The Master Plan

Chapter 16: A Kiss is but a Kiss; A Tongue-Lashing is Something Else Entirely

Hermione managed to get Harry alone the next morning, and he looked interestedly at her, sure she had had some new idea about the previous evening. He was surprised when she immediately began to rebuke him for his conduct with Snape. "Honestly, Harry, if you keep acting like that, Ron's going to figure it out. EVERYONE will figure it out; you can't just THROW yourself on the man like that! It was embarrassing, really. Do you have any idea how bad it looked; you spread-eagle on top of him like that? Stop making a fool of yourself over him!"

Harry's face burned, and he slouched in his seat, feeling defensive. "You know perfectly well I'd be making a fool of myself, anyway. At least this way I can say I was doing it for a reason. And anyway, what would you know? You never had any problem getting Ron to look at you. At least Snape looked at me, I mean; at least I really got his attention last night."

Hermione covered her eyes with her hands, looking wound up. "Please, Harry. Just be. Just tone it down a little. Stop thinking so much about it; there's something funny going on around here, and you need to stay sharp. What happened last night has got to be significant in some way. I mean; crystal balls don't just blow up on their own. We have to find out what's going on."

Harry was determined to wring every last detail of the previous night's events out of the Potions Master. He gritted his teeth all through his lessons, wishing time would just have mercy on him and PASS, already. Ron and Hermione looked much the same, tapping their fingers on their desks, giving each other impatient looks, unable to concentrate for any of the other teachers. There had been no explanation given for the night before, just an announcement that Divination was canceled until further notice.

Lavender looked like she could cry at the news, but most of the Gryffindors were quite pleased. First they had gotten out of Potions for two months, and now they would not have to face Trelawney for an undetermined amount of time. The atmosphere in the common room was cheerful, as though someone had granted a special holiday. Harry wished he could be as happy as everyone else, but he really wished he could pay a visit to the North Tower and find out what happened. Whatever it was, he was fairly certain it wasn't cause for celebration.

When they finally trooped into the Transfiguration room that night, eager to pry all of the off-the-record details out of their professor, they stopped short in the doorway. "Well. The prodigal sons return," Snape confronted them frostily. "Am I expected to be pleased to see you? Hmm?" He suddenly loomed above them, eyes crackling with fury, every line in his body ablaze with suppressed magical energy.

Harry found it abruptly difficult to catch his breath. "We. We--I'm sorry we didn't listen to you, sir," he managed to say in a breathy voice, eyes big behind his new glasses. He reached a hand to the collar of his robes, which he attempted to loosen discreetly.

Snape stared at him, looking rather thrown. "Yes. Well. Be that as it may," he continued, noticeably flustered, "not *only* did you manage to completely disregard my orders, you went and left me with quite a mess." He was building up steam again, and Ron and Hermione, sensing that Harry was the only one with the ability to deter the man, stepped quickly behind their friend. Snape began to yell, gesturing wildly, arms thrown wide in exasperation. "I came back here to find you three didn't even make the goddamn ATTEMPT to repair the destruction in this room. Several of the chairs could not be salvaged--not even with magic, Potter, and the replacements came right out of my pay. WHICH, I assure you, is pitiful enough as it is, without any additional expense tacked on! And do you have any IDEA of how difficult this shambles was to explain to McGonagall!? I cannot think of a SINGLE GOOD REASON for continuing to tutor you considering the DEPLORABLE, god-awful, incredibly barbarous, completely inexcusable behaviour of this nefarious threesome!"

"We'll make it up to you!" Harry squeaked desperately. He grabbed hold of one of the teacher's arms, trying to hold it still and calm the man down. "I'll pay! I'll pay you back, out of my own pockets! I promise! Please don't stop teaching us! It was all my fault, I'll take responsibility! Punish me however you like, only please, please say you'll still tutor us! You can make me clean bedpans! You can force me to help with your potions! You can make me your house elf and force me to clean your own personal chambers! You can humiliate me and degrade me all you want in front of Malfoy and I won't even complain! You can--"

Snape jerked his arm away and glared at the youth, once again seeming to get disconcerted, his normally sallow face looking feverish and pink. "Stop it, Potter," he hissed, wrapping his arms around himself almost defensively. "You're gibbering like a confused monkey."

