What Might Be Done

Chapter 11: Another Fool
In which Harry is overcome and our hero is an idiot, again.

O, at last I've awakened to see what you've done
What can I do but pack up and run
Now I know the rules
Get yourself another fool
Ernest Monroe Tucker & Frank A. Haywood - Get Yourself Another Fool

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For an instant after the hand had touched down on his shoulder, Harry felt nauseous and dizzy. Once again, he had led his friends into a trap!

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing out here, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley?”

Harry’s shoulders sagged and he looked quickly at Ron.

“I have never been more upset with any students in my life!”

“Madame Hooch?” Harry gulped as relief flooded through his body.

“Out afterrr cairrrfew! Stealing brrrooms! Rrreckless flying!” Professor McGonagall’s burr was thicker than usual, a sure sign that she was furious.

Hooch let go her grip on Harry’s shoulder and grabbed him by the ear. First Snape, now Hooch. Harry wondered if this was part of a teacher’s training. Ron yelped as McGonagall grabbed and twisted his ear.

“Where’s Miss Granger?”

“Er. . .” Harry wasn’t sure what to say. If he said Hermione wasn’t here, they might end up leaving without her, but he didn’t want to get her in trouble if he could avoid it.

“Don’t prevaricate, Potter. We know she’s with you. Now where is she?”

Harry gestured up the hill with his head and winced as the pressure on his ear increased.

“Come along then. We’ll collect Miss Granger and deal with the three of you back at school.”

“Ow! Let go!” Ron moaned as Professor McGonagall started up the hill, dragging Ron along by his ear.

“Professor, wait! We can explain!” Harry whispered desperately, trying to keep his voice down as they approached the derelict house.

“Your explanation can wait, Mr Potter,” Hooch said angrily.

Harry dug in his heels and refused to be dragged any further, even though Madame Hooch continued to pull painfully at his ear. “Shhh!” He begged. “It can’t wait! Snape’s in trouble and we think Voldemort’s in that house!”’

McGonagall stopped abruptly, causing Ron, who had just begun to trot to keep up with her, to moan again. She cast a silencing charm before saying, “There’s nothing we can do, Harry. I’m sorry. At this stage, trying to assist Professor Snape would do more harm than good.”

“How can you say that?” In spite of the silencing charm, Harry was still trying to keep his voice to a whisper. “We have to do something! We can’t just leave him!”

Hooch let go Harry’s ear and pushed him up the hill. He stumbled forward a few steps and then halted again, only to be shoved more forcefully. Professor McGonagall retained her grip on Ron’s ear and was pulling him along with her.

As they crested the hill they saw Hermione hurrying back towards them. “Oh dear,” she groaned as she saw who accompanied her two friends. “Professors! What are you doing here?”

“I’ll ask the same of you, Miss Granger! For shame! I thought you at least had more sense,” McGonagall said irritably.

“Professor Snape’s in that house, and he’s not alone. I think... I think Voldemort’s with him. I saw them through the window.”

Harry ran before anyone could stop him and pressed his nose against the glass. Snape was in the house, and even though Voldemort’s back was to the window, Harry could never mistake that form for anyone else.

“We have to do something,” Harry hissed. He felt the blood drain from his head as Snape was hit with Cruciatus.

“There’s nothing we can do, Potter,” McGonagall whispered harshly. “Come away from that window this instant! We can’t help Professor Snape and we must get the three of you back to Hogwarts.”

“Fine,” Harry said belligerently. “You don’t want to help? I’ll do it myself! We can’t just leave him here!”

“Do you want another death on your hands, Harry?” McGonagall’s voice was cold.

Harry blanched.

“I’m sorry to do this, my dear, but you leave me no choice. Stupefy!

***

“Ron! Are you awake?” Harry called out in as loud a whisper as he dared, not wanting to wake the rest of his dorm mates. “Ron?”

The only answer was a loud snore.

He could wake his friend up, but really, what would he say? Apologise again for getting him and Hermione in trouble? He couldn’t tell Ron what was really on his mind. Or, he could, but it wouldn’t be reasonable to wake him up to do it.

Harry kicked the covers off his legs and flopped over onto his stomach, punching his pillow, trying to get comfortable. Blowing out an exaggerated breath, he turned onto his back again. One hundred and fifty points Gryffindor had lost. McGonagall was as mad as he’d ever seen her. Hooch had shaken the borrowed broom at the three of them and shook her head without speaking, betrayal radiating from her normally pleasant face. And what about Snape? How could they have left him that way?

