TITLE: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Ten
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Belongs to J.K. Rowling, etc.
BETA: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.
SUMMARY: Harry gets conscripted for a new role, and poor Snape never quite gets what he wants.
Chapter Ten: Leadership Skills are for Suckers
Harry wiped his hands on his robes, looking nervously around at the Quidditch hopefuls gathered on the Pitch. "So…uh…I'm not really sure how to do this," he confessed. "Ginny suggested I try out for Captain of the Quidditch team, but right now we have people competing for regular positions, too. It doesn't seem fair to me to just name me as Quidditch Captain without taking a vote, but it doesn't seem right to vote before filling the other positions, either."
It was true; after Katie Bell had graduated, Harry was the only remaining member of the team that had been formed six years ago, leaving him feeling his age. There was Ron as Keeper and Ginny as a Chaser, but they needed new Beaters and two more Chasers as well.
"Could we see what everyone's got, make a decision on that first, and then vote in a Captain?" Ron suggested.
Harry sagged in relief. Ron had been acting really odd lately—sort of quiet and cross, but unwilling to talk it out, so Harry was grateful he was talking again. "Great, yeah, let's do that," Harry said, nodding vigorously.
Ginny looked slightly irritated for a moment, but then seemed to shrug off whatever was bothering her. "All right. Well, why don't you guys show us your moves?" she asked the aspirants. "Form a queue here, and we'll start with everyone taking a go at Ron. Then we'll have each of you taking a turn beating off a bludger. And we'll have a look at your speed, too."
Watching, Harry was dead impressed with Ginny's no-nonsense approach to the tryouts, and privately wondered whether she wouldn't be a better Captain. The kids lined up, broomsticks in hands, and the rest of the team positioned themselves. Colin Creevey was first up, looking like he was about to burst from enthusiasm. Harry watched from the ground, Ginny sat on her broom a few feet away from Ron, and Ron just watched them come.
Colin mounted his broom and shot up into the air, a Quaffle tucked under his arm. Harry marvelled at the speed the boy achieved, although he had to wince when Colin went to throw the Quaffle at Ron, braked hard, and nearly fell off his broom. His throw didn't have much behind it, either, and didn't get near the Keeper before plummeting earthward.
The other candidates weren't much better, and each time a beater's bat swung and connected with nothing but air, or a Quaffle missed the goal, Harry's stomach tightened. He was starting to think the season was a loss, and it hadn't even started yet.
Finally, when the tryouts ended, Harry got together with the rest of the team to confer. "I don't know what to do," he whispered. "They're all bloody awful!"
"They're not that bad," Ginny argued. "Ron was worse in his first season. They're just nervous. Who do we know for sure we don't want?"
"O'Malley's no good," Ron said promptly. "I know he's Seamus' cousin, but he's way too clumsy. I don't think it was just nerves, either; I saw him dump an entire pitcher of orange juice all over Lavender Brown at breakfast the other day."
"Not him, then," Harry agreed. "What about Colin?"
"Absolutely not," Ginny said with conviction. "You saw him; he could barely lift the Quaffle."
"He was fast, though," Ron said.
"Yeah…" Harry pondered it a few moments. What he really thought was that Colin would make an ideal Seeker, but he wasn't prepared to give up the position. "I think he'll get better with time," he said tentatively. "He just needs practice, patience, and a good workout every day."
Ginny glowered at him, but the rest of the team voted her down. Colin stayed.
"Oh, my gosh, this is so great! Now we'll be able to spend even more time together, Harry!" Colin squealed when the new roster was revealed.
Trying not to cringe, Harry stuck his hand out and allowed Colin to…well, shake it, he supposed, although it seemed more like the bouncy blond was merely holding onto it with both of his and hopping up and down excitedly. "Yeah, congratulations," he managed to say stoically.
Ginny locked eyes with him, and her expression said everything necessary. I told you so! Harry looked back at Colin, thinking of all the extra time and effort he'd have to spend training him. It was going to be a long season.
OoOoOoOoO
Severus stood regally at the front of the room, relishing the silence. Something like forty-two pairs of eyes (all right, exactly forty-two pairs of eyes, but he really hadn't intended to count them) stared back at him. He watched Potter stammer and stutter and try to explain things.
