TITLE: Harry Potter and the Obligatory Sequel, Chapter Twenty
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Belongs to J.K. Rowling.
BETA: The Incredible Irisgirl12000, and all further mistakes are mine.
SUMMARY: Harry is a sneaky little brat, but Snape's not letting him get away with anything if he can help it.
The Answer Lies Within…Snape's Bedroom
"Okay…okay…I can do this. Under his pillow?" Harry demanded of Junior, holding him up so they could meet each other's eyes. "Are you sure? It's not possible it was some other book? I mean, I'd hate to go to all the trouble of breaking in there and then finding he's been sleeping with that dratted romance novel he confiscated from me last summer."
Junior tilted his head.
"That one…uh, that one has a picture on the front of a man with long dark hair. And, um, it was kind of dog-eared. Paperback. Er—I mean, it was smaller and had a floppy cover."
The snake nodded. "That one was on his bedside table," he said triumphantly. "He had many books about the place that he sleeps. I looked at several closely to be certain."
Harry's shoulders sagged. "Well, he couldn't make it easy, could he? I'm going to have to go in while he's teaching class. There's just no way I could get away with it if he were actually there. He reads my mind and figures out all the bad stuff I'm thinking."
Junior curled around Harry's wrist. "I would carry it for you, but it is much too large to fit in my mouth, eeen wheh I oo iis wi y awh."
Harry gave him a stern look. "What?"
The snake obediently re-hinged his jaws. "Even when I do 'this' with my mouth," he replied solemnly.
Harry had the sneaking suspicion that the snake was having fun with him, but didn't bother voicing the thought. "All right. Anyway, I can do this. I just have to get it done fast, so he doesn't have time to go meeting those damned Death Eaters. What is he thinking? Look, I'm going to put you in my pocket, and you can be my lookout, and—wait, you really aren't loud enough to warn me if you see someone coming, are you?" Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I think I need to ask for some help."
OoOoOoOoO
"Professor! Harry's got a headache. I think it's You Know Who," Ron hissed, leaning over her desk. The rest of the class was absorbed in their studies, attempting to Transfigure newts into knickers.
"Mister Potter?" McGonagall queried, and Harry came up, pressing his hand to his scar.
"I don't feel well," he admitted. It was the perfect truth. The idea of trying to break into Snape's chambers was making him so nervous that he was developing a stomach ache.
"Very well," the professor replied, her lips thin, but her eyes concerned. "Go on down to the hospital wing."
"I'd better take him," Ron said quickly.
"It helps the pain if I keep my eyes closed," Harry chimed, demonstrating, as Ron took him by the arm.
Hermione looked suspicious as they passed. If only she weren't so clever!
"Oh, crikey, Harry, I don't like this," Ron moaned, looking up and down the deserted hallway. "This is dangerous, this is. I'd rather visit Hagrid's petting zoo than break into Snape's bedroom."
"Shut up, Ron. And you won't be breaking into anything. You just stand here and yell if someone comes."
"Yell what, Harry? I mean, it'd look a bit funny, mate, if someone showed up and I just started shouting at someone who wasn't there."
"Do you want the cloak?" Harry asked, brandishing it. He'd planned on wearing it to help fool Snape's mirror and paintings, which would otherwise get a good look at him.
"Oh, yes, good idea, that. So there will be shouts from someone who isn't there, directed at someone who isn't present. Yes, Harry, that'll pull the wool over their eyes."
"Well, yell something like, 'Ow, my leg!' and then sink down on the floor. You can say you've got a cramp or something, and ask them to take you to the hospital wing, and that'll give me time to get away."
"Right. That's not bad. But, Harry…I really wish we'd done this earlier in the lesson."
"Ron, we had to wait until the class had really got started. I didn't want them all staring at me and thinking me pathetic for having to go the hospital wing yet again."
"Harry, I think the amount of negative attention would have been more than balanced out by the amount of time we'd have had to get the ruddy book!"
