Never Wake a Sleepwalker

beta’d by Ali.
A/N: Plot bunnies…meh. Think this one might have had mange.
Disclaimer: Everyone and everything you see here belongs to JKR and co.

“Lumos!” Ron said, blue eyes scanning the room warily as he was jerked awake at the sound of someone stumbling through the dorm room. It took a moment for his sleep clouded brain to realise that the person making all the racket was Harry. He was walking very strangely toward the door, bumping into trunks and bedposts only to right himself and keep going.

Awareness making Ron’s eyes go wide, he jumped from the bed and chased after Harry, breathing a sigh of relief as he got to the stairwell in time to cast cushioning charms along the whole thing. If Harry tripped on the steps, Ron didn’t want him getting seriously injured. Miraculously, Harry’s slow, measured steps took him down safely, not even bumping into the wall once.

As the two boys entered the common room, Hermione looked up, a scowl on her face at the intrusion. She had less than three inches of this scroll to complete for her History of Magic homework—which wasn’t due til the end of the next week—and did not appreciate being interrupted.

“Harry, Ron, what are you two doing up, wandering around this time of night?!” she asked, starting in on her two friends in a rather loud voice, considering the time of night and the state of slumber most of the Gryffindors were currently enjoying.

Ron’s eyes widened comically at Hermione’s sharp tone and he hissed, as loud as he dared, “Hermione, shut up! You might wake him!”

Hermione just blinked at Ron. “And that would be a bad thing, why?”

Ron’s eyes were now roughly the size of dinner plates as he quietly shrieked, “YOU NEVER WAKE A SLEEPWALKING WITCH OR WIZARD, WOMAN! Didn't you hear what happened at Pompeii, and Atlantis, and the Great Fire of London???” At Hermione’s blank stare, he dug his fingers into his scalp. “Of all the times for you to have not read something, Hermione…” His voice trailed off as he heard the sound of the Portrait swinging shut…with Harry on the other side.

“Shite!” Ron ran as fast as he could, barely waiting for the Portrait to open before he was sliding through. And lucky he did, because he caught up to Harry right as he was about to step off the seventh floor into nothingness. The staircases had moved again. Ron grabbed Harry and pulled him back, just holding him, shaking a little at his friend’s near death experience.

Hearing a sound behind him, Ron turned to see Hermione with her hand over her mouth, looking pale as a ghost. “Tell me again why we can’t wake him up,” she requested, lowering her trembling hand and turning worried eyes on Ron.

Speaking quietly, he explained, “It’s very, very dangerous to wake a sleepwalker. No one quite knows why, but something happens with their magic when you do. The more powerful the person, the more powerful the tragedy they cause. Someone waking a sleepwalking witch, who was the magical equivalent of Lavender or Neville, was what started the Great Fire. Can you imagine what might happen if we woke someone with Harry’s power?”

Hermione went nearly weak in the knees at that thought. Shaken, she moved to Ron and Harry and said quietly, “I’ll stay with you. Let me know what to do.”

“We just need to follow him until he wakes up or goes back to bed.”

Harry started struggling against Ron’s hold, causing both other teens to panic. Luckily the staircase chose that moment to swing back to them, allowing Ron to release Harry after Hermione cast some more cushioning charms.

They followed him for nearly an hour, walking up and down staircases, wandering through dimly lit hallways, until Harry turned the corner and walked into the great entryway. Ron and Hermione had been keeping a sharp eye out for anything that Harry might injure himself on and as a result had not been really looking at where Harry was going. Thus it was that he walked right into Snape, who was making his nightly rounds.

Seeing an unholy light gleam suddenly in Snape’s eyes, Ron frantically shook his head and said quickly, “He’s sleepwalking, sir! Please don’t wake him.”

Snape deflated, rather perturbed at not being able to yell at his favorite verbal punching bag. The only reason he did these damn nightly rounds was in the hope of finding Potter so he could torture him just a little. The little brat was rather good at avoiding him, which only made Snape redouble his efforts.

Ron, Hermione, and Snape all went stiff with shock when, instead of moving around Snape and continuing on, Harry let out a small, happy sigh and wrapped his arms around the other man, snuggling his face down into the crook of his neck. “Mmmm.”