Ron and Hermione were watching this with open mouths. Ron was shaking his head in befuddlement. "Harry," he whispered hoarsely, "WHAT is WRONG with you? Good grief, man! Stop falling all over yourself, it's just Snape! We don't need him that badly! Try to have a little dignity, would you?"

"Shut up, Weasley," Snape retorted bitingly. "Get to your bleeding wall and do your bleeding punishment, and stop blustering about as though you've a right. You're quite the most revolting creature I've ever seen, and my patience has worn so thin, I doubt I'll be able to stop myself from dismembering you the next time you open your mouth. And there will be no Occlumency and no lessons tonight. You'll do your blasted walls from start to finish; you fully deserve it, and anyway I'm too unnerved to bother with your asininity tonight." The man sounded so livid and so unhinged that Ron did not test him further, and all three students rushed to get to their walls when he pointed at them.

Harry found himself hastily scribbling, 'PROFESSOR SNAPE IS NOT MADE OF MONEY,' too afraid to turn and check how Hermione was progressing on her, 'PROFESSOR SNAPE IS NOT MY MAID,' (which was partially her own decision, as she had refused to put 'house elf') or Ron's vengefully awarded, 'I DO NOT OWN THE PLACE.' Harry was on edge, listening to Snape pacing and growling about 'Intolerable, ungrateful, cheeky, cocksure, miserable little beasts,' at one end of the room, and just making out Ron muttering, 'Unpleasant, overbearing, self-righteous, belligerent, ruthless bastard' at the other. He didn't think his nerves could take much more of this. Harry was just sure that any moment Ron was going to go too far, and Snape was going to go spare, and there would be bloodshed and mayhem and possibly the total meltdown of Professor McGonagall's classroom.

Every time Ron picked up speed or his voice rose, Hermione would hiss something quelling, and Ron would settle down. Harry was inordinately thankful of this, and tried to do his best in turn to placate Snape by mouthing, 'I'm sorry,' and 'please don't kill us,' whenever he saw the man looking at him. Judging by the deepening scowl on the man's face, it wasn't really helpful.

At the end of the detention, Hermione dragged Ron quickly from the room, while Harry hesitantly approached the professor. "Um. I'd just like to say again that I'm sincerely sorry about making such a mess of things. Er. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you? I mean; I could help you grade the first years' papers or something. Come on. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to GO AWAY, Mister Potter. I want you to shut your mouth, stop that ceaseless groveling and for Merlin's sake LEAVE ME IN PEACE. Why you'd think I'd want to remain in your company and hear that stomach-turning drivel I'm sure I don't know. The only thing you could possibly give me of any value would be your absence," Snape huffed.

Harry reeled. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Feeling like his stomach had dropped out of his body, or that the bottom had dropped out of his world, he stumbled backwards a few steps, as though Snape had struck him. Possibly, he looked as awful as he felt, because when Snape glanced up, his eyes widened a bit. The teacher flushed and looked even angrier than before, and hunkered down in his seat. So much for reassurances, then. Harry left, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, ignoring how his eyes were stinging. He had to be a fool to think anything had changed. Snape still completely loathed him.

He didn't run into Ron or Hermione on the way back to the tower, but he was too distraught to care. He faltered his way back to his room and threw himself down on the bed. God, how completely humiliating.

The next day, as he was listlessly moving his breakfast around on his plate, Hermione gave him the bad news. She and Ron had been caught after they'd sneaked into the Astronomy Tower after detention. Apparently, Snape had given Filch the Repellant Potion after all, and they poured Anti-repellant Potion on the doors every morning. But, as both Filch and Snape had admitted, Hermione was one of the few people who could overcome such a barrier herself, and she'd evidently decided to do so.

Harry was dumbfounded. "Why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?" he demanded, shocked. He wasn't sure which part of her story was the craziest; the way she'd broken the rules, the way she acted completely unrepentant, or the fact that she was in the Astronomy Tower.

"Well, I had to, Harry," she told him in a matter of fact voice. "Ron was ready to go up in flames. And Snape would have happily added fuel to the fire. If I didn't drag him out of there and get him thoroughly distracted, we'd still be scraping bits of them off the walls." She shrugged, picking one of Harry's strawberries off his plate and popping it in her mouth. "So anyway, after we left last night, how did it go?"