Was he back? Was he okay? Well, at least no one had been killed this time. At least Harry hoped Snape hadn’t been, although it hadn’t looked good when the Potions master had been writhing on the floor in front of Voldemort. Snape was a bastard but nobody deserved to be punished the way Snape had been. After all, Snape had been almost nice this year. At least to him.

Harry’s mind went back to Snape sitting on the floor of the Shrieking Shack gently asking about Sirius, and he groaned. Not now he thought. He was getting hard.

It wasn’t that he was attracted to Snape. He wasn’t. Not exactly. But when the only time you had kissed somebody had been a year previous, and that somebody had been a girl, it was hard not to at least consider a man that said he was interested. As far as Harry knew, Snape was the only other gay person at Hogwarts. If you ignored his face and his personality – not that you could – well, you couldn’t ignore his face and his personality. It just couldn’t be done. There was no way to even tell what kind of body was hidden under those black robes. Harry sighed. Snape had obviously been trying to be nicer. Harry just wished the man didn’t find it such an effort.

What did Snape hide under his robes? He seemed fit enough, at least he moved well when he was stalking the hall and he’d proven very quick during duelling lessons. So he had to have some muscle, right? He was probably that same sallow, pasty colour all the way down. All the way down. Harry gulped. He was not thinking this way. Snape was a bastard, and Harry still couldn’t be sure the man wasn’t still a Death Eater.

It was just hormones. These days it seemed like Harry could get an erection simply by eating a good sandwich. He knew he wasn’t alone in this either, although none of the other boys talked about it -- not in so many words. There had been the time Dean had groaned at the sight of a bowl of figs on the table, insisting the house-elves served them just to torment him. A couple of seventh year boys had snickered and Harry had looked at Ron to see if he understood why. Ron had just shrugged and then they had both turned to look at Hermione, who was blushing furiously but refused to explain. From that, Harry had figured out it had something to do with sex, although he still didn’t understand how. Seriously, how could somebody be turned on by figs? It wasn’t at all like watching a guy eat a banana. That at least made sense. No, erections came at the drop of a hat and for no reason at all. It certainly had nothing to do with Snape.

Damn it! Was Snape all right or wasn’t he? Tired of tossing and turning, Harry decided to give up trying to sleep. He’d get his Invisibility Cloak and go to Snape’s office. He might have a long wait, but Harry didn’t think it advisable to lurk outside Snape’s living quarters.

“Pandemonium, Harry said to the fat lady and then climbed out of the hole when she opened the way. Once in the corridor, Harry felt panic rise in his throat. Was Snape all right? Looking around to make sure there was no one near, he broke into a run.

***

Harry swung around the corner and hurtled himself into Snape’s office, knocking over a chair before tripping over a pile of books and sliding several feet across the stone floor until he was stopped by a pair of booted feet.

“You’re okay!” Harry panted, looking up a Snape, eyes wide, smiling with relief.

Snape was seated at his desk, a glass of something green in his hand. “I was. Until I was run over by a drooling cretin.”

Harry quickly wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and then frowned. “I wasn’t drooling!”

“I wasn’t drooling, Professor. I might tolerate you attempting to knock me out of my chair, Potter, but I draw the line at your chronic lack of respect.”

Laughter welled up inside Harry’s belly. He rolled over on the floor, clutching his stomach, laughing until tears ran down his cheeks. An instant more and he was crying in earnest, great gulping sobs.

Snape looked down at him, expressionless save for one raised eyebrow. Finally, he sighed and rose from his chair. Bending down, he grabbed Potter under his arms and hauled him to his feet. “Sit,” he commanded, and pushed the still sobbing boy into a chair. He disappeared into his lab and came back holding a bottle.

Harry was wiping tears and snot from his face; laughter and crying replaced by hiccoughs.

Snape shook his head. “Drink,” he commanded acidly.

“What is it?”

“Poison, of course. Drink it.”

“Oh hell,” Harry said, “why not?” He uncorked the bottle and downed it as quickly as he could, grimacing at the taste.

When he opened his mouth to speak a violet bubble popped out, followed closely by a lime-green one. He blinked and closed his mouth. Another lime-green bubble squeezed out his left ear, and then a blue one out his right. He smiled peacefully. Opening his mouth again he popped out several more coloured bubbles, moving his lips as if blowing smoke rings, propelling them across the room on a gust of warm breath.

“Feeling better?” Snape sounded bored and looked disgusted.

“Much,” Harry said. “What is that stuff?”

Snape grinned smugly. “The Dark Lord’s personal headache remedy.”

“You gave me opium? Won’t that screw up my powers?” Harry didn’t sound worried in the least.

“Don’t worry. A single dose won’t do you much harm, its effects are cumulative, and you can be assured I won’t allow you to get your grubby paws on any more.”