"Soo-oooo, he won't be here every time, but he'll be here now and again to help out," the boy finished lamely. He fidgeted a little, and Snape fought to keep from rolling his eyes.
Applause burst out from the vicinity of the Creevey brat, spreading feebly around the room. The mousy little monster said, "Spiffing! Only Harry could have done something like that—gotten Snape the Scary to help out. Isn't Harry amazing?"
This time, Snape did roll his eyes. Most of the rest of the class seemed remarkably cowed, shifting from one foot to the other, muttering a little, and not meeting the instructor's eyes. "Is this all they do?" he couldn't help sniping at Potter. "Stand about and give themselves over to the throes of adolescent awkwardness? It's like a truly pathetic tea social, without the tea and very little of the social."
"I think you're making them nervous," Harry told him in a stage whisper.
"Well, good. If they ever do end up having to either fire off curses or dredge up decent shielding spells, they'll not be doing it in Aunt Saphronia's parlour during elevenses. They'll be doing it whilst facing men like Malfoy and Rodolphus Lestrange, and likely wetting themselves simultaneously."
"Well, then it's good you're here, adding to the realism, because I'm nearly certain poor Neville wet himself the moment you walked in the door. And what are you on about—facing Malfoy? Malfoy deserted, didn't he?"
Snape hesitated, swallowing. "Apparently not, Mister Potter. Lord of the Angst, 'I've-Lost-My-Darling-Son-and-Only-Heir' Malfoy was, it seems, not as concerned with that particular loss as he'd have had us believe, and is once again at the Dark Lord's side."
Little whispering hisses erupted from the rest of the students, but both Harry and Severus ignored them. "What? He—went back to Voldemort? Really? When? That bastard!" Harry finished up, shaking his head a little.
"He went back to the Dark Lord, yes, yes, sometime last summer, and I concur, in that order," Severus replied with a sneer. "Now, shall we get this party started?" He rounded on the class. "Queue up!" he barked. "I'm going to hit you with Incarcerous, and you're each going to try to stop me. If you manage it, you get a point for your house, and that disgustingly warm and squishy feeling inside that comes from not having arsed it up."
"Wait a second!" Harry interrupted with a frown, and Severus turned on his heel to glare daggers at the boy. "Well—I mean—all right, but why that spell? I'd thought since this was your first class, we might try working on the Patronus spell, and…uh…." Harry stumbled to a halt, apparently deciding, after watching the man turn puce, that he'd made a tactical error.
"We shall work on Incarcerous because if a Death Eater captures you and wants to keep you alive, and wants to question you, this is the spell he or she will use. Unlike a full body bind or any sort of petrification, it still allows the mouth to work. It's a favourite for the…less important captives, you understand? We'd merely work a killing curse if someone were in our way, or something relatively painful if we were looking for vengeance, but for the rabble that makes up this class, Incarcerous would most likely do."
Harry swallowed. Severus could see the wheels turning, and by the tense silence pervading the room, Harry wasn't the only one to have worked it out. Severus spoke from experience, and he wasn't sugar-coating things.
"Right," Harry croaked after a minute or so. "Right. Incarcerous. That's…helpful. Thank you, Professor Snape. Queue up, everyone."
"Tally ho!" Colin added cheerfully, and was first in line. Snape didn't know whether to be annoyed or grateful. At least it distracted everyone from himself, and it got them moving.
Thick cords sprung from the man's wand, wrapping securely around the boy and tripping him up; he fell to the floor with a satisfying 'thunk.' "Next!" Snape called, his own voice as close to cheerful as it ever got. This was turning out to be almost…fun.
Parvati stepped up, managing a mild bloating hex before being felled. Severus wasn't impressed. "Petty teenaged retribution for having stolen one's beau is hardly the appropriate training for facing the Dark Lord, girl," he noted acidly.
She writhed on the floor, legs kicking against her bonds, until That Damned Granger (as Severus had recently taken to calling her within the confines of his mind) had mercy and performed the counter-spell.
They lined up to fall, one by one. Surprisingly, of the few who were any good at all, Neville Longbottom actually managed to avoid getting hit. For one thing, he leapt quite un-athletically to the side, and at the same time fired off Serpentsortia, which kept Severus distracted until the boy had scampered away to the end of the line. Snape didn't say so, but he was mildly impressed.
Harry, of course, hit Severus with an Itching Curse before the man could lift his wand, and then gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that."
