang of it as I go along. And you're lucky. The other night I dreamt I was feeding a leopard to two hyenas and the hyenas attacked me. Now that's a nightmare.
Sweet Mercy—Hee! I just like my Snape closer to IC, and I want Harry to like him that way, too. Moose head?
Echo the Insane—Thanks! I'm having fun writing it…most of the time. Making people stare at you oddly is one of the raisons d'etre!
Kyer—I think I might have gone a bit Terry Pratchett with that line…it reminds me of the Patrician, somehow.
Steffles24—There was a discussion on LJ about how someone always hit the back button when they read Sev. saying 'Harry, my love,' so I just HAD to do it. I'm evil. I kept meaning to put the snakeball in and forgetting. And you know, Harry probably wishes he could smack Sev upside the head for the same reasons, sometimes!
Purplepaper—I like your name! And thanks!
Aribella—So did something better manage to happen after 10:00 A.M.?
Lotrox—I'm not revealing a thing! You'll have to find out for yourself in future chaps, but let's just say that I'm protecting my spies very well…
Jenonymous—You know, I think I have a thing for plagues. I use the word a lot. (laughs) You know, paisley seems to be BACK. It's all over Walmart. shudders Hey, I didn't get born late in the 70s just to have to live through that AGAIN, did I? Oh, M&Ms for PMS…would be soooooo nice right now. 20 more pounds. 20 more pounds. I can do it.
Qem—(g) I'd still love for Sev to read sonnets to me, though. With that VOICE…
GriffRavHuffSlythendor the Great—Yeah, naughty Sev will make it into an upcoming chapter for sure, but we'll get more naughty Harry, first.