Languages of Love

"I can't believe you, Minerva," Severus snarled upon taking his seat at the staff table in the Great Hall for breakfast. "I would never have thought you would betray me in such a way - helping Saint Potter with his plans!"

Snape loaded his plate with his usual breakfasting foods - toast, bacon, sausage and eggs - and began to eat, instilling each bite with an attitude that was almost venomous.

"Really, Severus, was it so bad to go out into Hogsmeade? I had heard that the club opening there was quite a success," Minerva said, first looking at him and then over to the Gryffindor table, surveying her students. "I must say, I'm surprised to see Granger and Weasley at breakfast without Potter," she continued, deliberately making her statement sound like an offhand comment.

"Not only was Potter the reason my night was miserable, but I am taking more than the slightest bit of satisfaction from the fact that he is currently in bed with a hangover. If he even thinks of coming to me for a potion - or sending his friends to do the same - they will be sorely disappointed."

McGonagall merely raised an eyebrow at him, and then shook her head. Sometimes Severus could be so sensitive.

*** The night before***

Harry hadn't planned on doing anything to Severus that night, so it had been sheer coincidence when the older man had walked into the club. Little did Harry know that Minerva McGonagall - his own head of house - had taken things into her own hands and convinced Severus to go, telling him it would be good for him to ensure nothing strange happened at the club, all the while knowing full well that Harry would be there, although conveniently forgetting to mention that to Severus.

Harry had observed Snape's entrance to the club from his place at the bar, but by that point he was already intoxicated, although he did not realise it; the connections between his brain and appendages, even those in such close proximity to his brain as his mouth and eyes, were impaired. However, upon seeing Severus, his hand instantly shot into the air and he started waving excitedly.

When the Potions Master saw the hand, he at first pretended to ignore it. Severus quickly realised that the only way to prevent Harry from causing a scene, however, was to recognise him; other people in the club had stopped what they were doing and had started looking at Harry very curiously, following his gaze with their eyes and landing on Severus' form, a plethora of expressions directing themselves at him. With a huff and a scowl, Snape began to walk towards the young Gryffindor, glaring at those who stood in his path.

"I should have known you would be here, Potter," he sneered. "After all, your head of house was pushing this place on me as though it were some sort of Muggle resort."

Harry just laughed at that, taking another sip of his drink, which appeared to be Fire Whisky, a light flush appearing high on his cheeks.

"Professor McGonagall already said she wouldn't interfere," Harry stated jovially, his syllables slurring together like a multitude of colours of dye in a bowl of water. "Besides, nothin' was planned for tonight anyway."

"Whatever you're planning on doing next, you should tell me now, and then forget all about doing it," Severus said, taking the opportunity to try and get ahead on Harry's plans. However, Harry wasn't so keen to tell him.

"Nope, I'm not gonna tell you, Sev. That would ruin the surprise," he stated, practically giggling.

Picking up his drink, Harry brought the glass to his lips and finished the liquid in one swallow. Blinking slowly as the alcohol took effect, he looked around the room, as if realising for the first time that there was music and dancing going on. After a moment, he stood and walked, in a somewhat wobbly fashion, over to Snape, closing the distance between them rather quickly considering the depth of his intoxication.

"Severus," he murmured, "dance with me." Harry's emerald green - and somewhat hazy - eyes looked pleadingly up into the other man's cold onyx ones.

"It's Professor to you, Potter, and I am not going to dance with you. Now, release me."

Severus tried to pull away, but found himself trapped by Harry's arms, which had wound their way around his waist, the hands burying themselves into his black dress shirt.

"But, Severus, you look so nice tonight," Harry muttered, nuzzling his face into the older man's chest and slowly starting to drag them towards the dance floor, Severus all the while trying to pry Harry's arms loose, although Harry's grip was quite secure for being drunk. Sighing, Severus realised he had no other option but to let Harry dance with him for a while. Not that he personally planned on doing much dancing, but rather intended to stand near the Gryffindor until a suitable opportunity for him to slip away from the seventh year arose.

The seventh year in question was very happy at the fact that he had not yet been pried from Snape, and considered it a small victory, which he wouldn't relinquish, even to the jaws of the hangover he was sure was ready to pounce on him in the morning. Harry was simultaneously moving along to the loud salsa music, which was playing as part of an 'hourly theme' the club was operating that night to celebrate its opening. However, due to Harry's drunken state, he was far from on beat and looked as though the only thing keeping him on his feet was the fact that his arms were so securely locked around Severus.

Harry paused as the music did the same, and pushed himself onto his tiptoes to brush his lips lightly against Severus' jaw.

"Te quiero, Severus," he whispered, just loud enough for Snape to hear him.

Severus was frozen for an altogether different reason; he could hardly believe what Harry had just done, not least that it had been done in public. As soon as he regained his motor functions, he scoffed disdainfully and shoved Harry backwards. The boy tripped and fell, landing hard on the ground, and Snape glared down at him.

"Don't ever do that again, Potter," he snarled, before turning on his heel and storming off.

As he left the club, Snape made a vow never to return to that particular establishment.

Ron and Hermione came to Harry's rescue moments later, upon hearing the commotion, which had spread throughout the club like wildfire. Harry remained sat on the ground, dazed, his glasses askew. Ron sighed and helped Hermione pull their raven-haired friend to his feet, steadying him as he wobbled and threatened to topple once more, though through a lack of balance rather than a violent push. Helping Harry to walk, rather than simply carrying him, they started the long journey back to the castle in the dead of night.