Author's Notes: Ugh, I've had the worst luck ever with my computer. I had to reinstall Vista, along with every other program I had, and this, apparently, deleted all of my files. It was long, it was tedious, and it made me want to chuck my laptop out the window. Anyways, here's chapter three.

Warnings: Slash and swearing. And yes, I do openly and proudly use the word bonkers to describe Harry Potter's mental state. This is supposed to be mildly comedic, after all.

Chapter Three: In Which Harry Potter Blackmails His Favorite and Least Favorite Teachers, Lupin and Snape, Respectively

Harry Potter liked to think he was persuasive.

"No."

But even he knew that he was being stupid when he made that claim.

"But you haven't even heard what I've got to say."

"But I already know that my answer will be no."

Harry, had he still been a child and thus highly immature, would have pouted in response to this, but instead he managed to keep his lower lip in check as he stared his determined professor down, "Can't you hear me out before shooting me down for once?"

Remus snorted and rolled his eyes, ignoring the way Harry scowled, and turned back to the pile of third year essays he was grading, "Harry, I have indulged you more times than I can count—," he began patronizingly as he reached to dip the tip of his ostrich quill in red ink , but Harry cut him off, peeved.

"Listen, Remus, I've tolerated your 'I'm so dangerous to everyone around me, I have to hole up every holiday and stay away from people so I don't accidently bite someone even though the full moon was a week ago and I'm being totally unreasonable' attitude for a long time."

Remus, who had begun to gawk half way through Harry's rather honest and remarkably detailed description of his behavior, snapped his mouth shut and dropped his gaze, "Harry—," he said, only to have Harry speak over him once again.

"Remus. All I'm asking is that you spend Christmas with me. I'm sure I can handle any mood swings you may or may not have."

A moment of silence followed this. Harry held his breath.

The werewolf lowered his quill and laced his fingers over the pile of parchment in front of him. He looked up at Harry calmly and for some reason, that he was quite sure had something to do with the old saying "the calm before the storm," the teen got a powerful sense of foreboding from his almost serene expression.

"Spend Christmas with you?" Remus echoed, smiling mildly. Harry's feeling of impending doom increased because, as well as this suddenly seemed to be going, it was simply too good to be true.

"Er…yes?" Harry replied, perhaps a little more awkwardly than he would have liked. Remus continued to smile, though there was this rather devious glint in his eyes that reminded him strongly of Snape when he was on the verge of giving out a detention. Or, Voldemort when he killed someone. Or, better yet, Ginny when she kicked Ron—

Well, where she kicked him where the sun don't shine, so to speak.

"That's funny," the professor said slowly, "because I distinctly remember being told that you were spending Christmas with the Dursleys."

Ah. That explained it. Harry fought the urge to smirk. Or kick something. Or both. Remus thought he was so smart, but he'd come prepared for this. Oh yes, the werewolf would be visiting Privet Drive, even if Harry had to drag him by his ankles up Aunt Petunia's perfectly manicured front walkway.

"Yes, I am," he replied cheerfully and, he could see it in the way the left eyebrow twitched, he'd caught Remus off guard with his open admission, "What's your point? You've met Aunt Petunia. And Sirius did mention that Uncle Vernon somehow got dragged to my parent's wedding."

"Yes but," Remus's eyes had grown rather round and Harry got the powerful impression that the man thought him completely unhinged. And perhaps he was, a little, but only because this whole 'world peace' thing was driving him utterly bonkers, "but that doesn't mean they want me in their house, Harry! And you can't just—!"

"I've already written Aunt Petunia," Harry cut him off, waving his hand carelessly and rolling his eyes a bit too dramatically, "She won't have a problem with it."

"You wrote Petunia?" Remus squeaked, openly looking at Harry as if he was mad. The Boy Who Stopped the Dark Lord and Was Now Bored nodded and grinned wickedly.

"So, you see, when she writes back and tells me she'd be delighted to have you, which she will," Remus twitched horribly then and Harry did an inner victory dance, "it will be positively rude to decline the invitation, especially since I've already told her you have no other plans."

