The Master Plan

Chapter 20: It All Gets a Little Worse, or a Little Better, Depending on How You See it

Harry and the other guys carried Padma--Cleopatra--into the common room on a litter. It was painted gold, cushioned with silk, and very heavy. They enchanted it to be lighter, but Harry rather felt that if he collapsed from the weight it would still be the least of his problems. Sure, like a broken back was worse than walking into a ROOM FULL OF SIXTH AND SEVENTH YEAR STUDENTS, while wearing a skirt, make-up, and a crooked wig. He could feel his face ready to burst into flames. Everyone stared when they made their entrance.

Draco Malfoy had to be picked up off the floor and set on a couch, still overcome by hysterical laughter. "Potter the p-p-pillow-biter!" he exclaimed with glee, gasping for breath. "Oh, God, this is the best thing that's ever happened to me! Someone find Colin Creevey and his camera!"

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Harry replied heatedly.

"Bloody HELL!" Ron exclaimed. "Is that HARRY?!" Harry immediately protested that this was not his idea, only he couldn't get out of it without Padma magically removing some of his more vital organs. Ron recovered a little, and even managed to give Harry a pat on the shoulder, but he still looked really upset.

Hermione just took his wig off, as she said it wasn't the right length of hair for him, and made him look a bit of a twat. Then she grinned and said he looked very sexy. Glam, she called it. Both Harry and Ron were completely taken aback by that. To Harry's utter astonishment, there were other girls at the party who seemed of like mind, and acted quite coyly toward the slaves. Of course, Padma chased them off with her scepter, but it wasn't as though Harry had been particularly interested, anyway. They weren't the sort of people he wished to spend time with. No one here was. There was only one person he wanted to be near, and that man happened to be...

Standing by the punch bowl.

Severus Snape was the chaperone for the party. Oh, God, merciful God, strike me down now, before he sees me. Harry wasn't red at all anymore. He was white as sugar, eyes contrasting darkly with his face, even more than they normally would have because of the dramatic make-up. He put one hand to his chest, sure his heart had given up and shut down this time, but his palm told him it was going faster and more forcefully than ever.

And then it rose in his throat, because Severus Snape looked up and saw him. For a moment, the man's face was completely blank. Then the mouth dropped open a little, and the eyebrows rose incredulously, and he began to take on a faint pink tinge. Then he seemed to recollect himself, and his mouth snapped shut, and his face shut down. And that beautiful black, elegant brow rose once more. He looked as though poise was his middle name.

Harry wanted to keel over and die. Whatever happened after tonight, he swore he'd find himself a Time-Turner, and go back and fix this somehow. Only he hadn't, or he'd have known, wouldn't he? Fuck. He'd do it anyway. He tensed as Snape approached him, the most arrogant, malicious smile on his face. He was going to speak to Harry. Harry could imagine the scalding, derisive flood he'd let loose. Fate was a cruel bitch, indeed.

But Snape's eyes went past Harry. The man actually gave a slight bow, well, more an inclination of the head, than anything, but the body followed just a little. "Miss Patil," he said smoothly. "I see you've taken my minor counsel as to the costumes. Might I congratulate you on your good sense and excellent decision-making skills? I almost have the impulse to tell you how you would have thrived in Slytherin." He smiled like a snake, and Harry's blood ran cold.

"Why, thank you, Professor Snape," she replied lazily, "as you can see, I followed your advice to the letter. Oh, hello, Lavender!" She patted the litter beside her, which was being magically held up by Ernie. "Come sit with me. Isn't this party divine?" They broke down into giggles and gossip and other girlish behavior.

"YOU?" Harry croaked at the man. "YOU dressed me like this? How could you DO that to me? You were the one who gave Padma this--this--disgusting, debasing, this, this--"

"Extremely witty, crafty, devious idea? Why yes, I did, Potter. And you might just want to watch your tone. I'm not entirely certain why, but I rather have the urge to be stricter than usual with you." His eyes were very bright, and Harry caught his breath. The man's face was painted with its common smirk.

"I can't believe you would do this to me. You think this is funny, don't you?" Harry accused, and the man laughed softly. "Ohhh...You'll get yours one day, Severus Snape. You'd better just. Just. Look out. I don't care what it takes, I WILL get you back for this." Harry was seething.

Severus yawned at him. "Yes, yes. Dungbombs and the like, I'm sure." He leered at Harry, completely unimpressed.

"Why. Did. You. DO THIS TO ME?" A lot of people turned to look at Harry, who had Snape by his lapels--or would have done, if Snape HAD lapels--and had his angry, snarling face pressed right up into the Potions Masters.

"Oh, really Potter, you are very dull. You're never going to have vengeance, you know. You're neither as evil nor as creative as I am. And as for why..." He leaned over so that his mouth was less than an inch from Harry's ear. "Perhaps it's all just a conspiracy to get you into a skirt." The man sniggered softly. "And maybe next time you'll think twice before instigating explosions in my dungeons." He pulled away and went gliding back to the punch bowl to wait for someone to try to put something other than punch in it. They always did; they were so unoriginal.