Harry looked mournfully down at his palms. “They are grubby, aren’t they?” He looked up blankly. “I thought you might be dead.” That didn’t seem to worry him any more than the idea of his powers being affected by the potion. “We saw you.” He stared up delightedly at the bubbles surrounding his head.

“What do you mean ‘we’, and what do you mean ‘saw’?” Snape asked.

“He used Cruciatus on you several times. I wanted to help, do something, but they wouldn’t let me.”

“Who are ‘they’, Potter?”

“Me, Ron and Hermione, Professors McGonagall and Hooch.”

Snape looked stunned. “You were there? Minerva and Rolanda were there?” Snape sank into a chair, clutching his head in his hands. “I think you have some explaining to do.”

“We thought you were in trouble. You were in trouble.”

“And ‘we’ this time refers to?”

“Me and Ron and Hermione.”

“Ron, Hermione and I.”

“Right.”

“And the great Harry Potter and his tiny retinue sought to rescue me. Three sixteen-year-old children thought they could rescue me from the Dark Lord.” Snape’s laugh was derisive.

“Sounds stupid when you put it that way,” Harry said calmly, “but we had to do something. We would have gone to Dumbledore, Professor Dumbledore,” he amended quickly, “but he’s sick.”

“And once again it didn’t occur to you to find another Order member.” Snape shook his head. “I suppose I should be flattered.”

“Then McGonagall and Hooch showed up. They said there was nothing we could do. McGonagall Stupefied me.”

“Quite rightly, too. You little idiot! You could have got yourself killed. More importantly, you could have got me killed. What do you think the Dark Lord would have done if his loyal servant was suddenly ‘rescued’ by Harry Potter? My life would have been forfeit, and even if not, my usefulness to the Order would have been ruined! DO YOU NEVER THINK?” Snape had gone quite red in the face.

Harry grinned. “You look funny.” Several more bubbles popped out of his ears and nose.

“You’re high, Potter.”

“Well, whose fault is that?” Harry giggled and then clapped his hand over his mouth as even more multi-coloured bubbles escaped. “I could get to like this stuff.”

“I’m sure you could,” Snape drawled, “but you won’t have that opportunity. As a matter of fact, now that you’ve calmed down, I think it’s time for you to sober up.” Snape rose, walked to his desk, and opened his black bag. “Drink this,” he said, producing a tiny flask.

“What is it?”

“Do you care?”

“Not really,” Harry smiled peacefully. “Certainly not if it’s as good as the stuff you just gave me.” He tilted his head back and smiled up at Snape. “I think you’d better help me. My hands don’t seem to be obeying my brain.”

Snape sighed with exasperation. He uncorked the flask and let the fluid dribble into Harry’s mouth. When Harry had swallowed, he asked, “Feel better?”

“No, actually. I feel...normal. You’re no fun at all.”

“I think it’s time for you to go, Potter. I’ve had a rather disturbing evening. You’re keeping me from a nice long bath.”

Potter turned red.

“Uh, right,” Harry choked out. “I’ll just be leaving then.”

He made no move to go. Snape looked down, taking in the fact that Potter had his hands folded protectively over his groin. The boy turned an even brighter red. Snape was suddenly very glad he had long ago grown out of spontaneous erections. Still, it was rather... delicious.

“Red’s a good colour for you, Mr Potter. No wonder you’re in Gryffindor.”

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Harry insisted, humiliation plain on his face. “It just happens.”

“Yes.” Snape smiled wickedly. “I was sixteen myself, once. Although, if memory serves, there was usually something that sparked it. A good Quidditch match. Showers afterwards. Bananas.”

Harry choked.

“OK, then,” Potter said, standing up. “I’ll just be going. I’m glad to see you’re still alive. Sorry to keep you from your... bath.”

“How happy are you to see me alive, Mr Potter?” Snape asked, his voice taking on a quality Harry had never heard before. A quality that made the hair on his arms stand up.

Snape moved forward as he spoke, and Harry backed up.

“Frightened?”

A purr. That’s what it was. Unbelievably, Snape was purring. He blinked at Harry and looked for all the world like a contented cat.

“You’ve never frightened me, Snape.”

That was a lie.

“Good.” Snape moved forward and Harry backed up once again.

“I think it’s time we get to know each other better.”

Harry closed his eyes and tried to breathe. There was nowhere for him to move anymore. His back was literally against the wall and it would have been hard to slip a piece of parchment between his chest and Snape’s. Trying desperately to take a breath, he pressed his bum hard against the cold wall. If he didn’t calm down he and Snape would be touching and not just at their chests.

Shockingly, Snape brushed his knuckles lightly across Harry’s cheekbones. To his complete mortification, Harry whimpered.