Harry blinked. "You sounded a bit like Hermione just now, what with the logic and everything. Don't do that again, okay? Gives me the creeps."
Ron laughed nervously as Harry pulled the cloak over his head. "Sure you'll be all right? I know Snape has traps and hexes in there waiting to go off on unwary intruders. He told us often enough last year."
"Yeah, yeah; I can get into the bedroom anyway."
"I didn't need to be reminded of that."
Harry just grinned, though Ron couldn't see it. "Later."
"Good luck, mate."
Dark at the best of times, Snape's rooms were now pitch black. Harry could still smell the intoxicating aroma of last night's scented sin, and he shuddered as he remembered Severus' lips trailing down his throat. That had been a fun night. He only wished he hadn't been so distracted, and could have sat back and really enjoyed himself.
"Ouch!" he grumbled. "Stupid table!" He'd bumped one of his shins against a hallway table, which had promptly bit him in return. He spent a few moments trying to shake it loose, knocking over the vase of poisonously green plants that sat atop it.
"Oi! Are you all right in there?" Ron's worried whisper asked. "Only you're making a racket."
"I'm fine," Harry told him sullenly, setting the vase upright and trying to get the plants back in it. They didn't want to go, and grabbed the rim of the container as well as Harry's sleeves. "Damn it! Impedimentia!" With the plant's reflexes slowed, he was able to tuck them away. "Stupid things," he added.
He made his way to the bedroom, keeping to the right side of the hall. He made sure to be especially quiet round the sharp-eyed portrait of some eighteenth century sea captain that Snape had hanging outside the den. Harry carefully removed the hexes on the bedroom door, and slipped inside.
Under the pillow. Harry carefully made his way to the bed, his hand slipping under the covers and feeling beneath Severus' pillow. Sev's head rests right here, he thought. His whole body spends every night touching these sheets. Lucky bastards. His fingers brushed against something solid and leathery, and he drew out the book.
Easy. He looked around, bent his head to Snape's bed, and inhaled deeply. I want to stay here, he mused. Curl up and wait for him, just like he wants me to do. I wonder what he'd think of that? It wasn't as though Harry didn't have the option. As long as he gave up the book, surely Snape would be pleased to find the boy waiting in his bed, not going looking for trouble.
Harry sank down onto the mattress, fingers dancing over the blankets. It was tempting. If only he sat back and let Snape take charge, he could just stay here and become a part of Snape's accessories. He rather liked the idea of giving up Harry Potter, and really liked the thought of giving up all that entailed. If he just let Severus take control, he could vegetate here, keep the bed warm, give up all pretence of responsibility and respectability.
And then Snape could take all the risks. And die.
With a light sigh, Harry got to his feet again. As much as he hated the job, he was the hero. Heroes kept people safe, and that was exactly what he intended to do.
OoOoOoOoO
Harry crept back out and cracked open the door. "All clear?" he whispered.
"Yeah, I—wait—oh, shit!" Ron exclaimed in a hushed voice.
Harry ducked back in, closing the door. A few moments later, Harry heard a muffled, unmistakeable, unexpected, sultry voice. "Weasley. What are you doing here?"
A long pause. Then—
"Oh! Oh, ow, my leg! I've got a really bad leg cramp, Professor! You'll have to carry me to the hospital wing!" Ron howled.
"Don't be ridiculous," Severus replied shortly. "I've a better cure than that: if you're not up off that floor and well away from my personal chambers in less than three seconds, I am going to curse you into a casserole."
"He's not going for it," Harry moaned softly at the crack of the door. "Try to get him to turn his back!"
"One. Two…" Snape counted with all the ominous-ness one could stuff into numbers.
"MOTHER OF GOD!" Ron screamed, pointing down the hall. As Snape turned, Ron shoved the door open and into Harry's nose.
"Ergh," Harry groaned. He slipped out as quickly as he could, shutting the door behind him.
"What was that?" Snape demanded, head whipping round.