"You're an idiot. I must have taught you at least fifteen damaging-but-not-lethal spells made for just such an occasion last year, and this is what you give me?" he griped, digging his nails into the back of his neck. "If you could be killed and still allowed to come back to life after having learnt your lesson, I'd have broken you into at least ten pieces by now. And perhaps sold them to the more devout believers as holy relics for a bit of extra cash."
That Damned Granger got by entirely unscathed, and Weasley managed a passable Hemorrhaging Hex, but most of the rest of the students were pants at it. Abbott almost got away, but he'd nailed her in the end, that odd little Slytherin—John, or was it Jack?—went down quickly, making snappy comments about bondage, and then…then came Zabini.
"Ooooh," the irritant cooed, making a show of pursing his lips at Severus. "Don't point that thing at me unless you're prepared to use it!"
Evidently, he wasn't prepared for the Crucio Severus inflicted on him.
Once the youth's screams of pain had reached an adequate volume, Severus halted the curse abruptly.
"Don't you ever treat this as a game, boy," he growled.
OoOoOoOoO
"That was…a bit much, don't you think?" Harry asked breathlessly. He'd followed the man down to his rooms, and Severus had taken the stairs two at a time, his face set in an unreadable expression.
"Oh, really, pet?" the Potions Master turned to snarl at him. "Do you think that, once the Death Eaters have got their hands on the boy, have tortured him right to the brink of psychosis, someone like Antonin Dolohov will turn to the others and say, 'Gosh, mates, it's all a bit much, don't you think?' Is that really what you're proposing?"
Harry frantically shook his head. "No! Just…no. I just—never mind. It just adds a whole new dimension of tension and terror when you're attending the D.A. meetings, that's all. Never a dull moment, eh?" Harry looked down at his legs, which were shaking, and made his way over to his chair.
Snape poured himself a snifter of brandy, considered it for a moment, and poured Potter one as well. "Here," he muttered, nudging the boy with it. "I suspect you need this as much as I do." He watched speculatively as Harry gulped at it, made a face, and then gulped at it again. "If you insist on drinking it that way, I'm going to start procuring the really cheap stuff," he warned the lad.
"All right," Harry said tonelessly.
Severus felt misgivings stirring, and sat beside the youth. "I realize that the lesson was not a pleasant one, but the fact of the matter is that, if ever they should really find themselves facing a Death Eater, it will be anything but a pleasant experience. Most of their previous teachers were worthless, and Lupin coddled them to a horrifying degree. They need to learn, and quickly."
"I know!" Harry suddenly yelped, slamming his drink down on the table so that it sloshed over the rim. He leapt to his feet, pacing furiously, hand sweeping repeatedly through his wild hair. "Don't you think I know that? But I hate seeing it! I hate knowing that someone would do that to them. I hate that they have to learn it. I wish they didn't have to know."
"I understand. I'd protect you as well, if I could."
"You do realize that slag Zabini could go straight off to Dumbledore and have you sacked?" Harry demanded, turning to pierce the man with an angry look.
"He will not. He assuredly will not."
"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.
Severus heaved a sigh. "I apologize if I offended your delicate sensibilities," he said, changing the subject.
Harry snorted. "You can make it up to me in the bedroom," he suggested.
Snape merely smirked. "Still, I have to admit," he said after a length of time had passed, "it was deuced gratifying to see that harlot flat on his back and shrieking—not that he isn't often."
Harry attempted to give him a disapproving look over the rim of his glass. "Don't be such a sadist," he said primly.
"I can't help it. It's in my nature. Besides," he added darkly, "it's not as though it's something he hasn't felt before or won't feel again. Believe me, you don't get sorted into Slytherin without knowing all about the taste of pain."
Harry frowned, sloshing his drink around. "That's going to stop," he murmured. "I don't know how, but that's messed up, and it's going to have to stop."
Severus was unconvinced. "Perhaps."
OoOoOoOoO
"Correct, Granger. Five points to Gryffindor," Snape spat unhappily.
Hermione beamed, and Harry managed to give her a half smile, although he sort of felt bad for Professor Snape. Since Draco had died, none of the Slytherins were any good in Potions, and Hermione seemed to outclass everyone. He was sure it irritated the man to see Gryffindor doing so well.