Harry winced. "Well. You could probably guess. Disaster-prone Potter did it again." He gave a self-mocking smile. "At least I know conclusively how Snape really feels about me." He gave his waffle a vicious stab with his fork.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione put an arm around him. "What did you do?"

He raised his shoulders a little. "Nothing. I just offered to make it up to him, and he told me how utterly repulsive he found me, and basically that he'd rather be coated with steak sauce and tossed into a vat of rabid sharks than spend another ten minutes in my company. You know, the usual."

"Oh, Harry," she repeated sadly. "I'm sorry. You do realize that it wasn't a very likely match, though. I mean, ANYONE with Snape is implausible; the only reason you didn't win his heart is that he hasn't GOT one. Look, it'll get better. I promise."

He gave her a bitter smile and went back to picking at his food. "Mind if I join you guys tonight in your detention with Filch? It's my fault, as always, that you got in trouble, and I highly doubt Snape will be anything but relieved if I don't show up in his class."

"All right, Harry," she agreed unexpectedly. "And anyways, it'll serve him right. If he wanted the DADA job so badly, he could at least be human to the one person who actually wanted him to teach it. Maybe after he hasn't a chance to teach it anymore, he'll realize what a...what a..." she groped for a suitably horrible word, "what a complete tosser he's being." She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled, causing Harry to smile a little and roll his eyes.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't place any bets on it. I'm guessing the only thing he'll think on the subject is 'So long and good riddance.'"

That night, the three of them were cleaning the boys' urinals on the second floor (much to Hermione's mortification), but still chatting and trying to make the best of it. Filch glared on, reveling in the faces they pulled as they suffered through the awful task. About an hour into the detention, they heard a familiar voice at the door.

"I was under the impression," the chilly tone wafted in, "that Mister Potter would still be spending *his* detention with *me.*"

Harry glanced up to see Snape, arms crossed, lips pinched. He decided he was too miserable to be frightened of the man. He just didn't have room for any other emotion. He gave an indifferent shrug. "I honestly prefer Filch and his toilets," he replied coolly.

Snape blinked. "However that may be, your punishment is not yours to choose. Come with me, Mister Potter." He did that sweeping turn Harry had always thought so impressive and stalked out of the room.

"'Bye, guys," Harry told them glumly, and rose to follow.

Neither of them said a word as they walked away from the bathroom, and Harry, in truth, had no great desire to ever say anything to the man again. Snape was leading him away from McGonagall's room, but Harry was too apathetic to take an interest. Even when he realized where they were headed, his curiosity only flared for a moment, before falling back into cold despair. So what if Snape wanted to hang about in the North Tower? That was his business, and Harry wasn't going to say a word. He knew damn well Snape wasn't going to answer any questions, anyway.

"Up the ladder," Snape ordered, and Harry acquiesced passively. When they reached the room, which was empty of both crystal balls and the shards that had remained of them, Snape looked at him sharply. "I suppose you're wondering what we're doing here."

Harry gave a dispirited shrug, and looked at the man lifelessly. "Not really," he responded quietly. He went and sat down in one of Trelawney's chairs, looking out the window and doing his best to ignore the man.

Snape was immobile for a couple of moments, before he found his voice. "Snap out of it, Potter. I suppose you realize how immature it is, to sit there and sulk like that?"

Harry felt a flicker of annoyance. "I'm not sulking," he answered calmly. "I'm just trying to stay out of your way, and not bother you with questions you don't want to answer."

"Well. Then." Snape didn't seem to know how to deal with this. A rampantly stupid Potter was more familiar. A subdued, cautious Potter was completely unknown. "I don't know why I should bother trying to impart knowledge if you're just going to stare absently out the window," he said finally.

"All right," Harry responded, as though that was an end of it.

"What do you mean, 'all right,' you annoying whelp? You're still staring out the window."

