Disclaimer: Hey, if I owned the Potter-verse, Sirius wouldnt be dead, and he and Remus would be shacking up. Not to mention Harry would be having hot, torrid flings with Ginny and Draco and Snape. Draw your own conclusions, why dont you?

"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."
by juxtaposed

Chapter Two: My Potions Professor and I

"You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."

In the comfort of his bed, Harry Potter was also pondering upon the very same line. His face flushed as he thought about the implications of those words.

Could he…did he…was he…

Did it mean what I think it might mean?

I mean, if he meant…if he meant what it might mean…

That would be wrong.

Right?

Merlin, that would be very wrong. My Potions professor and I? Okay, now that just sounds like a very bad movie. 'My Potions Professor and I', starring Severus Snape and Harry Potter! – I'm sure that'd just bring in the Galleons.

Harry was rather appalled at his teacher's words, of course, but he couldn't say that he was terribly shocked. After all, he had cast a spell on Snape to make him nice to everyone; that would have included Harry too, he guessed. Nice, not flirtatious, his mind pointed out. Then again, the Potions Master had been drunk. Ridiculously drunk. Harry was amazed that Snape had even been able to make his way around the school instead of spending hours collapsed in front of the toilet bowl.

A twinge of guilt wormed its way into Harry, as he realized that Snape's drunkenness was doubtless a result of his prank. Despite what everyone thought, he didn't actually despise the much-despised professor. His prank hadn't been a malicious way of getting revenge on Snape, rather he had wanted a challenge for himself – after defeating Voldemort, there were only so few things that could thrill him. And trying to prank the man who had countless years of experience and well-honed instincts and reflexes, was definitely a challenge.

Besides, it had been hilarious to see him so utterly reproachful about being pleasant to his students. Not only to his students, of course – Harry chuckled as he recalled Snape pulling Trelawney into a hearty bear hug, which resulted with the latter screaming in fright and running away from the former, who simply grinned cheerfully and waved her off.

And Harry had to admit he rather enjoyed seeing Snape's face lit up, even if it wasn't real. His face just seemed younger, his entire demeanour seemed lighter, and Harry had admired the potential of Snape being a very attractive man if only he wanted to be.

Did I just think that he could be attractive?

Oh dear.

I mean…No! He's not attractive. He's…he's greasy. And pale. And not at all attractive.

Harry was rather proud of himself for being so firm about the matter on hand, when another part of his mind spoke up, challenging his own thoughts.

Except that you know his hair only looks that way because of the potions, and he's pale because he doesn't go out into the sun. In fact, when he was out with the students, he actually developed a hint of a tan that looked rather delectable, and –

Aah! No! I did not just think he was delectable. He…he…he's an overgrown bat!

Actually, when his robes billow, he looks pretty damn hot. In that whole tall, dark, mysterious stranger sort of way.

Will you stop that?

Harry cast a mental glare at himself, and immediately got one in return.

Okay, now I know I'm crazy, because I just glared at myself – twice. Merlin help me.

You're way past even Merlin's help.

Shut up.

Suddenly… "You can ride my broomstick any day, Harry."

The voice of his teacher floated again into his mind, and Harry groaned, but paused when he heard Ron, in the adjourning bed, stir slightly. Then Harry turned to bury his face into his pillow before resuming his growls of frustration and annoyance. He didn't exactly hold anything against Snape, per say – he knew that was just the eleven-year-old-boy-who-had-been-terrified-out-of-his-wits-by-the-terrifying-Potions-Professor in him speaking. The same boy who, in his naivety, considered all Slytherins to be arrogant, cruel, heartless bastards; with their Head of House and supposed "prince" his mortal enemies.

It was the side of him that tried his hardest to pin the blame of many unfortunate matters upon the Potions Master, no matter how unfounded and immature it was. Most notable, of course, was Sirius' death – Harry had taken quite a while to accept that maybe it hadn't been all Snape's fault.

Although it was just easier to accuse him of all responsibility, than to spend months wallowing in guilt, he had finally come to terms that sometimes the people he had spent so long thinking could do no wrong, could, and often did; while people he might have perceived as evil really weren't what they seemed. So he had stopped placing his late godfather on a pedestal, learnt to face the fact that even the wizened Headmaster had his faults, and tried to ignore the instinct to run away from the formidable Potions teacher. Eventually, he had come to grips with it all – well, he had been pretty much forced to, what with trying to outsmart and bring the downfall of Voldemort, a feat that usually included Snape in varying degrees of involvement.

And so, the seventeen-year-old Harry, who had worked closely with aforementioned professor in defeating the Dark Lord, soon begun to appreciate that the embittered man truly was an intelligent one, with a wicked sense of humor, if one knew how to recognize it. Which Harry was rather proud to say he did, though it took months to learn to differentiate dry sarcasm from truly caustic remarks, both often at Harry's own expense. All this as well as being remarkably brave and cunning – after all, one couldn't possibly be a spy against Voldemort without possessing those qualities. And as a Gryffindor, Harry couldn't help but find himself extremely impressed that the Head of Slytherin could claim to have those traits, traits that were very high up on Harry's list of Qualities To Look For In Other People.

