TITLE: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Eighteen
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.
BETA: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.
SUMMARY: Severus moves forward in his plans to win Harry back, and Harry's forming plans of his own…

Chapter Eighteen: Back to the Blackboard

As Harry made his way to Potions on Monday, he noticed Blaise and Colin were just ahead of him. They were holding hands. For some reason, this made his heart lurch just a little, in a not very pleasant way.

It just wasn't fair. Even if he worked everything out with Snape, and even if Snape suddenly relented and became the perfect lover, they'd never be allowed to walk around Hogwarts holding hands. Well, maybe if we were both teachers or something, he allowed, although I still think McGonagall would give us sour looks. Still, he could become a professor if he wanted to, and that thought made him a bit happier.

Blaise kissed Colin goodbye. Colin let him.

Harry tried not to get angry, and didn't even grab Colin's arm as he walked away, didn't warn him that Blaise was probably playing for the other team in a completely different sense these days, didn't…demand the boy remember how great Harry was. Wasn't this what Harry kind of wanted all along? Hadn't he been embarrassed by the way Colin had trailed after him, singing his praises?

As he sank into his seat, he tried to keep that in mind. He pointedly kept his face turned away from Blaise, who was wearing the most disgusting happy little smile.

Colin hadn't even said hi.

That rather hurt. Strange, how losing something he didn't even want still managed to make him feel rather wistful.

"Mister Potter, I am at the front of the class. Your attention should be on me, not on the happy little voices inside your head which are no doubt currently urging you into some further mischievous, nay, criminal enterprise."

"Huh?"

"Eyes on me. Ears tuned to me. Concentration, in fact, on me. Understood?"

A grin crept over Harry's face. "Yeah, I get it. Me, me, me. And you're always saying that I'm self-absorbed."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, home of the back-talking cheeky monkeys," Snape replied after a few moments of chewing his bottom lip in irritation.

"I'll have to let my 'voices' goad me into saving the world again so I can earn them back," Harry replied.

"Detention, Mister Potter."

Harry faked a sigh of suffering. "If you insist." Funny how turned around his life was, that he'd get so much satisfaction out of earning a detention. It had quite improved his morning.

OoOoOoOoO

The Order was supposed to be having a meeting, but things were more than a little unsettled. On arrival, Molly Weasley, Arthur in tow, went straight for Severus, mad as a wet cat. She was somehow under the impression he'd tried to molest two of her boys.

"Madam, I assure you, nothing on this earth would induce me to engage in sexual relations with either of your reprehensible, freckle-covered felons. It'd be less hazardous to bed a manticore, for one thing."

"My boys are both perfectly desirable young men!"

"They are not desired, my dear Mrs. Weasley, by me."

"That's enough," Minerva interrupted. "We have larger problems at hand." Her lips were tight as she looked at each of them. "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of this school and leader of the forces opposing Voldemort is missing. This is very serious indeed."

"How, exactly, do we want to handle this?" Kingsley asked, his face tense. "I don't think anyone else could possibly take charge of the Order. Even if we're making a decision regarding whether or not to attempt to rescue Dumbledore, I think it has to be…a majority decision," he said carefully.

Snape hid his surprise. McGonagall was Dumbledore's deputy in all things—and the Headmaster had fully expected her to do her best in his absence. That Shacklebolt would state—even obliquely— that he wouldn't recognize her seniority was both unexpected and alarming. Severus said nothing, preferring to watch the others and gauge their reactions.

"Well, it's true that we ought to discuss things," Arthur put forth rather carefully, "but we also must recognize that Minerva has the most difficult job ahead of her, and supporting her decisions just now is of utmost importance."

"I disagree," Kingsley said evenly. Minerva's back was very straight. "There are things even she was not made privy to, and I'm sure Dumbledore had his reasons for that. I think the most important thing is agreeing to hold our positions, at least in respect to what information is disseminated. We must be cautious."

There was a moment of silence as the rest of the room contemplated this wisdom.

"LOAD OF ROT!" Hagrid suddenly roared. Even Severus jumped a bit, his hair falling into his face. "Dumbledore's a great man, and he put Professor McGonagall up as his second-in-command fer a reason! If he trusts 'er, why shouldn' we? What yer sayin' is that yeh think one o' us could be a traitor. I say rubbish. I trust everyone in 'ere." Hagrid sat back in his chair, his eyes beady with ire as he glared at Kingsley.