Ron’s eyes went wide and a small “eep” came out of him when he saw Harry start to nuzzle the side of Snape’s neck. Snape’s arms went immediately out to the sides, as if to say, “I’m not touching him! See? I’m not touching him!”

Harry’s hands moved up to grasp at Snape’s shoulders, and he continued making happy little noises as he went from nuzzling to kissing and licking at the skin of Snape’s neck and the underside of his jaw.

Ron started to step forward, to do what he wasn’t sure, but his Professor hissed, “Don’t be an idiot, boy! Do you want to be buried under this damn castle for all eternity?”

Ron actually had to think about that for a moment. He finally decided the lives of the thousands of people who were sure to die horribly if he woke Harry were a bit more important than his future mental health. But the image of Harry rubbing against Snape as he nibbled on his earlobe would definitely be cause for Ron to admit himself to St. Mungos.

Harry’s hands were now buried in Snape’s hair, tugging on it to get to Snape’s mouth. Snape stood tall and straight, not about to give in, until they all heard Harry start to whimper with frustration. Oh, hell!

Snape had been doing an admirable job of ignoring the sensations Harry was causing with his lips and teeth, but when he finally gave in—for the good of the country, of course—and lowered his head enough for Harry to kiss him, he couldn’t block the utterly devine sensation of the soft, full lips rubbing against his own, the hot little tongue flicking against the seam of his mouth. Tilting his head slightly, Snape gave in and took control of the ridiculously arousing kiss. The boy was good!

Watching his best friend snog the daylights out of their most hated Professor was the final straw for Ron. He slumped to the ground in a dead faint.

Hermione heard Ron fall, but was too engrossed in the rather titillating sight of Harry and Snape snogging to bother to turn and help him. She made a mental note to cast some basic healing spells on him in a moment, and then focused all her attention on the two men who were suddenly devouring one another in the middle of Hogwarts.

Dragging a shaking hand through her hair, she moved to lean against the wall as Harry started running his hands over Snape’s lean body…under his robes. “Oh, my,” she whispered, fanning herself a little bit, as she watched one of Snape’s long fingered hands disappear down the back of Harry’s pajama bottoms. From the way the fabric was moving, she could tell her Professor had completely lost himself to the kiss and was kneading Harry’s arse with that hand, while the other buried itself in the shaggy mess that was Harry’s hair.

She watched, stunned and rather aroused, as Harry pulled back from the kiss, lips swollen and bright pink, eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks before slowly rising to show a look of sleepy confusion on Harry’s face.

“Where am I? What’s going on? Professor?”

Hermione avidly watched Harry’s brain finally kick in as his cheeks turned bright red. Flicking her gaze rapidly back and forth between Harry and Snape, she realised that both men were sporting rather bright blushes and…she peeked…rather healthy erections. Hermione grinned wickedly to herself as she made a mental note to collect her five Sickles from Ginny. Harry was gay!

“Professor?” Harry asked, voice rising several octaves at the end of the word. “Why is your hand down my pajamas?”

Snape removed his hand so fast, the snap of the elastic band at the waist of Harry’s bottoms could be heard echoing up and down the hallway.

“Perhaps, you little idiot, because your hand is down my pants! One hundred points from Gryffindor for roaming the hallways after curfew, and one hundred points for molesting your Professor!” With that last bit growled in Harry’s face, Snape reached down, pulled Harry’s hand from the front of his trousers, and spun to leave.

Hermione was about to breathe a sigh of relief when she watched Snape stop, turn around and bark out, “And detention, with me, for a week, Potter! If nothing else, you can use the time to brew an Anti Sleepwalking Potion!” With a flap of his robes, he was gone.

Hermione turned to Harry, unable to stop a delighted giggle.

“What?” he asked, still embarrassed.

“Enjoy your detentions, Harry. Mind if I borrow the Invisibility Cloak to come watch?”
“Hermione!” Harry sounded scandalized.

“Oh, and Harry? Thanks for winning us back the one hundred points!”

A look of total confusion was her only answer to that.

With a wicked grin, she pointed to the House points meters, which showed one hundred points leaving, before another hundred points went right back in.

The End.