Harry sighed and turned to face him. "All right, you don't have to teach us anymore. All right? There. All settled." He turned away again, looking somehow fragile in the moonlight. "I know we've been a lot of trouble, and you don't enjoy it," he paused, but when the man didn't interrupt, he continued, "and we don't enjoy it, either. You're not a very good teacher, you know." He thought Snape may have made a sound at that, but he wasn't sure. "And we're not very good students, either. Obviously, there's a gaping rift between you and the rest of us, and none of us are capable of bridging it. There's such an utter lack of understanding on both sides that it's ridiculous. And I have too many other things going on in my life to make this kind of effort--we're all of us beating our head against a brick wall; it doesn't do any good. The sensible thing to do to here would be to know when to quit. So that's what I think we ought to do. We'll go back to doing lines every night, and you don't have to bother with us. Or we can all go to detentions with Filch, and you don't even have to lay eyes on us if you don't want to. All right? Satisfied? A good solution, don't you think?" Snape still didn't say anything, and Harry rested his head on his arm, feeling a few tears leak out.

"You are just--just--far too thin-skinned, Mister Potter," the professor finally stammered at him. "You go and blow up my classroom, blow up McGonagall's classroom, get me into all kinds of trouble, and then you expect me to be cheerful and encouraging about it? I've never been cheerful or encouraging about anything. This is so. Very like you, is all I can say. How dreadfully maudlin and delicate you are. And so much for that Gryffindor stubbornness you show off at every turn. You're just unwilling to exert yourself, aren't you?"

"Yes, that must be it," Harry snuffled a little. "Whatever you say." If Snape was trying to goad him into arguing, it wouldn't work. There just wasn't any fight in him tonight.

The Potions Master gave a loud, irritated sigh. "You once told me that you didn't want anyone to baby you. Does this still hold true?" Harry forwent a response. "For pity's sake, will you stop it? Stop it," he repeated, as Harry wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I absolutely cannot--here, take my handkerchief." He grabbed Harry's chin and roughly wiped away the tears. Somewhere along the way, the touch turned into a caress. Harry gazed up at the man with large, hurt eyes. "Damn it, Potter, you of all people ought to know that I have a...certain abrasiveness to my character. I cannot simply wish my bad temper away. If you're going to do stupid things, like follow me into dangerous situations after I've expressly told you not to, you've got to expect a tongue-lashing in return. It wasn't as though I meant anything by it. Idiot boy, I was worried about you," he finally admitted, sounding somewhat bitter. Harry was so surprised that he jerked back, away from Severus's hand. They stared at each other for several minutes. The Potions Master muttered something, turning away.

"What?" Harry whispered.

"I said I'm sorry!" the man snapped, stuffing his handkerchief back in his pocket. "Idiot. And don't expect to ever hear it again!"

Harry covered a smile with his hand. It wasn't exactly roses and poetry, but in Harry's mind, sweeter words could not have been said. Severus had been worried about him. That's why he was irritable afterward. And he hadn't meant it, after all. Yet Harry felt like there was something he still needed to know. "Do you hate me?" he asked softly, seriously. "Still, I mean? Like you did in first year? Like you hated my father?"

Severus rolled his eyes, annoyed to be caught up in Harry's sentimental neediness. "Oh, stop being stupid, Potter. I don't hate you. I don't...dislike you as I used to, and I never hated you. I did have to attempt it, you know. Act it out. One would think by now your tepid brain might have muddled through to a reason. Have I not told you how very skilled the Dark Lord is at Legilimency? I could not afford a fond thought of you. I could hardly afford a memory where I was kind to you, where I was pleasant. And I sure as hell could not afford for Malfoy junior to go running home to tell Daddy Death Eater that I was nice to or felt affection for Harry Potter. Now. Is that enough sharing for one night? Will you stop your sniveling so we can get on with it?"

Harry nodded shyly, and had just opened his mouth to inquire why they'd come to the North Tower, when a voice interrupted him.

"No, Minerva, I heard voices, I tell you! Death Eaters! They've broken my balls and now they're back for more!" Trelawney's screechy rant came up the stairs, and Harry stared at Severus, alarmed. Where would they go?

Snape gestured to a small door nearby, and Harry hurriedly followed him inside. He found himself scrunched against the Potions Master in what seemed to be a small closet. A fur coat that actually wriggled kept trying to wrap itself around him. He shoved at it, grunting a little, and found Snape's hand over his mouth. He froze, shocked. It was too dark to see in the closet, but he was sure Snape could feel the rising heat on his face. Severus quickly took his hand away, and Harry wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

"You see, Sybil? There is absolutely no one here. You were dreaming--of the future or something," Professor McGonagall told her placatingly. "Look, not even a dormouse. Now will you get back to bed?"