"Actually, what Kingsley says makes a good deal of sense," Remus said apologetically. "It would probably be best if we worked with a great deal of discretion right now. After all, Dumbledore left no orders that Minerva needed to know everything. Perhaps he had his reasons."

"Dumbledore always had his reasons," Severus muttered. He was unsure if anyone heard him, because Arthur jumped in again right away.

"But I'm sure he trusted Professor McGonagall!" he exclaimed in a scandalized voice. "And I'm certain one of us ought to know everything that's going on. What if events were to…coalesce, or something of that nature? We need someone to know every facet in order to be able to plan effectively!"

"You would say that," Sturgis Podmore grumbled.

Molly bristled on Arthur's behalf. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean that, as far as making his own decisions goes, Arthur is unlikely to have any real experience," the man replied in a fractious voice.

A complete uproar ensued. Molly insisted tearfully that Arthur was as strong a decision-maker as any man, while Tonks defended them both, and called Sturgis a number of nasty but youthfully slangy—and therefore difficult to understand—names. "Enough of that!" Moody finally shouted, banging his wooden foot on the floor. "This won't solve anything, and it's this sort of behaviour that'll get us all killed! We can't be squabbling amongst ourselves; the enemy will be swift to take advantage!" he warned.

"I don't think Arthur is…'whipped,' as Tonks so colourfully described it," Kingsley announced. "I just don't feel comfortable putting Minerva at risk. And she would be at risk!"

"Perhaps it would be best if there were certain aspects of Albus' schemes on which I was left uninformed," McGonagall announced, her face pensive and troubled.

Snape looked her in the eye. "But how do you know whether you're being left out of something important if you lack the knowledge to make the decision?" he asked. Damned if you do, damned if you don't, he thought.

Everyone fell silent again.

"I shall…think on it," Minerva finally concluded.

Snape hoped she came to a different conclusion than he had.

OoOoOoOoO

Harry folded his arms behind his head, thinking. If only he had that potion right now. He was sure it was the answer to his problems. A potion that would allow him to follow Dumbledore, to trace him—but they were running out of time…

Sighing, he rubbed his face. Lupin said no way, and appropriated Twentye Rare Potions, so now Harry would never know if it worked. It had sounded so useful, too. He wondered if he should ask Snape about it—but no. Snape was totally against Harry doing anything that might end up hurting Harry. He sure wouldn't go for this sort of risk.

Harry wondered where Snape was, and what he was doing. He'd said he wanted Harry back. Remembering made his insides feel warm and tingly. And the way he kissed. God, the man had a talented tongue! It had been simultaneously titillating and terrifying. And it was going straight into Harry's memory wank-bank. At the same time…he was awfully sick of the lies. It was really hard being involved with someone so much older. Snape always had the upper hand, he always had control, and he always made the decisions. Harry was not crazy about letting someone else do all of those things. It was incredibly frustrating.

Even so…could Harry ever really picture himself with someone else? Sure, he'd had fun with Blaise last year, but that was just fooling around—and trying to make Snape jealous, he had to admit. He would never have seriously done anything with Blaise. He had made out with Draco Malfoy once, before Draco had been killed by Voldemort, and he often gave Colin a peck on the cheek, or let Hermione or Ginny hug him. But…none of it felt the same.

It felt weird when someone other than Severus held him. It felt…not right. He could, he supposed, go straight to Colin's dorm right now, and manipulate the boy into trying some really wild and kinky things. On some level, it would even be fun. Colin was cute, and the idea of sex without strings was appealing.

…But there was no such thing.

Sex meant giving something to someone. Sex meant really trusting someone. Sex meant being really, really intimate—if only physically—with someone else, and Harry couldn't imagine wanting that with anyone but Severus.

And he seriously hoped Severus felt the same way. It had really stung when he'd thought he caught Snape in a compromising position with Blaise. And even after he'd had a chance to think it over, and realize what the man was probably doing, there was an achy, mistrustful place inside, like his heart had been bruised.

Even if they weren't technically together, Harry couldn't imagine knowingly hurting Snape the same way. Not even in the name of revenge. A kiss on Colin's cheek was one thing, but being a part of another person—letting someone else in your body—that was something different. That was something…kind of precious, Harry reckoned. He wanted that with Snape.

