AN: This was probably the hardest chapter I've ever had to write. Everything after this felt like it would come easily, but Prussia getting back at England was hard. This part though was planned since the story started, which might have something to do with it. The original plot and what it's become are pretty different. Anyway it would have been longer if I'd went the way I planned, but that felt awkward, so I just went ahead with this to help me get back into the habit of writing this story. England-Prussia conversation is next chapter and some more on Canada/America's condition. Plus Hong Kong and one of my favorite completely pure crack pairings IceKong.

AN 2: Zimsterne is a type of German cookie. Its cinnamon flavored and covered in icing.

AN 3: A severe delayed thinks to Brotmesseresser who corrected my German back in Chapter Two. I was just looking back through it and realized I hadn't fixed it. Thanks for the help! It should be fixed now.

Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Chapter Ten

Having tea with a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, especially with their legacy of attempted murder, was strange for Harry. True, Professor Lupin was great and his favorite teacher, but it was still surreal and Harry probably wouldn't have agreed to it if not for the Grindylow. And the biscuits. Harry couldn't forget the biscuits. Teenagers would do amazing things for curiosity and food.

"Another zimsterne?" Gilbert asked offering Harry the tray filled with the icing covered star shaped treats. Harry nodded taking one, rather proud he didn't blush as much as usually when Gilbert's bright red eyes focused on his face. Looking a little amused Gilbert offered the others the plate. Lupin took two looking as if he unsure about how exactly he'd wound up in this situation. Harry could sympathize.

Snape declined with a glare that made the albino grin, but did accept Lupin's offer for a refill of his tea. Lupin attempted to hide his pleased expression at the grudging "thank you" he received in reply, ducking his head to disguise the small smile at the barely civil words. Harry supposed they really were quite an accomplishment when you took into account that most everyone thought Snape was honestly plotting the man's murder before Gilbert focused his attentions on him.

Nibbling the German treat Harry allowed himself to consider the fact that he was having tea and biscuits with the strangest group imaginable. His least favorite teacher who in all likelihood would believe the world would be better off if Harry were to mysteriously vanish was to his right, drinking his tea with a scowling face. Harry sometimes wondered what would happen if he introduced Snape to the Dursleys. He'd come to the conclusion they'd either hit it off, bonding over their mutual hatred, or kill each other. He was only torn about who would be able to kill the other first. Snape with a wand or Aunt Petunia with her deadly frying pan and broom combo? Next was his much too old for him maybe, sort of, crush, whom Harry had only recently admitted to himself that he liked. Gilbert was in all likelihood completely bonkers and sat on the other side of the Potions professor. Though Harry supposed Gilbert was more like Lockhart than Quirrel in the insanity department. Harry had recently began to feel a bit of sympathy for Hermione sense he had admitted his crush (miniscule as it was) to his very own self-absorbed, incredibly handsome egomaniac. Harry couldn't help but defend his (barely there) crush's existence by the fact that at least Gilbert wasn't all talk, Hermione had admitted he was quite intelligent and hardworking when it came to teaching and he was clearly a strong wizard to be able to sneak into Hogwarts. Then there was Lupin, his sickly Defense teacher who, for the time being, did not seem to be actively trying to kill him, sitting across from Harry looking contemplative as he went for a third biscuit.

He found it less strange than he thought he would, which was in itself probably should have been more worrying than it was. Harry was starting to wonder if Hogwarts was affected your perception of normal.

"So, poker?" Gilbert finally suggested the silence seeming to become too much for him. Harry blinked and realized Gilbert looked bored. Which in their Potions class had always lead to tangents on obscure spells (Hermione always died a little inside from the pure joy of it when the albino started talking), Snape in various forms of lingerie (which should have been more disturbing than it was, but Snape's expressions made it worth the disturbing factor), rants about Russia and Prussia (Ron had learned the hard way never to mix up the two in Gilbert's presence), or various other strange topics.

"What?" Lupin asked knocked out of what appeared to have been deep thoughts.

