(homo)Sexual Overtures

Snape sat at the head table staring down at the students. His eyes flicked automatically towards a bright red head seated next to a messy-haired black head. A fuzzy brown head was across from them both and its mouth was moving at twenty miles a minute. The red-head and raven-haired boy were sitting awful close. Perhaps the Potter boy was hiding something.

It was always Snape's deepest hope that two of the three of Potter's little bunch would get together. 'Although', he mused silently, 'I would never have thought that it would be Potter and Weasley. I must be getting old.'

He stirred his thick porridge in deep thought about this for several moments, until the honey streaks were well and truly mixed in. In fact, he nearly stirred a hole through the bottom of the bowl.

The greasy man sneered thoughtfully at the trio. How could Harry be hurt? If he and Ron were together Hermione would be the one pushed out. While he hated the know-it-all Gryffindor, his loathing for Potter far outranked his hatred for her. So what he really needed to do was to make a match between the fiery-tempered Ron Weasley and the snobbish bookworm Hermione Granger.

"Hmm..."

The light, tickling flare of an idea began to creep through his head. Thoughts rocketed through his cranium, clanking together to complete a huge puzzle.

He began to run through the things that he would need to make up an infatuation potion. Then, he began to think about exactly how to get this potion into Hermione's food.

Snape chuckled to himself long and hard as he got up from his seat and walked to the dungeon. He didn't stop laughing until he got there and was slightly perturbed by the funny looks that he got on his way. He was happy, not an axe murderer!

All business, Snape took out a cauldron and an ancient book. He carefully thumbed through the pages until his eyes alighted on what he needed. A sinister smile spread across the greasy plains of his face. He prepared his ingredients and set the potion to boil. He was the master.

After breakfast Ron, Harry and Hermione began the long walk to their dreaded first lesson of the day: Potions.

"Another year of Snape," Harry groused.

"Another year of grease!" Ron agreed with a vigorous nod of his head.

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly. "He does know his subject though," she told them matter-of-factly, ignoring the looks of utter disbelief.

The three took their respective seats: Harry and Ron together and Hermione sitting with Neville. Ron couldn't help but notice that Snape actually seemed to be happy today. He sneered much more than usual and merrily deducted points from Gryffindor. In fact, what were those devious looks he kept sending toward him and Harry? Knowing looks, even! Bloody hell! What had got into the man?

Ron shook off the uneasiness associated with Snape being... he could barely even think it... happy. Jaunty, even.

Snape couldn't help swanning around the classroom with the happiest of his sneers pasted on his face. Malfoy gave him a strange look, which seemed almost inviting.

'Goodness me,' he thought with far less amusement, 'he wants my body.'

Snape picked up his pace and moved across the room. He stayed there for the remainder of the class. Instead of his happy sneers, he appeared to be quite nervous. He shot looks over at Malfoy's table frequently. However, as the trio left the classroom, Snape did smile in a truly evil sort of way. He rubbed his grubby hands together and stared after them, still smiling evilly.

Later that day, Snape could wait no longer to launch his plan into action. He took a vial of potion to the kitchens and gave one of the house elves strict instructions about where and when to place it. He felt rather happier than he had earlier, not only because his plan was starting to take shape, but also because he had been able to get in some top quality shouting. He enjoyed shouting a lot...almost as much as taking points from Gryffindor.

Snape sat at the head table staring down at the students. His eyes flicked automatically toward a bright red head seated next to a messy-haired black head. A fuzzy brown head was across from them both and its mouth was moving at twenty miles a minute. The red-head and raven-haired boy were sitting awful close.

"Well, that will soon be fixed, won't it?" he sneered to himself happily.

"Excuse me?" asked the tiny professor Flitwick. He had a strange look on his face.

"I'M NOT AN AXE MURDERER!" Snape shouted.

Flitwick paled and shifted his chair away with a loud scrape. He looked ready to faint.

Snape looked across at him calculatingly.

"Boo," he murmured in the tiny Professor's ear. He felt a surge of joy and amusement as the small man leapt up from his seat with a "Holy tintinnabulation, Snape!" and scampered out of the room.

Today, he realised, was a good day.

What the professor did not see when he was scaring the living daylights out of poor Flitwick was that Hermione had given Harry her food.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" he asked, his mouth full.

She smiled at him. "Yes, I'm really not hungry. I think I'm going to head up to the common room and study a bit. I'll see you two there later."

Snape looked back to see Hermione leaving the Great Hall. He frowned. This had better have worked. Perhaps she was so confused by these new feelings she had to leave. He sneered again. All was well.

"So, Harry," Ron said to his best friend. "Are you looking forward to Quidditch this year?"