And not with anyone else.

Snape had been with other people, it was true. It didn't feel real great to know he'd been with Lucius Malfoy, for one thing. But that was before Harry had arrived on the scene, right? Snape didn't know one day he'd meet a green-eyed stallion who would be his soul mate. So Harry had to deal with it. He didn't have to like it.

He was going to have to tread very carefully, here. He wanted Snape back, but the man was going to have to make a few changes. He had to see things Harry's way. Harry was a Gryffindor—he couldn't spend the rest of his life being bossed about. It wasn't in his nature!

Yet Harry wasn't keen on the idea of giving Snape the cold shoulder until he gave up. He needed to be taught a lesson…but he still had to belong to Harry, in the end.

Because they belonged together.

Feeling a bit better about his decision, even if he was uncertain how to put it into effect, Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face.

OoOoOoOoO

"Creevey, keep your hands to yourself. Potter is your classmate, not your security blanket." Colin, who'd been standing on his broom, trying to get a sense of balance up through his legs, clutched Harry tighter, while Blaise scowled from the stands.

Harry looked over his shoulder, startled. "What are you doing here? I'm trying to give Colin some extra…er…attention. Um. For Quidditch."

"You have detention with me. You're supposed to be in the dungeon," Snape replied haughtily.

"When did you decide that?"

"Now. It's my prerogative to give detentions when and how I see fit."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let me help Colin down," he said.

"I'll help the hapless little sod. You get moving." As Snape lifted the boy down, he turned to find a bristling Blaise behind him. "What's a piece of meat like you doing in a nice place like this?" he sneered. He could hear Colin gulp, and the Zabini-flavoured tart went red.

"Hang on a second!" Harry snapped. "Let's not have a meltdown here. Snape, put Colin down. Keep your cool, would you? And Blaise, I know you're protective of Colin, but no one was hurting him."

"He's not a hapless sod," Blaise grunted, crossing his arms.

Colin crossed to him quickly, taking his elbow and steering him away. Harry couldn't help but notice that there was a new constellation in the boy's eyes. And despite the fact that he'd been rather pale not a minute earlier, Colin's cheeks were now flushed. Heh. Love. Harry couldn't help but smirk cynically.

Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder and pulled him along. "You've a date with a chalkboard," he told Harry curtly. "I'm sure the two of you have missed each other; one hundred repetitions of my chosen line should get you reacquainted."

OoOoOoOoO

Snape couldn't help but wallow in the warmth of Potter's wide-eyed disbelief as he stared up at the blackboard in front of him. He watched the boy's perfect lips form I Belong to Professor Severus Snape, and He Belongs to Me.

"I'm writing this a hundred times?" Harry asked with a slight rising of an eyebrow. "What if one of the other teachers sees?"

"No one can see it except us, Mister Potter. It's a rather clever little charm, and one unlikely to be recognized even by Professor Flitwick. Get to work."

"Why are you making me do this?" Harry asked as he lifted the chalk, twirling it between his fingers.

"To remind you of something that you might have forgotten," Snape replied quietly, watching the boy's profile.

"…er. What?"

"That I love you, dim-witted drip. I've done everything but shout it from the rooftops recently—and thank Merlin Granger came up with a cure before I managed that. I told you how I felt some time ago, and assumed that my time with you was limited. It both was and it wasn't. I made it through that last little ordeal more or less unscathed but…" He turned away, curtain of dark hair hiding his face. "I was fortunate. I am fortunate. Such fortune is rare—almost unknown—to me. I intend to savour it."

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. "Severus Snape has a new lease on life and decides to show Harry Potter he's Mr. Right, huh? You know, it's going to take more than a few well-placed detentions to get me back."

Snape smiled at him. "Oh, yes. You really wouldn't be worth it, otherwise."

Harry gulped a bit when the man ran a hungry gaze down his body. "Y-you know, we could be doing better with our time together," he suggested.

"Absolutely. But I fear Minerva might have a heart attack if she caught me forcing you to do a strip-tease for your detention, so sadly you'll just have to do your lines."

Harry smacked a hand on his forehead. "Are you sure that potion isn't still affecting you? I meant that we could figure out some way of helping the Headmaster!"

