He was going to get the little shit back, but it didn't mean he had to watch him being happy without him.

*

Chapter 22

Harry sighed, allowing the hot spray of the shower to wash away the day's dirt and troubles. He stood under the water for a long while, contemplating the last week. It had been… empty. He'd thought it would have been fun; putting Severus through Hell, but it wasn't. Turning the man's robes bright yellow entertained the school for a few days, but he'd simply felt nothing. Severus hadn't taken it well. Every house suffered for those three days. Even Slytherin.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had jinxed the professor's skin to turn his clothes bright yellow as soon as he put them on. It was a nifty little spell they found in the Charms section. Hermione had chosen the colour. She thought it would give a bit of cheer to the man's life. Even if it wasn't his own.

He hadn't laughed as he thought he would when they shaved Draco Malfoy's head and eyebrows, covertly applying a salting charm, making sure it wouldn't grow back for a while. He'd laughed at the idea of it, when plotting with Ron and Hermione, but when they actually executed their plan, he'd felt… nothing. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that they'd planned it before Severus had dumped him and carried it out afterwards.

Malfoy had been absolutely livid. He'd screeched at Madame Pomfrey to do something about it until he was red in the face. Unfortunately for him, she was unable to help. The salting charm had nullified every potion she had and any spell she thought of. The matron, however, didn't seem to regret it. Harry was sure he'd seen her smirking as Malfoy left the Hospital Wing. He'd, of course, been strolling by at the time.

The last three days had been eventful as well. He'd persuaded Dobby to switch Severus' shampoo again. This time, it was just normal shampoo. But it had a strong smell of strawberries. Everywhere the Potions Master went, the smell of artificial strawberries followed him. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. But, as he didn't really have the proof that someone had messed with him once more, he settled for assigning a two-foot essay for the weekend homework, in each class. Harry had seen Severus glance at him from the Head Table a few times during the week. Once had been after he'd heard Dumbledore compliment Severus on the "delightful smelling product" and wondered if Severus could direct him where to purchase a bottle or two.

However, on the Friday evening, Dumbledore hadn't been so jovial. The Prank Masters had decided he was a choice target for another prank… amongst others. They loved their headmaster dearly, but it was just too much fun pulling one over on him.

At dinner that night, they'd requested the House Elves serve the headmaster's favourite dessert – lemon sherbert pie. With the help of the crafty little kitchen-dwellers, they'd jinxed the pie to affect the consumer with… unsavoury outcomes. Depending on who ate it, the affect would be different.

Dumbledore had been sent running from that hall, holding his bottom, as the laxatives kicked in. McGonagall had started hiccupping bubbles, while Flitwick had been turned into a frog. As Severus hadn't a taste for lemon sherbert pie, he'd decided to go with the vanilla ice cream. Alas, for him, the confection had also been spelled. He began singing litanies of old, serenading the rest of the staff with his beautifully deep voice, yet still managing to have his most vicious glare in place the entire time. As frightening as he looked, the events of the evening were too much. The Hall erupted with the students' laughter as their teachers were subjected to the most hilarious torture they'd ever seen.

It barely brought a smile to Harry's face.

All he could think about was how miserable he was without Severus.

*

Severus viciously marked the paper in front of him with blood-red ink. The essay wasn't the worst he'd ever been forced to read, but it was far from the best. The dunderhead had listed five ingredients of the Laughing Draught, when there were only four… one being used in two different ways, under two different names did not count. It was still the same damn plant! He marked it with an A. As much as he wished he could give the idiot a T, it wasn't as bad as that. Little bastard probably cheated from his classmate…

He sighed, leaning back in his desk chair, rubbing his tired eyes. He was miserable. The past week had been torture. Especially when he'd suddenly burst into song in front of the whole school. He was never eating ice cream again.

He didn't mind the shampoo. It was rather nice, he thought. He liked the smell of strawberries. The problem, however, was that only one other person knew of his preference. Harry Potter. The little turd was teasing him. As wonderful as the product was, he was loathe to use it for the fact that Potter had provided it. The sweet-smelling potion had made his hair shiny and silky, curing his problem with greasy locks. It gave him a softer appearance, making a few students pause and double-take as he passed. Whenever he came across someone doing this, they lost points and gained detentions. He was not in a good mood.