Draco Malfoy seemed to float to the forefront of Harry's mind, and the youth swallowed hard. There had been too many deaths—Cedric's, Sirius', Draco's…and more seemed imminent. Worse, Harry often forgot to be unhappy about them, and it seemed wrong—a betrayal of Sirius, especially—to be happy with his own life when they had none.
"Stop wandering off and playing with the unicorns and sparkly things in your head," Snape snapped. "Pay attention to your Perplexing Potion."
Harry snapped back to the present, realizing just in time that he was about to add a handful of porcupine quills before the banshee tears. Exhaling, he set them back down, managing a small smile to quell the Rising Eyebrow of Concern that Snape was giving him.
"Parkinson, we'll test yours, since you're inexplicably the first finished," the man said. He examined it minutely, holding up a vial and tilting it in the dungeon light. "It looks correct," he muttered reluctantly. "Regrettably, the headmaster has issued a new directive this year prohibiting me from forcing you to drink your own disasters, so I'm doomed to the fate of the test subject. Granger, if anything untoward should happen to me, you are to use my Floo to contact Madam Pomfrey immediately."
Hermione nodded apprehensively, and the class collectively leaned forward and watched the professor swallow the lot. There was a great intake of breath, which was slowly let out as catastrophe failed to occur.
"Thank Merlin," Harry said under his breath.
"Well, I'm perplexed by the lack of perplexity I'm feeling, if that's anything at all," Severus said, shoulders drooping in either disappointment or relief. "Still, as I appear not to have grown any extra appendages, developed the ability to charm small children, or exploded spectacularly, you seem to not have made too big a pig's ear out of it. Well done, Miss Parkinson. Six points for Slytherin."
Pansy beamed.
"Six!" Hermione blurted. "You only gave me five, and I answered correctly!"
"That's three points from Gryffindor for impugning my infallible judgment," he retorted. "Class dismissed."
Snape gave Harry a look—the one that said he was in his element and content with the world, and that he wanted to grab Harry and snog him before this changed. Harry knew that'd have to wait until later, but he was still grinning when he left for his next class.
Out in the hallway, Hermione threw a sharp elbow to his ribs. "Will you stop simpering like an idiot?" she demanded. "And just for future reference, your boyfriend is a real berk."
Harry laughed at her. "Yeah, I know. Comes from thinking he knows everything," he couldn't resist adding. Hermione gave him a suspicious look, but didn't say anything.
OoOoOoOoO
Snape paced in his study, pausing occasionally to sip a glass of cognac. It felt good, warm and familiar as it slid down his throat. He'd been trying to work up the schedule for the next week, but had found himself unable to concentrate. His head seemed to be spinning a bit, and he thought this vaguely trying, but ignored it in favour of concentrating on his drink, which was likely the cause of the problem.
Harry was late. Severus wasn't certain why that fact wound him up so, but it did. It had been a day with more pros than cons—he'd doled out more points to Slytherin than were genuinely warranted, Blaise Zabini was now avoiding him, he'd managed to nettle That Damned Granger, and Harry had given him a number of lascivious looks in class—and Snape had hoped to celebrate.
With the boy, of course—and an abundant supply of alcohol. He was also hoping to avoid the headmaster, Lupin, and the rest of the staff, and evade any references to Harry's friends, particularly—
A knock finally sounded at his door, interrupting Severus' musing. "Come in," he called out. His voice sounded a bit off, even to himself.
"Severus?" Harry poked an inquisitive head round the door, his eyes bright and his hair dishevelled. He had a smear of ink across the bridge of his nose, and Snape thought the youth had never looked so appealing.
"Here, boy," he said, sinking into his chair. "Would you care to join me in an evening libation?"
Harry grinned, shutting the door behind him. "Would I!" He hurried over to Snape, climbing onto the man and straddling his lap. Chapped lips were pressed adoringly to Snape's, and the boy tickled the seam of the man's mouth with his tongue.
Severus moaned softly, trying not to let his glass tip. Eventually he pulled away. "You don't have the foggiest notion of what a libation is, do you?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "Whatever it is, it sounds like a hell of a lot of fun, particularly if it can be done with me in your lap."
The man gave him a lazy smile, his fingers creeping over Harry's rumpled clothing. "It means, informally, an intoxicating beverage, or the act of drinking an intoxicating beverage, you endearing little bugger."
