A Terrible Temptation

A/N - I am starting to really fall for this story. I thought it would just be fun originally, but it is turning out to be something really intriging to write.

JennieMalfoy - Thank you
Helen - Ron is one of my favorite characters adn I love writing him, in SR and EPU he doesn\'t get much \'screen-time\' and I have always wanted to do more with him.
Angelina - I figured after all they have gone through, Ron and Hermione would be used to watching Harry for signs of Posession.
Deblovesdragon - Bang-on is the correct term and thank you for saying so. :)
Dawningskies - too true
Carrie - not to worry, I always finish my stories.
Zephyr - The snarry/draco fight round one starts this chapter.
Spaz141 - You\'re welcome!
PiperS - Glad to help cheer you up!
Ms Pixie - Enchant Audience! Hey! It worked!
ancientgirl - thank you
Droxy - I hope I can, it IS rather tough, but you must know how I love a challenge.
Emily - thank you
Deb - According to the Polylove challenge posted at WIKTT, Hermione can\'t figure out the truth until after, so I have to befuddle her a bit. LOL
mv - thank you
Lisa - I can\'t take credit for the switch idea, as it\'s a challenge, but I can still take thanks for how I have written it, heh, so thank you!

Chapter 5 – Getting Through the Day

Severus lay on the bed staring at the scarlet bed curtains with something akin to horror. Harry Potter had Gryffindor pajamas, for Merlin’s sake; they were lying on the bed waiting for him to put them on, something he was trying very hard not to think about.

The room was all done in scarlet and gold colors and there were Muggle football posters on one of the walls. On one of the other walls were posters of the Chudley Canons, Weasley’s favorite team, who were -- bar none -- the worst players in the league. He was in a room screaming out for sarcastic commentary and scathing remarks and he had to pretend to like it. Worse, he had to pretend enthusiasm for it all. He would not survive the experience.

Mr. Finnegan and Mr. Thomas came in and started undressing for bed, talking loudly about the game.

“Nice catch, Harry, by the way.” Mr. – no, Seamus -- said to him and Severus forced a smile onto his lips. It felt unnatural and wrong to be grinning at one of his students.

“Thanks, Seamus.” The boys continued undressing and it occurred to Severus that eventually he would have to do the same. He wasn’t very happy with that thought. He grabbed the scarlet pajamas with the Gryffindor crest on them and went to the bathroom. If he was going to be doing this for the first time, he didn’t want to topple over in front of the students.

He stripped methodically and tried not to notice his borrowed body too much. Still, there was one area he found his masculine curiosity drawn towards strongly. With the vague feeling of being some kind of pervert, he noted that he himself was better endowed than Mr. Potter but that the boy wasn’t too badly off either. A quick and surreptitious charm later and the long-standing question in his mind was finally answered: Severus Snape had been better hung than James Potter had and he felt rather smug about that.

Still, he dressed hurriedly, wondering why the boy was so thin. A quick delving into the Harry drawer in his mind and the answer popped out. Severus sat down hard on the shower stall’s bench and felt a small wash of sympathy move through him.

He should have done more than turn them all into howler monkeys and ship them to Burma. Those Dursleys should never have treated a wizard like that – or any child, for that matter. Anger forced the sympathy out and Severus welcomed the more familiar emotion. Still, he had seen something now that changed his perceptions and he couldn’t go back.

Boy was still a dunderhead, though. Severus brushed Harry’s teeth angrily and headed back to the bedroom to sleep.


The next morning started with a blurred red shape poking him and telling him to get up or he’d be late to class. Not having had his coffee yet, Severus growled something foul, before the shock of remembering where he was sank in. However, growling was apparently a Harry thing to do and no one paid the slightest heed to his grumbling as he rose and showered.

It would probably shock the entire student body if they had any clue as to just how often Severus showered. He was, in fact, a bit of a clean freak, but his naturally oily skin and hair, combined with the time spent bent over hot cauldrons made it impossible to look as well-groomed as he actually was. He had given up caring years ago.

However he was rather looking forward to tidying Harry’s unruly hair. It had annoyed him no end for years to see that mass of unkempt black fuzz bobbing through the crowds of students. Fifteen minutes later he was still trying to tame it while wondering if the Potter line had been cursed by gypsies and was almost late for breakfast.

He slipped into his seat between Hermione and Ron just as the food was being served.

“What took you so long?” Ron hissed at him. Ron’s own hair was hurriedly brushed in place and his freckled face was clean enough, but the edge of dirt near the ears indicated a rush job at the basin this morning.