"I heard someone, I tell you! Perhaps they're in the closet!"

"Oh, yes," McGonagall said scathingly. "Voldemort and his Death Eaters exploded your crystal, infiltrated your room, are here to take over the castle, I shouldn't doubt, but then they heard us and decided to hide in the closet. Perfectly reasonable."

"I don't see why no one ever believes me," they heard Trelawney complaining, but her voice was getting further away.

"...need to get some sleep," McGonagall responded, her voice quite faint now.

Harry shifted a little, but Snape stopped him with a quick touch. They would not move until they were sure. As they waited, Harry began to fantasize again. He had never been so close to the man for so long before. The Potions Master smelled nice, clean, but faintly of musk. Harry raised his head a little, breathing in the man's scent. He wondered what it would be like to hold him. To touch him. A little, devilish voice in his head was chanting, 'touch him, touch him, go on, touch him.' When he felt Snape shift a little, getting ready to say they could go, he reached up in the darkness until he felt the man's face. He felt Snape freeze, but the man didn't pull away, so Harry slowly moved his hand, stroking the man's cheek.

"What do you think you're doing, Mister Potter?" Snape finally said.

"I. Um. You had...something on your face," Harry said hopefully, biting his lip.

"Potter, how the hell could you possibly tell if I had something on my face?" the man said with heated annoyance. "It's as black as seven hells in here."

Sheepishly, Harry gave a shrug. "Oh, well," he sighed. "At least I got you to look at me."

"Once again, how the hell could I do that? Make reference to my comment regarding the blackness of seven hells, if you would." He didn't sound upset, merely as irritable as he usually was.

Harry smiled a little. He had to. The urge to do something was reaching overwhelming proportions; he felt like he was riding on the tip of a tidal wave. Before he could lose his nerve (this would take nerve, but he was a Gryffindor, he was up to the challenge) he gripped the man's shoulder with one hand, and used his other to firmly take Severus's chin and turn his face down to Harry. The Potions Master was quite tall, so Harry had to stand on his toes, as he leaned forward and swiftly pressed his lips to the teacher's.

Harry was positive that this was going to result in another stream of, 'What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter? What the hell is wrong with you? Get off of me! Six thousand points from Gryffindor for sexually assaulting a teacher,' but, to his surprise, the man didn't even pull away. For a long, teetering moment, which felt as though it was balanced on the edge of a precipice, waiting for one tiny nudge to fall and fail forever, neither of them moved. Then, softly, Harry felt a return pressure pulling on his own lips. He was astonished. It might be faint, it might be chaste, but Severus Snape was kissing him back. The darkness around them was the colour of music, the silence a symphony of sparks. It was so much more than Harry had hoped for, and he threw his arms around the man's neck, letting his knees go weak, letting himself hang from the Potions Master's lips. Severus had not returned the embrace, but Harry dimly thought that he could feel fingers ghosting across his hair, so light that they just barely brushed past the locks, feathering them like a breeze.

Before Harry could get used to the kiss, (as though Harry could ever get used to the kiss!) another noise came from the classroom. A loud thump, and then they heard McGonagall exclaim wordlessly. Severus put his hands on Harry's shoulders and forcefully pressed down, breaking the kiss. Harry wanted to groan at the loss of contact, but knew he could not, and settled for a soft, inaudible sigh. God damn Professor McGonagall! If he wasted away and died tonight, it was entirely due to the Transfiguration teacher's terrible timing.

They heard her poke and prod around a bit, letting herself really investigate, now that Trelawney was not hanging on her arm. She never came near the closet. Finally, she seemed satisfied, and they heard her descend the latter, muttering about how a woman Sybil's age should not be allowed to act as though she owned a treehouse.

When she was well and truly gone, Snape took a deep breath and opened the door a crack. "What just happened, Mister Potter, falls under the category of 'It doesn't get spoken about ever, ever, ever, and if you bring it up I will cut out your tongue and force you to ingest it, making you the first man to ever taste the inside of his own stomach.' Understood?"

"Yuck!" Harry exclaimed, making a face. "God, Severus, that was graphic. I mean; gross!" The word 'man' echoed in his ears. Snape ducked out of the closet, and Harry unhappily followed, cursing all Transfiguration teachers under his breath.