His robes had returned to black, thankfully. He'd figured out the jinx his ex-lover had used and countered it before he had to endure another day of that sunny Hell.

He'd been trying to come up with some kind of plan to win back Harry for the past seven days. As soon as he came up with an idea, he discarded it, reasoning it wasn't good enough for the love of his life. He would have to try harder.

He only wanted this to end. He knew his mistake. Fuck, he'd had a nightmare or two about it. He'd run away like a coward when Harry had proclaimed his love, scared to let himself believe it was true. He didn't want to build his hopes up only to have them shattered. Pushing his dismal thoughts aside for now, he grabbed the next essay. It was Granger's. Her name at the bottom of the page brought back her words from earlier in the week.

"He really likes you, sir." At his confused look, she continued. "Whenever I'm with him, just him, he's always talking about you. How wonderful you are, how handsome you are, how much he loves to tease you because you're a "grumpy old bastard" – I quote…" she looked a little embarrassed at that, but kept his gaze evenly. "He loves you, sir."

Damnit, but the know-it-all was right. As usual, he added, rolling his eyes. Sighing, he stood up, leaving her paper on his desk. He had a plan to… plan. Growling at his inability to even think eloquently as of late, he stormed to his rooms.

Grabbing a clean piece of parchment, his old black-swan-feather quill, and his cheap, black ink, Severus sat at his personal desk, still thinking upon what he wanted to say. Letting his gaze settle on the low flames in his fireplace, an idea struck him, pushing him to put quill to parchment.

*

Harry was aware that Hermione was looking at him. He was aware that she was worried about him. He was just waiting for the words to spill from her lips. He knew they would. They always did.

"Harry!" He looked up at her from his position on the old desk. They were in their favourite old classroom; the room the Prank Masters came up with their ideas. "What's wrong? You've been moping around for days now. You couldn't stop laughing when you first came up with the prank for Malfoy's hair and when we actually did it, you didn't even smile! Tell me what's wrong!" She glared at him, crossing her arms. Sighing, he fiddled with the sleeve of his school jumper, not sure where to start. "Well?" She huffed, coming to sit beside him. He sighed again, giving her a weak glare before starting.

"Severus and I broke up." There. That should do it.

"And?" Or not.

"And… that's it."

"But… why?"

"Well… he…" he blushed, not sure if he really wanted to share everything with his best friend. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, quietly encouraging him to continue. "I… told him I love him," he paused, feeling foolish for saying things like this aloud. "And he… bolted." His breath hitched as he finally looked back at that moment. "He… he just left! He said 'I need to think' and left!" He angrily wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks. He was so angry. So hurt. He wanted to punch something. Someone.

"Harry… I'm sorry," she wrapped her arms around him, trying to comfort him as much as possible. "If… if it helps any… I saw him on Saturday. He looked kind of… lost. He thought I was trying to blackmail him, too!" She barely held back a smile at that. It was kind of amusing. "I told him how much you love him. I didn't know he'd just left you. I'm sorry, Harry." He just sniffled and nodded.

"But what should I do? I want him back! But… he used me. How can I make him love me?" He looked pleadingly into her eyes, hoping she had some kind of solution. She should! Damnit, she was Hermione Granger! She had the answer to everything!

"I don't know. You can't make someone love you. You just… hope. I mean, unless you used a love potion – and if you do, I will hex your balls off!" She mock-glared at him, as though daring him to test her.

"I won't. Promise." He gave a watery grin.

"Good. I don't know how you could win him back… but I don't think you have to. It seems like he's the one who needs to win you."

He'd not thought about that. After all… it was Severus who'd run out on him. Severus was the one to break his heart. So… why not make the man beg and grovel? Why not make him suffer a bit?

*

Severus had finally finished his letter. It was his seventh draft and third quill, but he was finally satisfied with it. He dried the ink, reading over it once more.

I love you.

There. That should do it. He hoped.

**

It was just after Harry and Hermione had returned from the Prank Masters' HQ, that Ron stumbled through the portrait hole. He didn't look happy.

"Bloody old hag…" he mumbled, sitting down next to Hermione on the couch before the fire.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked, not looking up from her book.

"Ruddy McGonagall is what. She's evil, I tell you!" He scowled when Hermione waved his claims away, continuing with her reading. "She is! She made me practice my Transfiguration! For three hours!" He crossed his arms, sulkingly turning to Harry for support. "Harry! You're on my side, right?"