"Nothing," Ron said, eyes as round and innocent as humanly possible. "You know me and my spontaneous, totally random exclamations. Just can't help myself."
"I see." Severus' eyes were dangerously shrewd. "Well, tonight you'll take detention with me, where you will emit a few other spontaneous exclamations, such as, 'Please, God, make it stop,' 'Oh, the pain, the agony,' and 'I'm never going to get these encrusted slugs out from under my fingernails.' See you at six, Mister Weasley."
"Yes, sir," Ron replied miserably. He turned to go.
"Oh, and Weasley?"
"Er, yeah?"
"Tell Mister Potter he may join us as well, for undoubtedly putting you up to whatever you were doing just now."
"But—but you can't prove—you don't know—" Ron spluttered.
Snape smiled thinly. "Perhaps not. But 'fair and impartial' is for Gryffindors, politicians, blatant liars and corrupt news sources, not for Potions Masters. Good day."
Ron sighed. "Yes, sir."
OoOoOoOoO
"Hermione! This is a matter of life and death! Severus' death! Dumbledore's death! And—and lots of other bad things, like Voldemort taking over the world! You have to help!" Harry pleaded. He looked around wildly as Ron waved his arms, trying to signal that Madam Pince was nearby.
"No," Hermione replied after the librarian had passed. "And if you'd told me in the beginning you were going to do something like that, I would have saved you the trouble of stealing the book."
"How?" Ron queried.
"By telling you it would be pointless, because I wouldn't help you make the potion!" Hermione retorted angrily.
"You made that other potion," Ron argued.
"That was before Snape had a look at the thing—in his right mind, at least—and told me how dangerous it was!"
"Why do you always have to do the right thing? Why do you always have to side with the teachers? Why can't you see what's important?" Harry ranted.
"I can! I do! I've helped you any number of times—against the rules, and against my own better judgment! But the potion you're looking at—I don't like it! It's…really invasive, and difficult. This is…one of the riskiest looking potions I've ever read of. Harry, it doesn't feel right. Call it women's intuition if you like."
"Fine," Harry retorted, slamming the book shut. "Fine. You know, you're not the only one who can make a potion." He stomped away as Madam Pince glared. He didn't need Hermione. He'd do it on his own.
OoOoOoOoO
"Tell him no," Harry could hear Blaise hiss.
Colin stiffened. "Harry…I…I—"
"He's a year behind us, anyway!" Blaise growled. "How much help could he possibly be?"
"Then why don't you lend some assistance?" Harry challenged.
"Absolutely not. You're an idiot, Potter, and I'm not getting dragged into whatever half-baked scheme you've come up with. Leave us out. Come on, Colin."
Colin looked from Harry to Blaise, then back to Harry, then back to Blaise, lip quivering.
"Colin—you don't have to listen to him!" Zabini said, gesticulated wildly.
"He doesn't have to listen to you, either," Harry said coldly.
"Colin…" Blaise stared at the boy.
Colin looked at his lap, swallowing.
"Fine," Zabini snarled, and got up to leave.
Colin looked up at Harry slowly, shaking his head. "Sorry, Harry," he said quietly.
Ron put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Why did you want his help, anyway?"
Harry blinked a bit. "I don't know. I don't know! All right? I just…you just get used to things. I mean, some things always happen, and you get to count on them happening," Harry tried to explain miserably. "Like how Hagrid always stands up for Dumbledore, and how Peeves is always rude, and the Dursleys are always wankers…well, Colin is always, you know…encouraging."
Ron gave Harry a knowing look. "Harry, you didn't have a bit of a thing for Colin, did you? I mean…all right, yeah, I'm pretty much used to Snape now, so it doesn't seem as scrotty as it used to, but…Colin Creevey? Why not pash with Mickey Mouse?"
Harry laughed a little. "Yeah. I mean, no. I didn't have a thing for Colin. I was just used to him, I guess. Maybe it's selfish, but it was always kind of nice that, even if I've been with Severus for a while, that other people still looked at me that way, you know?"