Remus opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and stared. Harry had gotten him there, of course, because everyone, even the new ickle firsties who really hadn't gotten to know the teachers all that well yet, knew that Remus J. Lupin did not do rude. It was absolutely unheard of; the man prided himself on his impeccable manners and his undeniably charming manner. Never, in all his thirty eight years, had he ever—

"I'm still not so sure, Harry," Remus said slowly, avoiding eye contact in favor of staring at a crack in his desk that bore a remarkable resemblance to Luna's description of a knargle. Harry blinked.

Remus was more determined than originally thought.

Well, that only meant one thing.

"Remus, I didn't want to have to resort to this."

The werewolf's eyes snapped up and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the arms of his desk chair.

It was time to bring out the big guns. Or, in this particular case, wands.

"If you don't come to Privet Drive for Christmas," Harry paused here, of course, for dramatic effect. Remus sucked in a harsh breath.

There was a moment's pause. They stared each other down, one with gleeful determination, the other with obvious uncertainty and growing fear. Harry smiled in what he hoped was an innocent way.

"Well, then I'll just have to tell Snape that you're in love with him."

Remus's mouth opened again. And stayed open. Harry gave him a moment, but it was clear he had absolutely no words to comeback at that with. He did another inner victory dance, this one with more flourish and less jerkiness.

"So we understand each other then?" Remus continued to gawk and Harry continued to break it down within the confines of his skull, "Lovely. See you in class tomorrow."

And, before Remus could protest, or recover, or even close his mouth, the Boy Who Made Matches practically skipped out of his office, shutting the door tightly behind him.

--

Professor Severus Snape was in a rather good mood that evening.

Actually, it would be more accurate to say that he'd had a good day, which had in turn lead to his good mood, as Severus Snape never had random good moods. It'd begun with a rather flattering letter from Potions Monthly, telling him that his essay on the different types of Shrinking Solutions and the adverse affects on certain body parts had been absolutely brilliant, Professor Snape, no one has ever quite singled out the cause the way you have! He'd then gone to breakfast, where Lupin had been nowhere to be found, thus freeing Severus from the requirement of awkward and forced conversation and the omelets had been absolutely spectacular. Then, in his first hour class, a particularly insolent Gryffindor first year had melted three cauldrons in a way that could only be called intentional and he'd had the pleasure of giving him two months of detention for his troubles. But the cherry on the top of his wonderful day had been the fact that he hadn't had to deal with the Gryffindor seventh (or rather eighth, he still wasn't sure why Minerva had held back every single student a year. Some nonsense about the Carrows, but it wasn't as if they hadn't learned anything from the other teachers at the school, herself included) years and therefore hadn't been subjected to the sight of Harry Potter's disgustingly smug face.

Yes, it had been a wonderful day.

And, though the knock came to his door precisely when he'd been off to immerse himself in tea and a good book (contrary to popular belief, Severus did not torture people in his dungeon for pleasure on his nights off), it still didn't entirely ruin his decent state of mind. No, it wasn't until the door swung open at his grunt of, "Enter," that all good feelings evaporated, not unlike that Hufflepuff third year's pathetic attempt at an Invisibility Tonic.

The Boy Who Lived to Torment Severus Snape barged into his office, grinning this ridiculously stupid grin and looking as if he'd—

Well, Severus wasn't entirely sure what would make Potter look that insanely happy, though he had the distinct feeling he wouldn't want to know, even if the boy offered to tell him. Potter practically skipped across the space to his desk and proceeded to stand there in front of it, bouncing on the heels of his feet and practically simpering.

Farewell, good mood. You were nice while you lasted.

"What?" Severus snapped irritably and, though it had seemed impossible moments ago, the smile on Potter's face stretched so wide that it could only be painful at this point. The Potions Master stared at him with growing disbelief and paranoia; post-war Potter was moped around, he wandered the school looking for trouble, he was dull, bored, annoyed with the peace. He didn't skip into the dungeons grinning like a bloody maniac and looking as if he'd just buggered Miss Weasley or something equally disturbing and awful.

Severus swallowed. That had not been an image he wanted in his head.

"I have a proposition for you," Potter chirped. Had Severus been drinking his still steaming tea at that moment, he would have spit it out all over the boy's stupid, stupid face. However, disappointingly, he was not and therefore had to settle for a blank stare and perhaps the slightest quirk of an eyebrow.