Harry stopped chewing and blinked a few times. He looked at Ron with a strange look on his face and swallowed awkwardly.

"Um," he floundered, "sorry, what did you say?"

"Quidditch," Ron repeated slowly. "Are you looking forward to it this year? You feeling alright Harry?"

Harry looked at Ron and his eyes opened wide. Ron watched as his friend looked at his flaming hair, took in every feature of his face. Harry's gaze traveled down Ron's chest and below the table before he finally snapped his eyes up to Ron's face.

"Er...yeah, I'm fine. I mean, uh...I think...I think I need some sleep. Later, Ron."

Harry leaned down as though he were going to whisper something in Ron's ear...or perhaps KISS HIM, Ron realized with a start. However, Harry straightened up like a whip and walked quickly out of the Hall.

Ron was still trying desperately to get his head round what had just happened when he heard a loud barking laugh from the teachers table.

The entire room went silent and all eyes searched the front of the room for the source of the noise. Ron's eyes fixed on Professor Snape, who rapidly turned his laugh into an unconvincing cough.

Today, Ron realised, was going to be a strange day.

Ron made his way to the common room and sat down next to Hermione at a table. She smiled at him but went straight back to work. Ron rolled his eyes and shrugged at her. As he turned his head to the other side his blue eyes met green ones, very intent green eyes, staring into his own. Ron's eyes took in Harry's vacant and adoring gaze.

He tried to look away, but found himself held by the penetrating stare. After several minutes, Ron began to get the sinking feeling that something was wrong...very wrong. It just isn't normal to stare at someone for quite that long. Well, sometimes he stared at Hermione that long but that's because he...bloody hell...He started to get a shivering creepy sensation crawling down his spine.

"H-Harry?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, Ron?" Harry replied. The adoring gaze never left his face, though the vacancy seemed to have departed.

"Er...why are you staring at me like that? Do I have a bogey?"

He heard a stifled snigger from Hermione and blushed pink.

"Oh no, Ron. Of course not, Ron. I would tell you if you had a bogey immediately! Besides, you'd probably make a bogey look good anyway, Ron."

Ron blushed red this time. Apparently, the vacancy had departed to Harry's brain. "Okay. Why are you saying my name almost every sentence?"

Harry looked slightly nonplussed for a moment. Then he replied, "Well, Ron, you have such a lovely name, just like you, of course. So I try to use it as much as possible, Ron. Don't you agree?" He directed the last question to Hermione.

Ron looked to Hermione, hoping that she would be sane, unlike Harry. She just looked between the pair of them with a hint of irritation before going back to her homework.

Harry sighed contentedly as Ron ran his long fingers through his hair, trying to make sense of Harry's behaviour.

"Oh, Ron," he cooed, "I wish my hair was as wonderful as yours. It's just so perfect!" He looked like he could cry from happiness at any second.

Now Hermione looked a little horrified. Ron shot her a look that screamed, 'Help me!!!' She simply shook her head in disbelief.

"Are you feeling ok, Harry?"

A look of disgust and confusion crossed Harry's features before it relaxed back into vacant worship of all that was Ron. "I'm fine," he assured them.

"I think we should take him to the hospital wing," Ron whispered to Hermione.

"Agreed," she whispered back.

"Harry," Ron said with the biggest, least panicked smile that he could muster pasted onto his face, "do you want to come with me somewhere?"

Harry looked between Hermione and Ron with a look of contemplation temporarily replacing the adoration. "Only if Hermione stays here," Harry said. "I want you all to myself."

Harry's face split into a wide, worshipful grin as he looked into Ron's face. Ron could feel the panic rising in him.

"Erk."

His face began turning red and he started to choke and cough alternately. Harry began to look concerned.

"All right, Ron. I'm taking you to Madam Pomfrey...no need for my Ronniekins to be ill."

Ron realized that this was actually perfect. Harry would be bringing himself to the hospital wing. Then, when Ron had a moment alone with Madam Pomfrey, he would tell her all about Harry's odd behaviour. So, Ron simply nodded, continued choking and coughing and let Harry lead him through the halls.

They rounded on the large double doors to the hospital wing and Harry abruptly stopped dead in his tracks. He put a restraining hand on Ron's shoulder and waited for his friend to stop. Harry looked to his friend with an upset look in his eyes.

"You weren't going to let me open the door for you," he said in a voice that quaked slightly from being so distraught. "What sort of man am I to let you open a door on your own?"

Ron sighed and shook his head. "Go ahead, Harry," he said witheringly.

Harry darted in front of him and pulled the heavy door open. Ron saw him watch him all the way in and felt very odd as his best friend looked torn between admiring the view of Ron's rear and running away gibbering in disgust.