“I was trying to get my hair to stop looking like I was dragged backwards through a hedge.” He retorted, only to have Ron snort a nose-full of pumpkin juice. How terribly attractive, to be sure.

“Harry, I thought you gave up on that ages ago. Honestly, getting to breakfast on time is more important.” Hermione tsk’d at him and he looked at her with an expression of annoyance.

“Hermione, I am not a child; please refrain from talking to me as though I were.” Her wide-eyed gaze and Ron’s open mouth informed him that he had misspoken. “I’m sorry ‘Mione but you talk to us like we’re still first years.” He gentled the tone, removed the snarkiness, and saw her respond more favorably.

“You’re right, Harry. I’m sorry.” She was looking at him with a very strange expression and he was unsure as to whether or not he had healed the breach with her. Ron was back to eating as though nothing had happened and Severus shrugged and dug in.

There was a problem; he could see that right off. There was no coffee at this table. There was pumpkin juice and the damnable sweet tea that Albus favored, but there was no bloody coffee and he was not going to be responsible for the bodies left in his wake at the end of the day if he didn’t get some soon.

A shadow over his shoulder caused him to look up. Albus Dumbledore stood behind him. He was a glorious vision -- his savior, with a pot of Jamaican Blue Mountain java steaming in one hand. Delicious swirls of steam rose in tantalizing patterns and Severus reached for his salvation with trembling hands.

“Madam Pomfrey has prescribed coffee for you Harry, to combat the headaches.” Albus was a god, an angel, and the lord of all, Severus thought, misty-eyed as he accepted the pot.

“Harry, you didn’t say anything about headaches.” Ron was looking at him with a worried expression as he poured the life-giving beverage reverently into a cup.

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey is most concerned.” Albus warned Severus and he nodded.

“I’ll take care, sir.” He assured the headmaster. He had to be more like Harry and less like Severus or he would be caught out. He lifted the cup to his lips and sipped it. At least with coffee every morning he would not have to face an entire day of being someone else with his wits addled. “It’s no big deal, Ron. Madam Pomfrey just fusses, you know.” His more youthful response, culled from listening to his students for years, soothed Ron sufficiently that he went back to his breakfast with no further questions. Hermione eyed him but stayed silent, for which he was grateful.

As his awareness expanded back to encompass something other than just the coffee cup in his hand, Hermione’s body next to his on the bench began to assume greater significance. His own body was responding again, sending him the urgent message that there was a pretty girl near by and why wasn’t he doing something about it.

She wasn’t exactly an antidote, if he was being honest with himself. She had an unruly mess of brown hair, but her skin was good and she had all the correct numbers of limbs and digits. The eyes were nice enough and her teeth were good, which would matter if she were a horse he was considering buying. He mentally jerked himself up by the front of his shirt and gave himself a little shake. Stop thinking with the wrong head, my good man and pay attention to staying alive.

Severus drank down his coffee and sighed internally. What was wrong with agedaged boys could be summed up in a single word: hormones. Severus remembered them but had an additional twenty years of experience in dealing with it. He simply imagined Madam Pince in a skimpy two-piece and found that his rising ardor cooled immediately.

Owls winged into the room, sweeping through the illusory blue sky to drop letters and parcels. Something bulky and tied up in twine landed in front of Ron and a letter with international post directions on it dropped in front of Hermione.

She opened it and began to eagerly scan through the letter. She made a face at one point then went back to a happier look later on. Severus found himself curious but was unwilling to pry. Honestly, what did he care if Miss Granger was getting letters from overseas?

“So, that from Krum?” Ron asked Hermione with a voice edged in significance. Severus remembered Hermione’s surprising appearance at the Yule Ball on Krum’s arm. She had looked halfway decent and he remembered thinking that she might grow up to be tolerable one day. He hadn’t known they still corresponded, though Harry had known, he discovered when he rummaged through the boy’s memory.

“Yes, the Bulgarian team is in the play-offs again and he is really excited about it.” Hermione replied with a long-suffering look at Ron. “You can read the letter, if you like.” She offered.

“Only if you cast the translation charm for me.” Ron tried to sound off-hand and failed miserably; he was far too obviously desperate to read a letter from his idol.

“Ron, it’s a simple enough charm. Haven’t you learned to cast it for yourself yet?” Hermione had the same tone she had used earlier and Severus found it irritating.

“Obviously not, or he would have cast it already.” Severus grumbled, not interested in another argument. He grabbed Potter’s wand, cast the translation charm and, taking the letter from Hermione, handed it to Ron.

“Thanks, Harry.” Ron mumbled sheepishly. Blessed silence descended on the table again and Severus was left to finish his coffee in peace.