Potter stared back for a moment before, to Severus's horror, snorting rather spectacularly, "Oh no," he gasped, "Not like that. Well, I mean—," he stopped, eyed the Potions Master rather oddly for a moment, and then continued, "I'm straight, Snape, sorry to burst your bubble."

Severus was quite sure he was having a rather nasty hallucination at this point. Because the real Potter wouldn't think for a second that he could accuse him of actually wanting to bugger him and then say something like sorry to burst your bubble when he revealed something that everyone had already been made privy to in that he was straight without being hexed or punched or a little of both. And normally, if the boy had actually gone insane enough to think that, Severus would have been on his feet and wringing his stupid, cocky little neck within seconds and as it was, he couldn't move at the moment, simply because he was in a state of complete and utter shock.

"Anyway," Potter shoved his hands in his pockets and appeared to turn sheepish, "I was wondering if you would be so kind as to join me at the Dursleys for Christmas dinner."

Wait.

What?

Christmas dinner?

Dursleys?

Potter?

What?

"What?"

Potter's irritating, I've-just-achieved-every-life-goal-I've-ever-had smirk was back. Severus couldn't remember the last time he had wanted to break someone's face this much. Perhaps it had been the last time he'd seen James Potter, though Sirius Black always did manage to stir feelings of intense violence in him.

"Oh, come on, Snape," the boy chirped in a rather disturbing, borderline mentally scarring way, "Everyone knows you're going to go hole up in Spinner's End for the holidays. And that's no fun. And Aunt Petunia would love to have you."

Now that was just a lie. Petunia hated him. And had often told him so when they were growing up, when she wasn't terrified he'd turn her into a warty, leaky toad. Which, truth be told, had been a very tempting idea.

"Don't be stupid, Potter," Severus hissed, trying to resist the urge to whip out his wand and turn Potter into his fantasy toad, "Get out of my office. Now."

Potter smiled demurely, "Now, Snape, you really didn't think I'd give this up that easily, did you?"

And then he reached into his robes and pulled out—

Severus's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Several nearby jars of things ranging from frog brains to weasel livers exploded. Potter looked entirely unconcerned as he waved the little bottle back and forth, back and forth, almost lazily.

"Remember this?"

That was a sick joke. This whole thing was a sick joke. What in the hell was Potter playing at?

Of course he remembered it. It bloody well was his, after all.

"Potter," Severus seethed, rising to his feet aggressively before he could stop himself. Potter lifted an eyebrow at him and slipped the memory filled bottle back into his robes.

"Oh no, Snape. You can't attack me, I'm your student," he pointed out and, much to Severus's horror, he was right. Any and all pardons he'd gotten from the Ministry would probably be lifted if he attacked a student. Especially if that student was Harry sodding Potter, "But if you want it back," he continued lightly and of course he wanted them back, they were his dying memories and how in the hell had he overlooked this? He'd just assumed Potter had had some form of respect and had left them in Dumbledore's Pensive.

…he probably should have checked on that.

Bugger.

"If you want them back," Potter smiled lightly, "then I guess you'll just have to come to the Dursleys, won't you? After all, I'm sure you wouldn't want oh, I don't know, the entire Gryffindor Common Room to see them?"

Severus's fingers were twisting almost painfully on the right arm of his chair and he had this wistful fantasy that he hadn't hesitated earlier and it was indeed Potter's stupid neck. Unfortunately, the real Potter was waiting patiently for him to say something in response and, as it was, he couldn't make himself go for his wand, lest he should lose the fleeting feeling of murdering Harry sodding Potter.

"You…" he grit out, "little…"

Potter grinned happily, "Excellent. I will see you at six o'clock on Christmas day then. And don't be late, Aunt Petunia hates that."

Then he skipped out.

Skipped.

Severus's left eyebrow had a rather extreme spasm in response to that.

--

So, I know, maybe both of them gave in too readily. But, well, Harry is threatening to reveal rather personal things about them. And they can't exactly attack him or hex him or oblivate them because he is the savior of the wizarding world. So, that's my excuse. Please, please review. Kthnks.