What the hell was wrong with Harry? No matter. He strode to Madam Pomfrey.

"I need to speak to you-"

"Oh it was awful, Madam Pomfrey! He was coughing and choking and turning red and I just didn't know what to do! Please help him."

Ron stared at Harry and continued, "-alone."

The woman arched an eyebrow at Harry and nodded to Ron. She shooed Harry out into the hallway and turned to the distraught redhead.

"What on earth is the matter, Mr. Weasley?" the nurse asked peevishly.

"Well," Ron floundered slightly. He wasn't sure what to say. 'My best friend is suddenly acting like I have beer flavoured nipples'? Lacks some finesse. 'Harry suddenly wants to get into my pants. What's wrong with him?' No, that was just crass.

Finally, Ron decided the best way to word his confounding conundrum: "My best friend appears to have gone completely mental; screaming off the deep end; one card short of a full deck; a sandwich short of a picnic; a chip short of a buttie; a..."

"I get the idea, Mr. Weasley."

"Well?" he asked. "What can I do?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, you are a fairly attractive young man." She obviously checked Ron out. "I don't find it odd that Mr. Potter, with whom you are so close in the first place, would find himself attracted to you."

Ron's mouth dropped open in shock. First of all, Pomfrey...checking him out?! He gagged a bit. Secondly, this was HARRY!

"Harry's not a fag! Not a homosexual, a flamer, a pillow biter, donut puncher, butt bandit, boatman on the chocolate love canal-"

"I get the idea, Mr. Weasley," she said in irritation.

"It suddenly happened," Ron whined. "It's like he woke up this morning and decided 'I'm here and I'm queer'. It's just not like Harry!"

"Mister Weasley," Pomfrey explained patiently, "adolescence is a very confusing time. Occasionally people feel these feelings..."

"Did you read my letters too?" he said accusingly.

Pomfrey looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "As I say, Mr Weasley, you are an attractive lad."

'What is this?' he thought wildly. 'We heart Ron day?'

"Look," he said through gritted teeth, "Harry would not like me like that. I know this because I know who he fancies and it's a GIRL. There's something WRONG with Harry. Maybe someone poisoned him. I don't know! Holy madness, woman! Give me a bloody hand here!"

The older woman looked at him with a shocked expression which then eased into a wicked smile. "You look like such a bad boy when you say things like that...ordering me around and all. I will see what I can do. In the meantime, do not use such language in front of Hogwarts staff!" She winked at him and went to retrieve Harry.

Ron shook his head and blew an exasperated breath from his mouth. He had no clue why he was suddenly so alluring--not only to the opposite sex, but also to the same sex-- to everyone apart from Hermione.

"How perfectly appropriate," he muttered sarcastically.

Harry and Pomfrey walked back into the room. Each was whispering animatedly to the other and shooting knowing looks Ron's way.

Ron felt the urge to cry. Instead he gave them both dirty looks.

"Well, I'm feeling fine now, so I'll just be off. No, Harry, don't come with me. Madam Pomfrey needs to talk with you."

He headed to where he hoped Hermione would be: in the Library, searching for something to help.

Hermione was stationed at her usual table with a thick tome balanced precariously on several other thick books. What was unusual in this scenario, however, was that she was not even looking at the book. In fact, she was more interested in talking to Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"Damn that strong jawed, bookish Ravenclaw to the fiery pits of hell!" Ron murmured passionately.

He walked up behind Hermione, placed his hand on her shoulder and glared at Justin. He felt her jump slightly under his hand.

"Hey, Hermione. Harry's talking to Pomfrey. Have you found anything?" As an intended afterthought he added, "Oh, hi Justin."

Justin burbled non-sensically. 'Apparently,' Ron thought evilly, 'being tall pays off in the scariness stakes.'

Hermione looked at Ron with a puzzled look on her face. Ron's expression gave nothing away.

"There's something in this book about love potions," Hermione said distantly as she watched Justin wander off. "The only thing is that love potions are utterly illegal and don't give symptoms like Harry's."

He sat down next to Hermione. Completely lost in thought, he left his hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Well, it's not really like he's in love with me, Hermione. It's more like..."

"Obsession."

"Yes, that."

He looked at Hermione. She had a thoughtful expression and was staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly she stood.

"I'll be right back."

Sure enough, she returned moments later with a book clasped in her hands. "I think this is the one that we're looking for. I'll take it to Potions and sneak a look at it when Snape's not looking."

"Potions? How can you worry about Potions at a time like this?" Ron crowed, looking like he was on the verge of hysteria.

"Because if we're late then we'll get detention and never sort this out," she told him with a matter of fact smile on her face.

Ron sighed. The two of them went back to the Common Room and fetched their books for class.