"Poker." Gilbert repeated and drew a deck of cards from his pocket, giving Lupin a look that suggested the question was very stupid and that he was humoring him.

"No." Snape said firmly, sipping his tea after he spoke and giving Gilbert a menacing glare that only drew an amused expression from the albino and his characteristic hissing laugh.

"Kid?" Gilbert questioned, giving Harry his signature smirk-grin. Harry's heart did that painful little happy flip and his face instantly began heating.

"S-Sure." He agreed cursing himself for stuttering and for acting like a blushing school girl around Snape of all people. He didn't think Lupin with do anything, but if Snape found out about his unfortunate crush…Harry could only shudder at the humiliation Snape would inflict upon him. Looking down Harry quickly began drinking his tea, allowing his bangs to fall forward and praying none of the men saw how red his face no doubt was.

"See the kid wants to and we can't just let the poor thing be alone when all his friends left him for the village and its goodies now can we?" Gilbert said, not mocking, but definitely teasing. Harry tried not to flinch at the reminder that he was the only third year not currently exploring Hogsmeade.

"Well," Lupin began, making Harry look up, face feeling less hot, to find the man looking sympathetic and kind. "I suppose one game wouldn't hurt."

Gilbert slapped him on the shoulder laughing somewhat obnoxiously. Though Harry felt it was still more attractive than any laugh had the right to be, which made him equally parts embarrassed and not caring. Gilbert turned to give Snape a sly look.

"No." the man reiterated, black eyes glaring full force, face hostile.

Gilbert didn't flinch. "Now Sev do it for the children.~"

"No." Snape said through clenched teeth. "I don't like the children. And do not call me Sev or any other of your ridiculous nicknames Beilschmidt."

Gilbert cocked his head to the side, silent and considering, eyes examining Snape carefully.

"Then how about we make this interesting. You win and I leave you alone for a week."

"A month."

"Don't be greedy, you're already getting a week off because of our deal. Two weeks"

"Two months."

"A month and a half."

"Done."

. . .

England had learned, though not always heeded the lesson, that nothing good ever came out of his getting black out drunk. And it had been clear from his pounding head this morning that he'd gone well past the point of sobbing out his life story to the point of doing something utterly stupid. He really should know better by now. His not heeding this had led to some of the most humiliating and infuriating events of his long life.

In Tortuga during the Golden Age of Piracy (When Spain and he had been having a pissing contest that rivaled the defeat of the Spanish Armada.) his brothers had taken him drinking for his birthday and, with Scotland's encouragement, England had drank well passed his normal limits, which had been considerably larger in the past. The next morning he'd woken up in a dress and married to his worst enemy. It hadn't taken long to get the vows reversed and he and Spain had never spoken of it again. Ever. To anyone. Scotland, the bastard, still denied any involvement in the incident just as he had when England had confronted him later that day and had barely been prevented from impaling him on his cutlass by Portugal, while the rest of his brothers had laughed at England's appearance and Scotland's predicament. England having immediately gone there instead of changing back into his regular clothing had been pinning his brother to the mast head with the cutlass in nothing but a rather short green dress. The crest of the crew hadn't been able to look him in the eyes (With the exception of the nations) for months afterwards, though Portugal had appreciated the dress, claiming she'd been losing touch with her femininity with only the male clothes England had allowed her when she'd agreed to become his Second Mate. Even England could admit it looked good on her, though it did lead to her teasing him about the dress matching his eyes. Something Luisa had yet to drop to this very day.

Another incident had taken place more recently, during his Punk phase. After getting completely black out drunk with France, who he'd only agreed to go drinking alone with him because he was already halfway drunk to begin with, he'd spent the entire night with the Frenchman. He'd woken up in nothing but his underwear with a tattoo and a completely naked France sound asleep in his bath tub. The tattoo he liked. The naked France trying to molest him when all he'd wanted was a shower and painkillers, not so much.