“Oh God,” Harry whispered. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“No?” Snape matched his whisper. “I think it’s a very good idea.” Snape leaned forward and brushed Harry’s temple with his lips. “It’s certainly a better idea than you rushing off harum scarum, trying to save my worthless life. And this,” Snape’s tongue outlined Harry’s ear, “feels rather better than Cruciatus, I assure you.”

Harry’s head flopped backwards and thunked against the wall. He didn’t even have time to register pain and Snape’s lips were on his neck, sucking and nipping, driving every thought out of his head.

“Oh God,” Harry whispered again, sounding dazed.

***

Snape’s lips seemed to be everywhere at once on Harry’s face and neck. Occasionally he could feel teeth, but more often it was Snape’s tongue that he felt. His cock felt as if it could punch a hole in his pyjama bottoms. He wished it would.

Suddenly, Snape pressed hard up against him; something thick and hard pressing into Harry’s belly. Harry’s own cock was wedged almost painfully against Snape’s thigh. Snape grabbed Harry’s hands in his own, pushing them up over his head and into the wall. He ground his hips against Harry’s stomach. Harry thought he might die from pleasure.

Then he panicked. “Stop. Don’t. Please.”

“What?” Snape asked thickly against Harry’s ear.

“It’s too much! Please stop.”

“Don’t be coy, Potter. Now certainly isn’t the time.” Snape did not sound pleased.

Harry swallowed hard, feeling his Adam’s apple moving up and down as if it were inside his throat.

“Just slow down. Please.” He was begging. He almost would rather have died than say the next thing, but he had to. “I’ve never... that is... I’ve only ever kissed one person before and that was a girl!”

Snape let Harry drop his arms but didn’t let go of the boy’s wrists. “You expect me to believe the Hero of the Wizarding World never...?

Snape’s sneer grated on Harry’s last nerve. He felt himself bristle and he pulled away. “Fuck you, Snape! Fuck you and your Hero of the Wizarding World! No. I never. Satisfied, now you’ve totally humiliated me?”

A strange look crossed Snape’s face. He stretched out his arms and tried to pull Harry back into his embrace but Harry was having none of it.

Snape sighed. “Potter... I’m... I’m sorry. I was joking.”

“Yeah? Well it wasn’t funny!”

“I apologised,” Snape snapped. “What else do you want from me?”

“Fine. You apologised. I accept your apology.” Harry looked chagrined. “I should have known this was a stupid idea. I did know. It’s why I tried to forget the things you said to me and why I kept telling myself, ‘Harry, it’s Snape.’” Harry took a deep breath and pursed his lips, feeling very forlorn. “I’m glad you’re on our side, Snape, and I’m glad you’re alive, but I’m going now.”

He turned away from Snape and straightened his clothes, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might shatter against his ribs. He walked quickly towards the door and at the last minute, paused and then turned around. He opened his mouth to say something and then shook his head, opened the door, and left.

***

“Recognize this?”

“Good Lord, Severus! There couldn’t possibly have been any left after the last time!” McGonagall laughed.

“No. This is its great-great-great-great-great-grandchild. Still, the malt doesn’t fall far from the – whatever it is that malt falls from.”

“I take it you’re responsible for its diminished state?”

“And it’s responsible for mine. It and ... Harry Potter.”

“There’s no point loitering in the corridor; a student might see. Come in. You know where the glasses are. Let me just tidy myself up,” Minerva said, pulling what could only be called a tartan peignoir.

It seemed very odd that someone would make something that sheer, plaid. Or perhaps it was just the rather revealing nightgown it covered that was plaid. Snape furrowed his brow. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just late, I was about asleep when you knocked. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand.”

The furrowed brow rose to Snape’s hairline. “That’s the first thing that came to hand? Minerva, you have hidden...” Snape waved his hand vaguely, unable to find the exact word.

Minerva primly pursed her lips. “You will not make me blush, Severus Snape. I’m far too old for that nonsense.”

“Nonsense! You’re not a day over seventy!”

“Somebody should turn you over and paddle your little bottom, young man!”

“Are you offering?”

“Don’t be absurd, Severus,” Minerva said primly. “I think that would be a job for Mr Potter.”

“You old cow.” Snape sneered.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Gryffindors must be the most sexually backward of all teenagers in all of Britain.”

Minerva laughed. “He isn’t!”

Snape’s smile was sour. “He most certainly is.”

“The Boy-who-lived is a virgin? Oh dear, that is a pity. Ah well, Mr Potter’s upbringing evidently caused a certain naivety.”

Snape slumped in his chair. “And this is the Hero of the Wizarding World. We’re doomed.”