Harry fumed. How dare he turn Harry into a walking illustration for 'Slave Boys Monthly?' Growling a little, he stomped his way over to Severus. "Give it back," he demanded.

"Give what back?" the man replied, eyeing Harry's bare legs. They were quite well muscled, must be all the Quidditch. The Hogwarts dress code usually had everyone in flowing robes. While it did allow Severus to flutter and undulate grandly, it often meant that one went for months at a time without seeing more skin than showed on the face, neck, and what bits of wrists, hands or fingers generally managed to poke out of the sleeves of the students. Which was the point, really. They were at an age where temptation was best averted.

"My dignity," Harry expounded. "I don't care what you have to do, you make it so I don't go home a laughingstock tonight. Is that understood?" He trembled with rage and Severus stood there with a cool countenance, and gave a slight chuckle. "BUGGER YOU, SNAPE!" Harry burst out in quite a loud voice, fists itching. The room went silent.

Snape suddenly stopped laughing, and his eyes narrowed in on Harry. His face was dark and his eyes were smoldering. "Right, Potter." He seemed to be breathing heavily. "You're for it, now." Before Harry could do more than squeak in response, the Potions Master grabbed him by the arm and hauled him out the door.

They were halfway to the dungeons before Harry realized that no one was coming after him. Where were Ron and Hermione? He dimly remembered them having drifted off just after Hermione'd called him glam...maybe they'd gone to find a place to snog or something. In which case, they were well hidden and didn't even know Harry was gone.

"W-What are you going to do to me?" Harry managed to stutter, as Snape practically threw him into the Potions Lab. Harry stumbled, but managed to keep his feet.

"I don't know, Mister Potter. What do you think a proper punishment for one who has over-stepped the bounds of proper student conduct, not to mention risked my neck and his own by behaving with FAR TOO GREAT a familiarity toward his professor and malefactor? Think carefully, Mister Potter. Do you have any idea how many children just witnessed you clutching at me, swearing at me, and demanding expiation, as though you had a right?" Harry winced. Draco Malfoy had been there, watching him rant and rave at Snape. He remembered shouting things like, 'How could you?' and 'I can't believe you would do this to me.' What was Draco to make out of that? Snape was right. "I see you're beginning to take my point," the man added angrily. "Now. How do you think the other students will have expected me to react to that? Hmm? Would Severus Snape--who hates Harry Potter with a venom long known--the terror of Slytherin, the bane of all Hogwarts' students existence, the likeliest candidate in the school to take the Dark Mark, let Harry Potter return from his presence after that performance unscathed?"

"N-no, surely not," Harry admitted. "They'd expect you to rip me to pieces. Very small ones." He swallowed. "W-w. What are we going to do?"

"Turn around, Mister Potter." With a block of ice forming in his stomach, Harry did so. "Place both hands on the desk, Mister Potter." Wow. Snape wasn't going to...er. No. There was another possibility. Perhaps he was so mad he'd actually...surely not! Harry was going on seventeen, nearing manhood! No one would expect him to take something like that, especially since--THWACK! Harry rose up on his toes for a moment, in shock and stinging pain.

"As much as it might insult your dignity, Mister Potter, the combination of social discomfiture and physical distress might just be enough--" THWACK! "--to help you to remember that when we are in a public place, you are to have control over your tongue." THWACK! Harry's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, but the pain was not unbearable. He wondered what Snape was hitting him with. Not a paddle, too long and thin, too hard for a whip. He tried to think about it, and nothing else. It wasn't quite intolerable. It wouldn't take long to get that way, but right now it was happening too fast, and the sharp burn that accompanied each blow was quickly followed by tingling numbness. ...And accelerated heartbeat, and confusion, and anticipation, and-- THWACK! "We are NOT playing a GAME, you stupid child. And if we LOSE," THWACK! "--we DIE." Now the pain was setting in. He wished to God Padma had let him wear pants. There were going to be MARKS from this. "You will NOT forget this lesson. In PUBLIC, I am your ENEMY." THWACK! Harry's whole body seemed to flinch from that one. 'His wand. He's...er...spanking me with his wand,' Harry thought in a daze. He bit his lips as hard as he could, trying to concentrate on the one pain instead of the other. And better on the pain than on the...he really wished his tunic weren't quite so short. Snape was going to see-- "Now. Until I am sure you won't forget. 'I will not accost my professor in public.'" THWACK! "Your turn, Mister Potter."

"I will not accost my professor in public," Harry rasped. THWACK!

"Again."

"I will not accost --"THWACK! "--m-my professor in public." Bloody hell, it was ten times worse when it was unexpected. He tried to brace himself.

"Again, Potter."

"I will not ac--" THWACK! Grunt. "--accost-my-professor-in-public," he managed to wheeze between clenched teeth. He didn't wait for Snape's 'again.' "I will not accost my professor in public." THWACK!