So while the eleven-year-old in him still protested that anything positive could never be within reach of the fearsome Potions Master, the seventeen-year-old Harry rather admired the snarky man, truth be told.

But I don't find him attractive, he assured himself. Admiration and respect were vastly different things than attraction and desire, and – where the hell did desire come from?

Desire would indicate a want of some sort. I feel no desire for the man.

Oh really?

Yes, really.

Not even when you saw him break into a smile that made your knees weak?

Not even when – I mean, I did no such th – sigh…how did you know about that?

You wanted him, just admit it. For that brief period of time –

Very brief.

Alright, yes, for that very brief period of time, you wanted him. You were attracted to him, you desired him. Admit it.

Well, …a little.

Just a little.

Harry muffled another sigh of exasperation.

But its not like that isn't alright – I mean, I bet loads of people have fancied him at one point or another, and no, wait, this is Snape we're talking about here, so I am going insane, because I think I have some sort of inexplicable…crush on the blasted man!

But it is perfectly normal to have a crush on a teacher. Its like, a requisite of growing up. I mean, I know Ron and Dean thought the DADA teacher last year was cute, and Ginny's fancied Remus, even Hermione did too, plus she had that crush on Lockhart, so its really quite normal to have an attraction to a teacher.

Even if it was Snape.

Who was still an evil bastard to the rest of the world.

Not to mention male.

He didn't really care about this fact; he had discovered that homosexuality was easily accepted in wizarding circles - although it was common for gay wizards to end up with the other sex simply to procreate. While he found this part to be a strange practice, he was nonetheless grateful that he would be free to experiment either way, with no retribution or bad press coming back to bite him in his ass.

Because Harry didn't really know what his preferences were, in all honesty. After all, he had once thought Cho Chang to be the prettiest girl ever - until she became an emotional wreck, and he had noticed just how pretty Hermione and Ginny were becoming; but then again he had also reckoned that Bill Weasley was rather handsome, and that Sirius – if he hadn't been his godfather - was so good-looking he might likely have had a crush on him.

But then again, those were all physical attributes that he was considering, and his thoughts on the matter were likely shared by a good lot of other people.

Snape however…

Harry personally thought that there was a sort of smoldering presence to the man, but he might have been swayed by his knowledge of Snape's true personality. Meanwhile, the rest of Hogwarts who still saw him as the greasy git of a Potions professor, would probably haul him off to St Mungo's if they knew what he really thought. And felt.

And they would wonder why on earth the Boy-Who-Lived, who had virtually all of the wizarding world to choose a lover, would choose this man.

Why, of all wizards, he would choose Professor Severus Snape…

The teacher who had single-handedly made his whole life at Hogwarts some sort of living hell, regardless of whether Voldemort and his evil cronies were trying to kill him in one way or another.

The professor who had taken great and utter delight in issuing him detention after detention, or deducting copious amounts of Gryffindor House Points.

The man who had seemingly lived to degrade him and constantly spurn him with dry, caustic remarks.

And yet, he was the same person who had, upon countless occasions, saved him from certain death, or other life-threatening situations.

He was the single figure that could possibly have helped him defeat Voldemort the way he had, risking life and limb for the greater good.

He was the one staff member who had proven to be the only true constant in Harry's life, even if it was for nothing more than his simple, unwavering disapproval of, well, Harry's life.

If for nothing else but his unflagging integrity, Severus Snape proved to be quite the crush-worthy man.

This realization struck Harry hard, and he could feel blood drain from his head, leaving him faint and vaguely nauseous.

Oh, dear gods.

I'm infatuated with my Potions professor.

And with that thought, Harry quickly cast a silencing charm around his bed, before releasing a half-yell of frustration into his pillow.

AN: (scrambles for cover) Eep! I know, I know, its taken me close to forever to come up with chapter two, but I had the god-awful affliction known as Writer's Block (ooh, uppercase...), and I'm still not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I just need to get it out of the way, out of my system, and out onto FFNet, so that I can hopefully get cracking on the next chapter. Hope you guys like it, and I really am sorry for the five-week wait.

Thanks to my wonderful readers and reviewers, Somnia Lustre, Klover P, Sofia Dragon, Queenie-97, Pris, ataraxis, penny, Lee Lee Potter, A Person, jess, Ishy and Nilu - I think I love you all because you're all so nice and make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Chocolate-covered chocolate chip cookies and hot fudge for you all!

Again, I do apologize for the long wait, and hopefully its somewhat been worth it...let me know, wont you? (grin)