Harry frowned, leaning back a bit. "Oh! I thought it was some sort of semi-legal, kinky kind of thing," he replied. "Pity."
"Indeed. But if it is deviant that you're hoping for, I could probably oblige." The man deftly gave one of Harry's nipples a twist through his robes, causing the boy to jump.
"Whoa! I—wait—what?" Harry swallowed. "Are you seriously suggesting we…um…you know, after all this insistence on waiting?"
Snape gave him a scathing look, taking another long drink. "For heaven's sake, Potter," he growled after lowering the glass, "have the maturity to actually say it, would you? I don't care what you call it—having sex, fucking, shagging, screwing, the nauseatingly euphemistic 'making love,' just call it something."
Harry blinked. "Ah…right. Sex, then. We…you…want to have…sex?" he inquired, his expression both hopeful and puzzled.
"I've wanted to have sex with you for a good year now. I'm merely acting on the desire tonight. Do you have any idea how long a year is?" he asked wistfully, the tips of his fingers brushing the boy's jaw. "Three hundred and sixty-five days. Eight thousand, seven hundred and sixty hours. Five hundred and twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes. Thirty-one million five hundred and thirty-six thousand seconds that I have refrained from making you mine. I'm sick of waiting. I want you now."
Harry shuddered happily. "Ohmygosh, letmegetundressedbeforeyouchangeyourmind," he rushed out, shucking his shirt. He let out a whine of pleasure as the man leaned forward and snaked a tongue over Harry's collarbone. "Oh wow. I've wanted this so bad for so long," Harry gasped.
Snape, who was somewhat occupied unfastening the youth's trousers, gave him an irritable glance. "Oh really? It's funny how you managed to be late tonight, then, considering."
Harry watched the man's fingers, hardly listening. "Not my fault," he muttered. "Ginny cornered me about Quidditch again and wouldn't let it go."
The man's head snapped up. "You tell that cut-rate cunt to keep her hands off of you."
Harry reared back as though he'd been slapped. "What? Where did that come from?" He searched the man's face. "What's wrong with you? Even you're not usually that bad."
Snape had turned his attention to Harry's neck, nuzzling it in an abnormally soppy way. "I don't want to lose you," he muttered. He felt Harry settle a hand on his head, stroking it gently. "She has things to offer that I haven't. Like breasts. And a large, verminous family, and an unbreakable tie to her brother, and youth, and the ability to be socially accepted."
"Yes," Harry said contemplatively, "still, you're the one I chose, and you're the one I love. And it's all a bit odd, really; you're not normally this forthright. Are you sure something hasn't happened to you?"
"I have been feeling a bit off all day," Severus admitted. "But it's hardly anything noteworthy. I've just been a bit dizzy…perhaps a little impatient, as well. I don't want to talk about my health anymore, or that Weasley wench, for that matter. Kiss me."
Harry succumbed to the man's insistent embrace, twining his fingers in Severus' hair as the man proceeded to suck his earlobe. "Ooooh, that's nice," Harry whispered.
"You like that, do you?" Snape responded, gratified. "Well…I like it, too." Severus felt dizzier than ever, yet he'd never felt this good. Everything felt out of his control, and outside of his responsibility. He was finally giving in, and he was enjoying it.
"Snape…" Harry murmured. "I don't think we ought to be doing this."
Pushing Harry off his lap, Severus stood and began slipping out of his robes, as well. He gave a shark-like grin at the way the youth's breath hitched when he skimmed the material down past his hips. "I could do things to you that will leave you weak from pleasure, Harry," he promised in a low voice.
"I know, and Merlin knows I want this, want you, but…it's not right. Something's wrong with you, and I'd be taking advantage. Crikey, this is the hardest thing I've ever done," he whimpered. Severus had taken Harry's hand, licked his fingertips, tongue swirling wickedly. "No, Snape," Harry croaked, yanking his hand away. "We can't. I won't. You'd want me to say no, if you were you. I mean—if you were right in your head."
"Are you certain?" Snape asked, feeling a strangely momentary sting of disappointment. At the look in Harry's eyes, Snape knew he'd have to look elsewhere for entertainment. He began shrugging his clothing back on.
Another knock came on the door, and Severus had a fleeting hope that it would be Blaise, who would never, under any circumstances, say 'no.' "Enter," he rasped.