"That's more than ten, Mister Potter. Do you think the lesson has been firmly impressed on your...mind, yet?" Harry merely whimpered. "Very well, then. Do not let it happen again." Harry heard the man's steps walking away, and wondered remotely if he was expected to leave now. He let go of the desk, and let his shaking legs slowly collapse under him, until he was kneeling on the floor. It occurred to him that he couldn't very well sit, so he curled up in fetal position, removing his glasses to wipe away a few stray tears. That had bloody-well hurt! The first couple of strikes hadn't been too bad, they were even kind of...but by the end! His had been on fire. He heard a slight noise, and opened his eyes to see a blurry hand holding a glass of something in front of him. "Take it, Potter," Snape's voice instructed. "But start with a small sip."

Harry tried to find a position that would allow him to drink without aggravating his soreness. He put his glasses back on and looked down. There wasn't very much in the glass. He looked up questioningly, but Snape was drinking from his own glass, which had rather more in it. Harry cautiously raised the cup to his lips and took a mouthful. Uck. He swallowed hastily and coughed a little. Gods, liquid fire! He felt the heat melt its way down his throat toward his stomach, the warmth branching out into his chest. First burnt at one end and then at the other! He coughed again, and asked, "What potion was THAT?"

He saw Snape's lips jerk in reflex. "That was no potion, you dolt. Considering your tremendous lack of cultivation, I think perhaps I shouldn't have wasted the good brandy on you." He gave a disparaging sniff and turned his attention back to his own glass.

"Brandy?" Harry repeated, giving the dark amber liquid another consideration. "Really?" he took another sip, careful not to cough this time. It still stung, and he couldn't help but pull a face. Nasty stuff. He swigged another mouthful. Brandy! Well. How do you like that? He'd always wondered what the big deal was about hard liquor. "Brandy. Huh."

"Has anyone ever told you, Potter, that you're..." Snape stared at him for a while, like he couldn't find the word. That was unusual. Harry looked at him expectantly. 'What?' He wondered. 'Stupid? Obnoxious? Stubborn? Maddening?' "...irrepressible? I beat the living daylights out of you not ten minutes ago, and now you're quaffing my exceptionally expensive brandy as though it's chocolate milk." He shook his head. He took another large swallow from his own glass, and Harry noticed how much lower the liquid had gotten since he'd started. The man was frowning into it as though the container had been throwing accusations at him.

Harry drained his glass and looked at the bottom, wishing there were more. He felt really warm, now. And it didn't matter if he couldn't sit down for a few days. That had been closer to a sexual fantasy coming true than anything he'd ever experienced. And he wouldn't be thinking this way, he imagined, if not for the brandy. "Professor?" he asked timidly. "May I have a little more?" Snape started, coming out of his brown study. With a wry look, he leaned over and poured some of his drink into Harry's glass. Harry boggled at the unexpected generosity. "Gosh," he said, deeply impressed. "Thanks, Professor!" For no reason Harry could discern, the man winced at this.

He watched Snape pull at the glass again and give a huge sigh. "You do realize this is the end of a brilliant, if misunderstood, career." Harry was mystified by this, and blinked abstracted, young, green eyes at the man. "If the spanking didn't end it, the alcohol certainly will." He stared into space, looking as though he'd been condemned to the gallows.

"Oh!" Harry responded, suddenly understanding. "Oh, no. No one has to know about it. Not as long as you don't want them to," he told Snape anxiously. The man turned to frown at Harry, looking down at him as though he was speaking Mermish, and Harry tried to clarify. "I mean; people will expect you to have punished me. It might be better to say you did, so they. You know."

"Whatever their expectations," Snape retorted contemptuously, "I'm quite certain none of them included my...getting anywhere near...that particular part of your anatomy." He looked away, scowling furiously. "They'll want to hang me from the Whomping Willow, flay me alive, and feed me to one of Hagrid's pets if they find out I did THAT to their beloved little hero." He kicked at his desk a couple of times, muttering, "I'm not entirely certain I won't have deserved it."

"Don't say that!" Harry gasped. Snape couldn't go feeling penitent and vulnerable on him! He wouldn't be Snape if he did that. And anyhow, wasn't that one of the first signs of Armageddon? And who would jeer at Harry, and banter with him, and make him feel normal and abnormal all at the same time? Harry got up and went over to the man. "Don't be like that. You lost your temper. You only do it all the time. I'm not going to tell anyone if you don't want me to." Snape was refusing to look at him, eyes on his shoes. Harry stepped closer, getting right in front of him where he couldn't be ignored. "Stop being such a big baby," he stipulated. "And anyway, I. I. Deserved it. I asked for it, I did." He put his hand lightly on the man's chest and looked up at him, face flushed from the brandy, his body still thriving on the adrenaline from the spanking. Harry licked his lips nervously and added, "You were right to do it. I was practically begging for it."

Snape stared at him for a long while, looking more and more horror-struck. He reached down and took the glass out of Harry's hand. "Out," he ordered. "Right now."

"But--"

"NOW, Mister Potter." Snape pushed him out into the hall. "Tell anyone whatever you want. Only get back to your. Get back to the party, or go back to your rooms, or what have you. Just get out of here. NOW."

When Harry reached Gryffindor tower, he still hadn't figured out what had gone wrong.