Snape frowned. "You ought to leave that to the adults. You must realize that if Dumbledore has been kidnapped, it was likely to lure you to Voldemort. It's almost undoubtedly a trap."

"Yeah, I know, but you're still not—damn it, Snape! Listen to me! Even if—or especially if you don't want me rushing to conclusions, you ought to be willing to talk things over with me, and treat me like an equal!"

Severus thought this over. "I suppose it's possible that in this one instance, you may be correct," he allowed. "But I want your solemn oath that you will not go rushing out to save the man."

"You have it."

"Good." Snape took a seat at in one of the student's chairs and gestured toward the blackboard.

Harry turned and began doing his lines, pausing occasionally to look over his shoulder. "So…are you just going to sit there all night?"

"I feel I'm showing great restraint, considering you're still dressed," Snape replied. In reality, he'd planned on stating his position and allowing Harry time to think it over, while he contemplated the Dumbledore Dilemma, as he'd taken to calling it. He couldn't do much in his current position, especially since he was known to the Death Eaters as a traitor.

Still, there had to be something useful he could do…was this how Harry felt? The frustration was maddening.

"Hey!"

Snape started. "What?"

Harry was looking at him indignantly. "If you're just going to sit there, quit staring at my arse!"

Severus blinked. He probably had been, if only idly. He smirked at Harry. "Cheeky brat."

Harry threw the chalk at him.

"That's it! Detention tomorrow as well, you impudent whelp!"

"Fine! Now stop checking out my arse!"

OoOoOoOoO

Harry yawned, reaching for his glasses. What was he going to do with so many nights of detention? Between Snape's demands for attention, Quidditch, and trying to figure out a way to help Dumbledore, Harry hardly had time to breathe. He'd had nightmares all night, and a lovely little nugget from Voldemort somewhere round two in the morning. At the time, it had been horrible, but now he couldn't even remember it.

He slid out of bed, feeling guilty for neglecting his Occlumency, even though he'd really thought he might be able to dream of the Headmaster. Since he'd been so exhausted from having to write an extra hundred lines—"I WILL STOP TALKING ABOUT MY ARSE"—he'd fallen back asleep before he could write down what happened in his Voldemort-induced dream.

Damn. He had to get that potions book back—but how? Remus had confiscated it again, and had entrusted it to Snape, who for once was in complete agreement with the werewolf about precocious little buggers not getting their hands on it. Hermione had been disappointed, too, now that she knew how useful the book could be.

But…Snape had the book. Harry could visit the man anytime he liked, especially now that Snape was so intent on getting back on Harry's good side. If that were actually the case. Harry still wondered if the potion was completely out of Severus' brain—he was acting awfully strange. Still, it had to be worth a try.

It looked like Ron had already gone down to breakfast, so Harry hurriedly dressed and headed downstairs.

Hermione smiled broadly at him as he sat down. "What is it?" he asked, looking down to make sure his robes were right side out.

"Harry, I think Snape really is back to normal!" she gushed. "We accidentally bumped into him on our way down here!"

Harry felt a flutter of relief. "Really? What'd he do?"

Ron shrugged. "Oh, you know; gave us the look of death, cursed our progeny unto the tenth generation, turned into a bat and flew off. The usual."

Harry grinned. "Great!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "No offence, mate, but you're really nutters."

Hermione was still beaming. "He thinks we'll have progeny!" she exclaimed.

Ron looked pained. "Sometimes it's hard being the only normal one."

"Did he really say progeny?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "But he didn't turn into a bat."

"I think he probably knew that," Ron interjected. "Still, seeing how it's Harry, and Harry thinks the old bastard can do anything, it's probably better that you cleared that up."

Harry laughed, punching him in the arm. "Belt up, you!" Glancing up, he met Snape's eyes, and couldn't hold back a grin. The man gave him a dry smile and inclined his head slightly. He couldn't wait for detention to come. He was going to get that book—and he was going to enjoy doing it.

A/N:

Okay, I would really like to thank each of you individually as I usually do, but I seem to be suffering a horrible migraine. I've been having them lately, and it really hurts to look at the screen, so I'm a gonna post this and go close my eyes for a bit… Hopefully I'll be in better shape next post, yeah?