Then there was the incident with Norway. Barely over a year ago Norway and he had been drinking by themselves; Romania hadn't been able to make it, after successfully completing an experiment at their Magic Meetings. Things had gotten out of hand when England, feeling very proud of himself, had started to lose counts of the drinks that he was having. He had comforted himself with the fact that Norway was a respectable nation he was on pleasant terms with who wouldn't take advantage of him, unlike some more perverted or manipulative nations he knew, and besides if Norway was paying who was England to deny his generosity. England had quickly learned that was a naïve and foolish judgment call. He'd quickly discovered the note and pensive ready memory in a vial waiting for him the next morning next to a still warm breakfast and a Hangover Potion. The note had explained that Norway had liberated some of England's rarer and more powerful Grimoires with England's permission of course. England had checked the memory to find that yes, damn it all, he had agreed to it and because of some tricky magic that had been placed on the Grimoires he couldn't go back on his agreement. Lukas always had been a crafty one and he had been eying those books for well over the past two centuries, but England hadn't realized he'd possessed the nerve to trick him.

But nothing England had ever suffered through because of some drunken mistake could compare to this. Prussia was a dead man when England got his hands on him. Now if only he could find him without anyone seeing him.

Looking around the halls, alert for the sounds of any approaching Hogwarts inhabitants, England skirted around the corner considering where to go. England had learned Prussia's schedule, which was surprisingly organized, in an attempt to avoid him and knew that he helped Professor Burbage by preparing the room while the woman had her free period to grade assignments and eat breakfast. England had been halfway there before he realized that today was the Hogsmeade trip, meaning Prussia could be anywhere in Hogwarts or at the village "chaperoning". After cursing Prussia to the darkest pits of hell, England had turned around and now he was going through a list of places to check.

The top of which was the Potions Lab, but Prussia wasn't an idiot, despite how he sometimes acted. He would know England was looking for him. The library was definitely an option, plenty big enough to hide for months in. And Hogsmeade, crowded as it currently was, would be ideal. Especially since Prussia no doubt realized England would be avoiding populated areas until this mistake was corrected to minimize exposure. Feeling paranoid, England adjusted his hat to make sure no strands had slipped out. Glancing down at his baggy clothes he wondered whether immediate revenge was worth the potential embarrassment. The clothes covered rather well, but if someone looked close enough they'd notice some very key differences. Besides the thought of Prussia getting away with this made him want to destroy something.

Then he realized exactly how he could find the Prussian.

Smirking to himself triumphantly, England withdrew his wand and spoke. "Point me, Prussia."

. . .

Harry Potter was surprisingly good at poker. Prussia hadn't seen that coming. Not with what Prussia had seen so far. The kid was easy to read. His crush on Prussia was pretty plainly written in every stutter, sideways glance, and blush that lit up the kid's face. All you needed to do to understand exactly what was going through the kid's mind was to look in those big green eyes of his. But damn did he have a poker face. And his luck was nothing to sneeze at. True he'd lost the first few hands when they'd started teaching him, but now he was steadily catching up to Snape. The man seemed almost impressed by the fact, but was trying to hide it.

It was pretty easy for Prussia to see though, just like the giant soft spot the man had for the kid under all the bitterness and hate that he had going on. Prussia saw how the man's eyes would soften when he saw the boy do something kind or surprising, but then he would catch himself and the negative emotions would swirl back up. Prussia had a good idea what, or rather, whom exactly the man thought of when he should his gentler emotions towards the boy. Looking away before the man could catch him staring (Snape seemed to always know when someone was watching him) and assuming Prussia was plotting something (He was of course, but Snape didn't need to know that.), Prussia looked at Lupin.

The man was a slightly better than average player, but his luck was inconsistent and he paled in comparison to even Harry's quickly developing skill. He was hardly a contender for winning, but he had managed to stay in though that might have been from a pure twist of fate. Prussia had dismissed him pretty early in and he didn't show any signs of winning anytime soon as he placidly sipped his tea, looking over his cards mildly, before his eyes darted towards the clock on his wall.