They rose and headed for their first class, Transfiguration. Potter had completed his homework for it, though Severus had felt it necessary to revise several of his answers; the boy was neither thorough nor accurate.

Severus stalked into the classroom with a sigh; he had thought that he was done with this class years ago. Minerva was seated behind her desk and she gave him a small glare as he entered. He paused, contemplated his demeanor and shifted his walk to be more loose-limbed and adolescent. He scurried to his chair rather than striding and made sure not to sweep his robes dramatically. Minerva bestowed upon him a tiny approving smile and he nodded back.

He was going to have to watch himself more carefully. Hermione plopped down beside him and pulled out her homework scroll. He had been a spy for years; how hard could it be to impersonate an adolescent? Hermione gave him a searching look with big chocolate eyes and he revised his estimation of the difficulty of his act upwards.

There had to be some way to get her off the scent. Her thigh brushed his as she reached for a quill and the current that jolted through him left him temporarily stupid. He swallowed, got a firm hold on himself -- Madam Pince in fishnets -- and turned back to his own homework scroll. The reaction was mutual though, for Hermione was looking decidedly flustered.

That could be a possible solution; love did make girls rather soppy and foolish. It was highly unethical, immoral and likely to get him fired from his job, however. The first two weren’t as much of an issue to him as the last one though. Albus would tolerate a great deal, but if Severus were to deliberately seduce a student? No, that would pass the Headmaster’s bounds rather quickly.

However, it might be nice to start a flirtation with a girl for once in his life. He had always been ugly, skinny and sarcastic; hardly flirtation material. But Potter was good looking, he had a decent enough body and he was well liked. He also lacked a Dark Mark, a serious benefit to being stuck in his body.

A sideways glance at Hermione told him it would be foolish to start something with her however. She had no middle ground, that one. When she fell it would be all the way, no stops and no return ticket. It occurred to him that it would be wrong to play games with her. Some of Potter’s morals must have escaped their confines, he mused.

“Mr. Potter.” Minerva called upon him. He looked up and saw that she was transfiguring mice into mittens. He remembered it well and cast the spell with a flick of his wrist and no apparent effort. His mistake was immediately obvious. Hermione gaped at him and the rest of the class looked somewhat taken aback.

“Um, it’s the same spell as the needles one we did first year, just a transposition of letters.” He blurted out while blushing and looking quite chagrined. It wasn’t hard to manufacture the emotion and Minerva nodded at him again, with a small smile.

“Quite correct Mr. Potter, ten points to Gryffindor.” Severus ground his teeth. Damn it, he didn’t want to earn points for a rival house! Minerva was enjoying this, he could tell. He sat down only to be confronted by Hermione.

“I hadn’t noticed that.” Hermione whispered, looking unhappy. A quick delving through the boy’s memory came up with an embarrassingly plausible reason.

“You didn’t spend two weeks trying to master that one, either. I know it too well.” He admitted to her with a winsome smile. At least he hoped it was winsome; he had no idea how his expressions translated onto Potter’s face.

“That’s true.” Hermione looked relieved and it occurred to Severus that she was taking this all too seriously. It was as if being the smartest student in the school was the whole of her identity. It reminded him of the young man he used to be.

He turned his mind back to paying attention in class and pretending to be Harry Potter, the Gryffindor git.
Minerva set them all to studying and left the room -- a bad idea, Severus thought with irritation; one doesn’t leave Slytherins and Gryffindors alone in a room together.

From the corner of his eye, he noted Draco Malfoy’s wand moving ever so slightly. He read the young man’s lips and let out a sigh. How juvenile. That really was Draco’s problem; he just didn’t have any style.

Screams erupted as mice began to run through the room and most of the girls (and several of the boys) tried to climb onto their desks.

Hermione frowned and with a wand wave dispelled the tide of mice. Draco glared at her and stalked over.

“Who asked you to meddle, Mudblood?” He hissed at her. Severus looked up at the Malfoy heir and gave himself permission to do something he’d wanted to do for six years.

“You know what your problem is, ferret boy?” Severus stood and asked him with a smirk.

“What’s that, Potty?”

“You listen to all the crap people tell you and don’t ever bother to think for yourself. You have never once bothered to ask if what your father has told you is true or a load of horseshit.” He hauled off, hit the blonde idiot, and watched him topple over with a thud. “You also never bother to guard against a physical attack.” He finished with a satisfied smirk.

“Happy, Mr. Potter?” Minerva drawled into the sudden silence. Severus looked up at her and saw the deeply hidden satisfaction under the outer stern gaze.

“Utterly, Professor McGonagall.” He replied quite truthfully.