When walking alone through the halls, Harry Potter found himself hiding in the closet. Well, not so much hiding but being held hostage.
Harry found himself face to face with Fred and George Weasley, looking from each of them, partly because he was still in shock and partly trying to figure out which was which.
“Tut, tut, tut, Harry...” Fred or George said.
The other twin merely grinned and said, “We can understand you liking Cho Chang, our little sister, hell if ya said you fancied Draco Malfoy we would understand!”
“But we can’t understand how the Boy-Who-Lived...”
“Started fancying our greasy-”
“Git that passes for a Potions Master!” they chimed in unison.
“How’d you find out?!” Harry blurted out, not bothering to try and hide it and regretting it a moment later.
George, he decided, raised an eyebrow, “Harry, we told you to say ‘Mischief Managed’ when you were done with the map, right? To keep prying eyes out?” Harry merely nodded.
“Well, forgetting to do so and charming a quite lovely heart to follow ‘Severus Snape’ on the Marauder’s Map isn’t a nice way to hide a crush.”
Harry blushed furiously. “You can’t tell anyone! Understand?” The twins looked at each other, grinning madly.
“’Course not!” Fred said, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Wizard’s honour!” George said, holding up his wand, Fred copying him. Before Harry could blink they both tapped their wands on his head, saying in unison, “Ostendo sensus!” Their wands glowed bright pink and Harry winced a bit, not knowing what was coming.
“Think it worked, Fred?” George(! He had to be George!) said, to his twin.
“Well, we’ll see soon enough right?” Fred said, reassuring George with a grin.
Harry looked absolutely horrified, “See what?! What did you do to me?!”
Fred gave Harry a wink. “You’ll see, Harry!” he said, sing-song, leaving the closet, George at his heels, leaving a rather confused Harry behind.
Harry filed into potions and took his seat next to Ron, looking around rather nervously. The twins had said they wouldn’t tell anyone, and true to their word, they hadn’t. But then again, they didn’t really need to.
“Class,” Snape said with a sneer, surveying the group, “Since it is your O.W.L. year, I’ve decided to prepare a large array of different potions that could possibly be on the test. Today we will be making Bulbadox Powder. The ingredients and instructions are on the board. Any questions?”
Harry mouth spat out words before he could stop himself, as if someone had pulled a string coming out of his back and the words were preprogrammed, “Can today's potion be used as a sexual lubricant?” he found himself asking, and turning the darkest shade of red imaginable, eyes wide. Everyone turned to look at him. Hermione gasped.
Snape seemed rendered speechless for a moment before replying coolly, “Mister Potter, I suppose it could. However, the effects of Bulbadox Powder cause skin of the person who it touches to break out in boils. Not exactly the ideal choice, but by all means, go ahead, Mister Potter.”
Draco Malfoy snickered as Harry seemed to sink in his chair and Ron went to get the ingredients needed.
Harry had pretty much forgotten about his encounter with the twins by the next week, assuming that the slip in potions was merely from stress caused by the daunting O.W.L.s. Hermione said that was common, after all.
Harry took his seat, Ron next to him yet again, and the Potions Master not looking up from the piece of parchment he was working on. He glanced up and looked at the students, all sitting and waiting for him to start. Snape stood, and flicked his wand at the board, a list of ingredients appearing. “Hair-Raising Potion. Get to work. Any questions?”
“Sir, do you think you would look good in leather?” There were no gasps this time, no snickers. Everyone was rather quiet. Even Snape. Especially Snape. If possible, he looked a little paler.
“Mister Potter, fifty points from Gryffindor,” Snape said with a sneer, not bothering to answer the question, and sitting back at his desk, continuing to write on his parchment.
Harry made Ron’s red hair look pale, as he started chopping up leeches for the potion.
By the time next week came, he was running out of excuses. Hermione didn’t seem to buy the ‘I think I drank an expired potion...’ excuse and he really couldn’t think of any others. He hoped that by remaining silent through potions today would help prove his excuse. No such luck.