"I think this should be the last hand." Lupin interjected lightly, looking back at them. "It's almost time for lunch."

Harry looked surprised, the careful blank expression he'd had the entire game disappearing, but coming back in an instant. He quickly got back in the game and made his move. The kid raised.

Snape's expression was hooded, but Prussia saw the slightest expression of triumph in the brief twitch of his lips.

Prussia almost grinned. Instead he went all in. There was some hesitation before they all copied, even Lupin, who was looking pretty amused about how serious they were all being as they placed the cinnamon biscuits in the center of the man's desk.

"Full House." Harry said with a small smile.

Snape sneered and laid his hand down. Harry's face fell at the sight of Four of a Kind.

"Good." Prussia admitted, smirking to himself. "But not awesome. Straight Flush."

Snape looked ready to growl at the sight of all the little hearts. Prussia laughed at the man's displeasure reaching forward to snatch a zimsterne off the top of pile only to have Lupin give a little clearing of his throat and sweet, tiny smile. He laid down his cards.

A Royal Flush.

Well, fuck.

"Sorry Gilbert, but the biscuits are mine." Lupin said eyes mischievous and voice teasing.

Lupin barely had time to collect his winnings when the door was thrown open. Prussia turned to find a fuming England in his old uniform, which was sufficiently baggy to hide his new assets, and his hair put up in a hat. Prussia smirked. How predictable. Beside him Snape surreptitiously drew a camera from his robes, keeping it out of England's view. Not that he would have noticed, he only had eyes for Prussia at the moment, green eyes promising murder.

"Took you long enough Eyebrows." Prussia allowed his hand to rest on the wand concealed in his sleeve, not withdrawing it, but touching the smooth wood. He muttered an activation charm under his breath.

"I will kill you." England said fiercely, eyes dark with promise.

Prussia gave him his own personal mocking smirk guaranteed to piss off the receiver no matter how cool headed the person. Before England could curse him or act on the promise of violence on his face Prussia's charm activated.

England went pale with horror and then went instantly into full on Pirate Captain Mode throwing himself at Prussia with a snarl pulling the albino to his feet by the collar of his shirt. Lupin made a strangled noise in surprise, Harry gasped, and barely audible from the direction Snape sat Prussia heard a small click, quickly followed by a series of them. Beaming on the inside, knowing he would have the ultimate black mail material for years to come. Prussia met England's rage with a dismissive smirk. Even if England did beat the shit out of him, which Prussia didn't think the admittedly strong short nation could, but if he did it would be well worth it.

"Or should I say Miss Eyebrows."

England gave a snarl, her long blonde hair falling in a wild mess now that the hat was gone, replaced with a headband, and her surprisingly full chest heaving against the sweetheart neckline of what was now a white lace dress, complete with matching white pumps. England paused though seeming to finally note the others in the room. Her face instantly went cold hiding the rage Prussia knew was boiling underneath the cold shell.

"I'll be taking Beilschmidt now." The woman informed them eyes daring them to protest. Snape, Prussia noted, had already hidden the camera and was looking almost pleased at the sight of a small blonde woman threatening to kill, maim, or at least beat the shit out of Prussia. The traitor. Lupin and Harry looked as if they were debating whether or not they should help. Prussia melted a little at the sight. How sweet, completely unnecessary, because Prussia could take care of himself, but still it was nice to have someone worrying about him instead of nagging him when he pissed someone off. Germany could learn a thing about the right way to react when your older brother turned up to hide from a frying pan wielding she-devil from them. You were not supposed to lecture said brother about proper behavior, before turning his awesome self over to the crazy smirking Hungarian. No, you hid him and sacrificed yourself for the Greater Good, aka the continued existence of the awesome older brother you should feel blessed to possess.

"You are dead." She told him quietly so only Prussia hear.

"Bring it." Prussia whispered back, allowing himself to be dragged out of the room without protests, as he threw the professor and the kid a reassuring smile. They still looked troubled though. Prussia snorted. It wasn't like England was that scary.