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Chapter Four: In Which Harry Potter Receives Some Good News and Some Absolutely Dreadful News
"So," Hermione said, lowering herself into the arm chair next to Harry's and lifting an eyebrow, "How'd your plans to blackmail Remus and Snape work out?"
Harry grinned evilly at her, "Brilliantly, my dear Hermione, absolutely brilliantly."
A look of mild surprise appeared on her face, "Really? I'd of thought you'd bugger it up," she brushed some imaginary crumbs off of her skirt and eyed him speculatively.
He frowned, "Really, your lack of faith in me is insulting."
Ginny appeared then and, instead of sitting on the loveseat beside Harry, as he expected her to (because this was what she always did, being a proper young lady and all), she shoved his Charms essay out of the way and perched herself on his left knee.
"Well?" she asked Hermione as she wound her fingers into Harry's hair. He blinked and looked up at her, feeling rather bewildered as her free hand began to play with the collar on his shirt. Hermione smiled weakly and reached into her robes.
"You win," she said evenly and handed Ginny what appeared to be a large bag of money.
Harry stared first at the bag, then at his best friend, and then at his girlfriend, who was grinning smugly and had begun to massage his scalp.
"You were taking bets on whether I succeeded or not?"
Ginny started toying with the top buttons of his shirt.
"Well, Harry," she said directly into his ear canal, "Hermione seemed to think you'd say something that would either A) make Remus invoke the I'm the last parental figure in your life and you'll do as I say card or B) push Snape into committing murder. Or worse, you'd trip on your way to one of their offices and get your head stuck in a suit of armor's waist line."
Harry frowned at Hermione again, "I'm hurt."
She shrugged, "Ginny only bet against me because she thinks you've had a psychotic break and that your behavior would frighten Remus and disturb Snape."
Ginny was petting his earlobe now. It felt rather good. But still, he was annoyed, so he dislodged her hand and scowled at her. She lifted an eyebrow, "I was right, wasn't I?"
Harry couldn't really argue with that, so when she swopped into to kiss him, he didn't protest.
--
Harry was making him paranoid. Because that is the only possible reason for why, when Severus entered the Staff Room that Thursday evening scowling dangerously and shooting murderous looks at anything that had the misfortune of moving, he spit out the tea he had been drinking so serenely moments before all over the pile of homework he'd been grading.
Minerva, who had been sitting across from him at the round table in the center of the room, fixed him in a look of deep concern while, flushing and fumbling and trying to avoid Severus's disdainful glare, he tugged out his wand and performed a quick cleansing charm, "Are you alright, Remus?" she asked, "You've been acting oddly all evening."
Of course he was acting oddly. The son (and godson) of his late, lunatic best friend (and even more insane other best friend) knew his deepest, darkest secret and was currently holding it over his head and demanding that he attend a holiday dinner that, in nine scenarios out of ten, would end in either something (most likely food) exploding (in a very fiery and spectacular—or horrifying, depending how you looked at it—way) or someone crying (most likely himself, in a corner, whilst hiding from Petunia's rage. Which would undoubtedly occur, when the psychopath that had possessed Harry Potter's body began his evil, evil reign of terror over number four, Privet Drive). Or both. He was leaning towards both. He smiled apologetically at Minerva.
"I'm fine," he said, in what he hoped was a tired, sympathy-inducing way, "wonderful, really. Just a bit tired."
Funny. That lie had sounded remarkably similar to the ones he had often had to tell due to the evil, evil acts James and Sirius had often committed in and around classrooms. Minerva seemed to sense it as well, probably because more often than not he had been lying to her back in the good old days, because she lifted an eyebrow. Remus figured his face took on a pleading look or something, though, because she didn't question him further and began to gather up her belongings.
"Well, perhaps you should turn in soon," she suggested, peering at him severely over her spectacles, "Really, Remus, you take too much on. You deserve some relaxation."
Severus made a noise from the armchair that he'd chosen to sit in, the position of which allowed the flickering fire to cast imposing and dark shadows of him over the walls, a noise that sounded like a snort that had been covered rather badly with a fake cough. Minerva shot him a dark look, which he returned with a blank one of his own, before she gathered her books in her arms and turned back to Remus.
"Have a good night," she said and, to his complete and utter horror, swept from the room.
Now, it wasn't as if he hadn't been alone with Severus before. He'd been alone with him loads of times, actually, due to the Wolfsbane, as well as at odd hours in the room they were currently occupying. But now, knowing that Harry, who—and he thought this with the greatest amount of affection—was just as ignorant to the workings of Remus's mind as his father had been, had figured out his feelings, there was this paranoid, insistent little voice in the back of his head that kept suggesting: perhaps Severus knows too.
And that would not be good, under any circumstances. Because Severus was quite obviously straight and in love with Lily. Stupid Lily.
No, he didn't mean that. Lily had been lovely.
Which was the problem.
Bugger. He must have finally hit rock bottom, thinking nasty, jealous thoughts about one of his dead best friends. He needed help. Or perhaps some alcohol or—or something mind-altering, at the very least.