Ron shrugged. "I guess. Though the last time Luna Lovegood smiled at me in the hall, Hermione gave her a look that would have turned a lesser girl—or at least one actually paying attention—to stone. So as far as I'm concerned, I'd rather other girls didn't look at me that way, because it makes me ruddy nervous."
Harry's smile widened. "Snape looks like that sometimes, too. Isn't it funny, that we both—"
"Hello, Harry," Ginny said, smiling sweetly as she passed.
Harry wondered what was wrong. No tears? No womanly—or, at the moment—girlish fury of a woman scorned? No flirting?
"You know, Ginny's in advanced Potions this year," Ron noted.
Harry did a double take. "She is? Really? You think I should ask her for help?"
"Well, you know I'm crap at Potions."
"Right." Harry took to his heels and ran after Ginny, calling her name.
She turned and smiled brightly. "What's up, Harry?"
Harry really hoped the smile was genuine, and that she wasn't really about to hit him over the head with a schoolbook. He'd seen Hermione smile that nicely before, and he'd come to the conclusion that girls only ever smiled nicely when they wanted something, or were about to tear into you for something. "Um. Could you help me with something? The thing is…it has to be done quickly. Like tonight quickly. Please?" he asked as politely as he could, eyeing her stack of books warily. "I'm in a bit of a jam…you want me to carry these for you?"
She looked pleased. "Sure. You can tell me what you want on the way to class."
Harry was happy to render her semi-weaponless, although he was aware that she also carried a wand. After all, she was a Gryffindor, and not many Gryffindors would raise their wands against a man whose hands were full. It was a comforting thought.
"Ron says you're crackerjack in Potions this semester," he said.
"I'm ace. Why?"
Harry gulped, leaning down to explain his problem.
OoOoOoOoO
Severus swept through the halls, roasting any miscreants with his infamous glare. The periods of time when the exasperating monkeys were free to roam the halls were some of his least favourite times of day. This was, luckily, somewhat balanced out by his own freedom to scare the hell out of them as he saw fit, but still, the pleasure derived was somewhat hollow.
Especially when he saw things like Potter and the Weasley Wench traipsing about together.
Especially when the two young brats were practically arm in arm, and he was carrying her books.
Especially when Harry bent his head to whisper in the aggravating little tart's ear.
Severus' eyes narrowed. He would not be at all surprised to find Potter dabbling in heterosexuality; it was to be expected at his age, and he was likely angry that he hadn't gotten what he'd wanted from Snape the evening before. Still, it rather stung, and the boy ought to have at least had the sense to be discreet about it.
He plucked the boy out of circulation, yanking him away from the girl. "Mister Potter. A moment of your time, please?"
Harry looked helplessly from the repulsive redhead to Snape and then to the books in his arms. "Oh, blast. Ginny, I'm sorry, but I—"
"Don't worry, Harry," she said kindly. "I got the gist of it, and I'll help."
"Really?" Severus was manifestly unhappy with the way those green eyes lit up, and gave the boy a good whack across the back of the head.
"Ouch!"
"I thought I ought to tell you, in case Mister Weasley had not passed along the information, that you'll be spending the evening scrubbing cauldrons."
"Yes, I know, but—wait, can we do that tomorrow?"
"I'm otherwise occupied tomorrow, and I do not arrange detentions according to your busy social schedule, in any case," Snape ground out.
"Well, of course not, but I—"
"Don't worry, Harry," the bitch jumped in again cheerfully. "I can take care of things, even if Hermione won't help. I can get a few friends to help, and we'll have it ready for you in the morning."
The boy boggled. "You will? That's right nice of you, Ginny! Thanks! I should—"
"You should shut your mouth and get to your class," Snape snarled, and Ginny took back her books.
Harry smiled weakly as the girl winked at him and scurried away.
As far as Severus was concerned, the weekend was not going to be a good one. Even if he hadn't started off with any qualms about his upcoming meeting, beaming Weasleys and a simpering Potter seemed a grave, grave omen.