"Not at all," he grinned, loving watching his friend suffer. "You earned it. You should know not to mutter in her class. She has excellent hearing." Laughing, he ducked a throw-pillow aimed at his head. "They're not really for throwing, you know," he frowned, stuffing it behind him on the chair.

"You two are bastards. I'm going to bed," he sulked.

"Good night," they chorused behind him.

"Whatever," he mumbled, making his way to the dormitory.

Once he was gone, Harry took Ron's seat next to Hermione. "Well?" he asked, poking her arm.

"Ow! What?" She poked him back, rubbing her arm.

"Ow!" he grinned, rubbing his chest. "I want to know what you've come up with!" He reclined, his arms spread along the back of the couch.

"You seem a lot more cheerful… just ten minutes ago, you were crying." She looked at him sceptically, searching for any sign of hidden despair.

"Look what I got," he held up a crumpled piece of parchment. "It came in just before Ron."

"What is it?" She grabbed it from him, careful not to tear it. As soon as she read it, her face lit up. "Oh! Harry! That's wonderful! What're you going to do?"

"Make him beg," was all he said, grinning evilly.

**

It was another two days before Harry decided to acknowledge Severus' attempt at reconciliation. He'd decided to let the man stew for a while. Smirking at the irony of Severus being the one to stew, he made his way to breakfast that Sunday morning, relishing the quiet of the sleeping school. He'd woken early to enjoy some time to himself for a while, wanting to take in the crisp morning air, the sunrise, the first scoop of porridge.

As he sat at the end of Gryffindor table, he noticed he wasn't the only one awake so early. There were a few Ravenclaws and Slytherins, a couple of teachers and… Severus. Moron. He is a teacher… Harry pulled a face at his brain's failure to think of Severus as anything less than the love of his life.

He looked up, catching the man's eye. The look he was given sent shivers down his spine. It was so full of love and regret and loneliness that his breath hitched, making him spill his spoonful of porridge down the front of his clothes. Smooth, Potter, he thought, wiping off the mush, flushing with embarrassment.

*

Severus looked up from his tea only to lock gazes with a one Mr Harry Potter. He felt so lonely without the boy. He wanted him back. He'd written the blasted letter two days ago. He knew it wasn't much… but it was all he had. He'd never felt this way before! He didn't know what to do! He knew he'd been an arse, but surely the boy would forgive him?

When Harry spilled his porridge down his front, Severus allowed himself a small smirk. As much as he was trying to win the kid back, he still took some enjoyment in seeing him squirm. The little bastard had played quite a few pranks this past week, and Severus had been the victim of a couple. So, he took the spill as Fate's way of giving him some slack. And he loved it. For once, it wasn't him!

The blush on Harry's cheeks was just so tempting… so beautiful… so arousing. He wished he could kiss those cheeks, feeling the warmth of the blush under his lips, his hands. He wished he could cause it again… but in more private surroundings… performing less-innocent deeds.

He found his mind running away, into his new fantasy, just in time. He was beginning to become aroused, imagining Harry's cheeks flushed for a different reason… imagining the young man bent over his place at Gryffindor table, one hand in his bowl of porridge, the other slipping in the butter dish, as Severus pounded him from behind, holding his head up with a fist in his hair, keeping him from drowning in the milk jug. He could practically hear the clinking of the utensils… the gold-gilt crockery… as they fucked against the hard table, bruising Harry's hips and Severus' thighs as they continued on in their own rhythm…

"Ahem," he was startled out of his thoughts by a polite cough next to him.

"Yes?" He snapped at the Headmaster.

"Severus, my dear boy, you look a little flushed. Are you feeling alright?" He looked concernedly into Severus' eyes, innocent to the naughty thoughts that had been floating around only seconds before.

"I… I think I will go to my chambers, Albus… excuse me," he pushed away from the table, giving silent thanks for his large, concealing robes, before stealing one more glance at Harry.

Once more, they made eye contact. Without thinking, Severus gave a slight tilt of his head, indicating Harry should follow. To his surprise – and delight – the boy smiled, laying down his spoon.

***

AN: I know, I'm reeeeally late! I'm sorry. This eeked its way out of my brain at a bad time. Lots of real life crap came up. But I hope you're all still interested in this story! You can yell at me in reviews… ;)