Severus, who had pulled out a copy of the Evening Prophet and had buried his nose in it, shifted the paper loudly.
Remus sighed. His life had really gone to the dogs. Ugh.
"Stupid Sirius."
"What?"
Remus blinked and it took him a moment to realize he'd muttered his vicious thoughts aloud. Mortified, he turned to find Severus staring at him with something akin to annoyance, but appeared to be mixed with dread. He paused, swallowing back his hasty explanations under the odd look, and stared.
Severus returned his gaze for a long moment before speaking.
"Have you noticed anything—bizarre about Potter's behavior lately?" he asked slowly and, if the grimace on his face was any indication, with a rather grotesque aftertaste.
Absolutely. "Perhaps a bit." The boy was completely mad, inviting him to Christmas dinner at the Dursley's. What the bloody hell? "I think the peace may be getting to him. He doesn't like a dull life. He's like his father in that way."
Remus regretted the mention of James seconds after he said it. Severus's face contorted unpleasantly and he turned back to the fire.
"Well," he said nastily, staring fixedly in the direction opposite from where Remus was sitting, "If you see no cause for concern, being his substitute for a father and all," for some reason, the idea of being a parental figure to Harry did not sound at all pleasant when Severus was saying it, "then I suppose we should all just leave it then."
"W-well—," Remus choked, suddenly feeling completely inadequate and worse, pathetic, "I don't know about that—"
"Have an absolutely lovely evening, Lupin," Severus said sarcastically, speaking over him as he stood abruptly. Remus blinked and leaned back unconsciously as the Potions Master swept passed him to reach the door.
He slammed it behind him.
Remus turned back to the table and put his head in his hands.
--
"Harry," Ginny said as he attacked her neck, her tone suggesting that he should stop.
He grumbled against her skin, trying and failing to tickle her, before drawing backwards into a kneeling position at her feet. She straightened herself on his mattress and jerked her head in the direction of the window.
"Owl," she reiterated, looking just as annoyed as he felt at being interrupted mid-snog session. Harry turned to offer a death glare to the insolent beast and recognized it as the owl he'd sent to Privet Drive.
Snogging instantly forgotten, he lurched to his feet, literally squealing, "Aunt Petunia's reply!" Behind him, Ginny rolled her eyes audibly, but he ignored her and her bitterness at being ditched for a bird, throwing the latch and letting said bird into the dormitory. It fluttered a bit, and squawked so loudly it nearly destroyed Harry's ear drums, but flew away seconds after he'd freed the letter from its leg, demanding none of the treats he'd been seconds away from summoning for it.
He stared after it a moment, rubbing his abused left ear, which had been closest to the beak, before shrugging and turning to the letter.
Dear Harry,
I suppose, given that they helped save the world and all, that Professors Lupin and Snape should be allowed to share Christmas dinner with us. But Vernon and I would like to make it perfectly clear that they are to stay ONLY FOR DINNER and that the moment it ends, they are to GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE.
Other than that, the plans sound fine. We will see you at King's Cross next week. Have a good end of term.
Yours,
Aunt Petunia
Harry grinned. Ginny looked a mixture of surprised and impressed.
"Out of curiosity," she said, as he moved in again towards her neck and found his progress impeded by a hand on his forehead, "what exactly did you say to her to make her agree to this?"
Harry looked up at her forlornly.
"That, Ginny, is something I swore I'd take to my grave."
He then attacked her neck again, ignoring the quizzical look on her face.
--
Two hours later and thoroughly snogged, Harry lay on his back on his bed, feeling rightly pleased with himself. Operation Moony Needs a Snivellus was in full swing, despite his less-than-helpful posse (yes, he did refer to his friends as his posse, though he would never tell them that to their faces), he'd just had the best make out session of his life and Neville had just entered the dormitory looking dejected—
Wait.
One of those things did not belong.
"Neville?" he asked, sitting up to get a proper view of Neville's fallen face, "Is everything alright?"
"I can't get the mistletoe until Christmas Day."
For a moment, the Boy Who Concocted Brilliant Plans could not, for the life of him, remember what Neville was talking about. Then—
Oh.
"Bugger."
"I'm sorry," the other boy said quietly, wandering over to his bed, "I know I said I'd be able to get it for you quickly, but I—"
"No, it's fine," Harry cut him off, his wheels turning quickly, trying to find a way around this new and troubling development, "If you get it on Christmas Day you can just—just owl me. And I'll just—occupy Snape and Remus till then."
Neville shot him a look of pure horror.
"Occupy Snape?" he echoed weakly.
Harry set his jaw.
"Yeah," he said firmly, trying valiantly to ignore the feeling of impending doom that had taken up residence in his stomach, "I'm going to occupy Snape."
--
So, like, I'm not sure this is up to par with other chapters. I just sort of wrote it and decided that this was what needed to happen and, you know, maybe it's not all that humorous (or AS humorous as the other parts) but like, it's necessary. And for that I apologize, because I get the feeling that you're going to be disappointed. Please, please don't hate me for it. Also, review, because it inspires other chapters to be written and thus faster updates.