Dumbledore stood in the doorway, disregarding Harry and his state of undress. "Severus, if you would follow me," he said, peering at the Potions Master over his half moon spectacles. "We have a problem."
A/N: Thanks to:
Plimpy
Becki: Oh, Ginny's pretty tenacious, I think. I'm not fond of her either, to tell the truth.
Aki: Truer words were never spoken. And I won't make you live without it!
Misox: Hee hee! One convert is worth a dozen saints. Draco/Harry tends to be too fluffy for me. I personally like my snark. BUT, I did write a bit of Draco (see Dark Lord's Little Helper) and discovered he can be snarky, too!
Tristheweatherwitch: I'm sure Remus has his reasons. He is, after all, the logical one. And my writer's block actually lifted recently! Huzzah!
Madkornfan: Aw, but Snape is so sunshiny cheerful! ; ) And funny is all in the way you see things. Try talking to yourself. It's helped me immensely.
Person: Sure thing!
Marthsgirls: Aw, thanks! R& D is still one of my favorites. Ah, the leash scene. Good times.
Lotrobsession: I refuse to believe a nationally syndicated television show is better than I am! Besides, I deplore the lack of Victorian-era clothing and large-nosed professors.
AralynnEvenstar: Well, I WISH I could nail Snape…and Harry does as well, no doubt! Thanks!
Echo the Insane: You want them in a pit filled with jello/pudding/mud and very little clothing, don't you. Damn it. Now I've got plot bunnies.
AccioRemus: Thank you! Sometimes it's annoying that everyone wants pure happy fluff. You need discontentment to get plot, to get progress, to get the good stuff! I love the Snarry because I love TENSION. Mmmm. Tension.
Nagini Crimson: Remus is thinking, he's just not expressing himself very well. And Blaise! Oh, the Blaise. Never have I had such fun!
Chantelli: I know Remus is generally laid back, but if he feels Harry's threatened…and I love desperate!Harry. He tries so hard, the poor boy.
Johnny Doggspitt: Pshaw, I say. You're a perfectly good writer yourself! And yay for deepness, indeed! And late nights. Speaking of which…so tired!
Lychee2: Hmm. It was also in my favorite American tall tale, "The Devil and Daniel Webster." Which only goes to show you don't find the word anthracite anywhere normal. It's one of my favories, though! And yes, you win the superior vocabulary cookie of the day.
Aribella: Oh, how I love Harry being manipulative. He's so much fun that way! Alas, Blaise is even more so…
Lutheyl: I'm never fond of Ginny, myself, but oh, well…
im-a-daydream-believer: Remus will get a bit of a chance to explain next chapter. A lot of it has to do with perspective. You know, I can't really see Sev trying to get on ANYONE'S good side. I can't wait for HPB; I look forward to his interactions with Voldie… And I think Snape knew that Harry was lying, but decided not to call him on it.
Jemma Blackwell: Aw, dumb is such a politically incorrect wording. We prefer 'common sense challenged.' I think Harry's won enough Quidditch trophies. He'd rather win a place in Snape's bed at this point!
corntey K: Are you suddenly into the Snupin? Have you ever read Of Cloaks and Daggers? I laughed so hard I cried. Seriously.
Sweet Mercy: Hee! And I've never been there. I want to go, though!
Eagle-Eyes: Yes, and thanks to my beta, my plot is slowly developing, too. Yay!
Sbyamibakura: I had no idea what the F&( you were talking about! I was all "…dog ears? WTF? Did I say something about ears? Maybe making a pig's ear? But that's NEXT chap?" Snort. All better now.
Snape's Nightie: It could drive a wedge, but there are other wedgies on the way!
Jenonymous: Isn't Harry fun when he's devious? It works so well on a cute young thing like that. And Snape would be a fantastic vehicle for grammatical rants! I can almost here him…
GryffRavHuffSlythendor: I'm sure someone will get around to admonishing Remus and Severus. If they find the time…there are, unfortunately, more pressing concerns!
Purplepaper: Remus is a swell bloke at heart—he's just misunderstood, poor baby. More Harry and Sev…well, actually…
BabeGia103: Remus is really stressed about the whole thing. He's quite worried about Harry, and if he knows men like I know men, he knows what trouble they are!
And the Laudable Lotrox: I'm tired, too! It's past midnight! Gah!