Snape followed the usual routine, flicking his wand and saying, rather dryly, “Calming Draught. Follow the instructions carefully. Any questions besides Potter?”
Harry flushed a bit, but to his credit, he said nothing. Satisfied, Snape went back to writing, on what seemed to be a new sheet of parchment. As a matter of fact, there seemed to be a lot of balled up wads of parchment in the waste bin.
Harry was pulled from his trance when words tripped off his tongue against his will, “Sir, do you think I’m sexy?”
The sound of knives ceased, and a small ‘thwack!’ was echoing through the room, and with a silent wail, Neville Longbottom brought his sliced thumb to his mouth, staring at Harry.
Snape just sat there, looking up at him, “Mister Potter, is it your never-ending quest to humiliate yourself every week in my class, hmm?” Harry just shook his head rather weakly, “Good. Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention Mister Potter; see me after class.”
The class seemed to drag on forever and his deep shade of red never seemed to leave Harry’s face. When Snape finally said, “Class dismissed, Mister Potter, stay after,” Harry’s heart did a somersault.
Harry didn’t move from his chair, or even look up for that matter. But when he did look up at his Potion Master, he was merely sitting at his desk writing on the parchment. “Mister Potter,” he said, speaking finally, “Do you find it fun to constantly interrupt my class for the most ridiculous question imaginable?”
Harry just shook his head, tongue-tied. When he found his voice, who his horror it cracked, “No, sir. It’s a hex.”
Snape raised an eyebrow, “A hex, Mister Potter? By who?”
Harry shifted a bit in his seat, before saying rather boldly, “Fred and George Weasley, sir.”
Snape looked a bit shocked for a brief moment before speaking, “Come with me, Potter.”
Snape led him out of the classroom and through a door into his office. It was a rather messy office though, knowing Snape, it probably wasn’t always. His desk was covered in balled up pieces of parchment. From what Harry could see, they were failed letters. Some had ink spilled on them, others were covered in crossed out words. Some were long and others were rather short.
Harry was brought out from his musings about the desk by too lips on his. He stood frozen for a brief second before his mind shouted, “Kiss back, you idiot! It’s Snape!” and kiss back he did. He wrapped his arms around Snape’s neck before they both pulled away for air. Harry paused, looked at Snape (and his arms around him) wide-eyed, before stepping backwards.
“What was that for?” he asked, rather pathetically.
Snape raised an eyebrow, “Because even the Weasley twins cannot make Famous Harry Potter do something he doesn’t want. All they can do is nudge him in the right direction,” he replied dryly.
Words escaped Harry so he decided kisses would work just fine. So he closed the space he had put between him and Snape, kissing the older man on the lips gently, before wrapping his arms around his neck again.
Harry was considerably shorter than Snape, so he was on his tip-toes to kiss him. If Harry could give advice to his fellow classmates who were in a similar situation as he was (Not that that’s a lot, if any), it would be this: Never blink! Because that was the only explanation he had for how he ended up where he was. One second they were standing in his office, the next his was in a bed with no clothes on, Snape next to him in the same lack of attire. How he ended up here, he didn’t know, so he decided to settle on the convenient explanation that he blinked.
Snape had a look on his face that Harry had never seen before. It looked rather mischievous (Though now that he thought about it, it seemed to be the same look Fred and George had while hiding him hostage in the closet). “Well, Mister Potter,” Snape sneered albeit affectionately, smiling and running a finger down Harry’s chest. “Tonight we will be making love. Any questions?”
Potions Master's Office
January 15, 1995
Fred and George Weasley
Seventh Year Boys Dorms
Dear Fred and George Weasley:
This damned letter took me eight feet of wasted parchment to get right, so you had better take this letter seriously, if nothing else in your lives.
Thank you for helping me with Mister Potter. I’m not exactly sure what you did, but whatever it was, it worked. I’d prefer it if you did not tell me what you did, actually. But in all honesty, I truly appreciate what you did.
On that note, you are to never tell anyone about this, ever.
Professor Severus Snape