The Wicked Week
Chapter 2: Cold Shower Tuesday
Harry felt sick. His arms and legs tingled. His scalp itched. His body was on sensory and emotional overload. The apprehension and anxiety over his impending detention were more than he could stand. From the moment he awoke this morning to find himself in a most embarrassing situation, provoked by last night's events, nothing and no one but Severus Snape was to be found occupying his mind.
The-Boy-Who-Lived was set on edge from the start. He knew that he was going to have to see the man on and off throughout the day, whether he wanted to or not. There was nothing he could do and to skip breakfast wouldn't be smart. It only played into Snape's hands if he didn't show. Taking his normal place at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Harry attempted to swallow his breakfast of eggs and toast. Hermione and Ron prattled on, as usual, but Harry couldn't hear a word they said. The food before him grew cold and inedible. He could barely make it through his morning glass of pumpkin juice.
Harry could feel the laser-sharp focus of the striking Potions Master sitting at the head table drilling into the back of his head. Stealing a glance, emerald eyes locked on to onyx. The normally cold, fathomless orbs now held a hint of mischief. He knew the man was toying with him, had found a weakness to exploit. While he knew it made no sense, it still didn't change the fact that Pandora's Box was now lying shattered on the ground. He had seen the man in all his unadorned splendor and...
Merlin!
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A dark, velvety laugh floated across the Great Hall.
Bewildered eyes turned to towards the main table. Snape laughing? Unheard of.
That laugh was for him and him alone. He had only heard it once before-last night as he ran from the Potions classroom. A shiver ran down Harry's back at the sound. Abruptly standing, he knocked his glass over spilling the orange contents over his friends.
"Hey mate watch it," whined Ron. "Where are you goin'?"
Lying badly, Harry replied," I left..erm..something in the common room. See you in class."
Harry fled the hall as if his body was on fire, haunted by the sounds of an exceedingly gleeful Snape.
After the disaster that was breakfast, the rest of the day proceeded to go down hill from there.
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In Care of Magical Creatures, he once again became distracted by thoughts of his dark and snarky professor. So distracted in fact that he did not notice when the fire crabs got lose and set his pants aflame. He had to go to the infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey after that. Unfortunately for him, Snape was there as well to deliver a new batch of Blood-Replenishing Potion. With concern in her eyes, Madam Pomfrey rushed towards the slightly burned boy as he stepped into the Infirmary.
"Harry, what happened dear?"
"I found my..um..well. Fire crab."
"Ah well. I'll need to look at the wound. Take your pants off. I'll have you fixed and ready before you know it."
Harry walked slowly towards the white, linen covered bed. As he began to unbutton his pants, he sensed that someone was only a breath away from him.
"Mr. Potter. Do not think that just because you were unable to maintain your focus long enough to worry about your own well being that I will excuse you from our engagement this evening," purred Snape.
Harry's breath hitched and he wavered slightly, unconsciously leaning towards Snape as his melodious voice purred just next to his ear.
"What time will we be meeting Mr. Potter?"
"8'oclock,"moaned Harry.
"8 o'clock what, Potter?" With dread and excitement his whole body began to hum. He couldn't think past answering Snape.
"Sharp, sir. 8 o'clock sharp."
"Good boy. Now take off your pants. Madam Pomfrey doesn't have all day."
The hours crawled, yet flew by. Now it was 7:57. Harry stood outside the door to the Potions Room. He kept taking deep breaths, desperately trying not to be sick.
Nerves. Just Nerves. Nothing to worry about. Snape's not going to do anything too terrible. I mean he knows that I find him attractive. So what? Lots of people are. Doesn't mean I'm gonna shag them? Bollocks! Why'd that bloody bastard have to look so good naked! I mean its so unnatural. It's SNAPE. I hate him. He's a stupid greasy git! But...
That body. And that voice! Merlin! Never noticed that before. I mean, he's yelled at me loads, but in the infirmary...
Becoming so engaged in his inner monologue, he failed to realize that the clock now read 8:05. Taking a deep breath, Harry straightened his robes and pushed open the door. Inside the classroom he found a very stern face professor.
"Potter when I say 8 o'clock sharp, I mean 8 o'clock sharp."
"I'm sorry Professor. I have been standing out side the door since seven thirty. I...I wasn't sure I could come in. I..'t realize I was lat... Sir. Sorry," Harry sheepishly responded.
Damn! Late! How could I be late I was here! Damn! He's so distracting!
"Save the excuses. In addition to tonight's detention, you will write me an essay on the importance of punctuality. You do know the meaning of the word, even if it is not something you generally practice?"
"Yes, sir."
"You will also stay here an additional five minutes in repayment for the time lost. You wasted my time, so I shall waste yours. Are we clear?"
Looking down at his shoes Harry mumbled, "Yes, sir."
"Good."
Harry was utterly frazzled by the end of his detention. Snape had barely given him a moment's peace. He had been tortured with fleeting caresses from the older man's robes and 'accidental' brushes of skin on skin. The man had hovered closely as he re-organized cabinets filled with textbooks and cleaning supplies.
The only time Snape had not stayed practically pressed upon him was as he was made to scrub the floor with a toothbrush. Oh, the irony of the position was not lost to Harry in the slightest. The man had him on his hands and knees for Merlin's sake! That was almost worse than anything else. Harry had turned a most violent shade of red as he realized his ass was pointed directly at the man as he sat silently sipping a cup of tea. It was awful and degrading and somehow wickedly arousing.
As a child, Harry had been ordered to do similar tasks at the Dursley's. It was a punishment he deplored, but in the presence of Snape, Harry felt it was less of a task and more like exquisite torture. Having to constantly feel the man's eyes on him as he bent over, as he stretched, as he ran his hand through his hair. Every move was scrutinized. Oh yes, it was horrible and delicious. And he mentally kicked himself every five minutes for thinking such erotic thoughts about what could be done to him on his hands and knees-especially with Snape as the other party in the little fantasy.
Silently replacing the toothbrush and bucket into the cabinet, Harry turned to towards the front of the classroom.
"I'm finished Professor."
"Yes, I can see that you are. Come here boy. It is time to give me my five minutes"
Harry haltingly walked towards the man. He couldn't help but notice how incredibly sexy he looked just then. Legs crossed. Hands draped casually on the arms of the chair. Head to toe in his trademark black. He looked like a dark prince. Dangerous and delectable.
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"I know you saw me yesterday in my office."
Harry jumped.
Oh Crap! Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap!
"I uhh..."
Snape continued to whisper in his ear while cruelly running his fingers over his body. The fleeting caresses drove Harry insane.
"Don't try to lie to me Potter. I saw that the door was open. You saw me naked. Did you like that? Secretly watching me?"
"I uhh, I didn't mean to," Harry stammered.
"Yes, I'm sure you have managed to convince yourself of that fallacy. You could have turned away at anytime, but you did not. Why is that Mister Potter?"
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"It's 10:05."
Harry looked at the man blankly.
Raking his gaze over him, Snape smirked. "Looks like you need a cold shower."
And with that the Potions Master in all his splendor breezed out the door, leaving a very stunned, very hard, very naked Boy-Who-Lived.
Cold Shower Tuesday is reference to a Bowling for Soup Song.