The Master Plan

Chapter 23: Flinging Yourself at the Man You Love: Pride is Overrated

By Friday, Harry thought he was going to lose it. He was considering going to Dumbledore and throwing a big, hysterical fit--and then himself, at the man's feet--and beg to know where Severus was, and what he was doing. The only thing that stopped him were the Fidelus charms. And the fact that Snape didn't want Dumbledore to know--although Harry thought it was a good bet that Dumbledore already knew, because that was just his thing, his--his shtick. Some people have a certain look, some people use a certain phrase all the time, and some people were omniscient. And when Ron and Hermione slipped out for their marathon Saturday snogging session, Harry was going to do something. Go to Dumbledore. He felt sure that if he pretended he was just going to talk about something else, the charms would at least let him get near enough that Dumbledore saw the pleading look in Harry's eyes, and would take pity on him.

He might have done it, too, if he'd had to endure the terrible suspense for much longer. He let loose some of his pent-up energy on Justin Finch-Fletchley after Herbology. "What do you MEAN, my tie's all crooked!? Your FACE is about to be crooked, you lousy, good-for-nothing--!"he was screaming, when Hermione caught his sleeve and distracted him with a big grin. Harry did a double take, momentarily confused.

Then Hermione leaned over and whispered in his ear: "Someone's been complaining to Lupin that we were let out of detention early every night, and we're going to be kept twice as late as usual all next week to make up for being spoiled. He's back!"

Harry skivved off his next class and went straight down to Snape's chambers. Whose door would NOT open, via key, 'Alohomora,' or good old fashioned, aggravated kicks. Finally, after Harry stood and yelled in the hallway for about a minute, the door cracked open infinitesimally, and he heard the Potion's Master hiss, "Cease that infernal racket this very instant, you inconsiderate twat!" Harry threw himself at the door, scuffling to get in, but the door would not budge from that minuscule slit.

"Please let me in," Harry begged, not caring about pride. "Please, please, please. Let me in, let me help, you need me, you NEED me--"

"I most certainly do NOT," came the hot response. "Go away. I need my rest. And tell your little friends that there is to be no class tonight. I haven't the energy, and that gullible, leg-humping werewolf is gone. So unless you want detention with Filch, I suggest you leave. Now."

"LEG-HUMPING?!" Harry cried, his face halted in a rictus of disgust. "He--he NEVER--"

"Of course he didn't, you young simpleton. You're both utterly gullible. God, even the least considered, most casually flung out slur is enough to send you into paroxysms of indignation. Pathetic. Now, GO AWAY." The slit began to disappear, taking all of Harry's aspirations with it.

"I was so worried about you," the boy choked out brokenly. The door paused, as if considering.

"Mm-hmm. Try having a little trust in those far wiser, cannier, older, warier and in every other way just overall superior to you, next time, Potter. While not invincible, I am frightfully experienced at this, you know." A hand slipped out the opening and deftly traced Harry's jaw before being withdrawn. "Go away, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow."

Snape still wasn't in classes the next day, and they found another note telling them to take the night off. Ron looked at Hermione with a silly smile, and Harry rolled his eyes. "Weeeeell, me china," Ron addressed Harry, "what d'you say to entertaining yourself tonight? Your evil idol has returned, back by popular demand, so I expect you'll be wanting to bother him until he tells you the whole story? Meanwhile, I think the Astronomy Tower is feeling particularly deserted at the mo, so..."

Harry laughed. "Go on, then, but don't get caught again," he advised them. "One more detention and we'll still be serving them after we've officially graduated." With a wave, he bid them goodbye and made his way to the dungeons.

He was surprised to find the door unlocked, and not even completely closed, so that it swung in at his touch. Having been trained by Snape, he went right into 'wary bastard' mode. He slipped his wand out, and invoked the Blurring Charm he'd cast on his watch. Which had caused it to stop working, ruining the second watch he'd owned since coming to Hogwarts. Walking lightly, he crept along the hallway toward the Study, from which a soft light emanated.

The door to the room was mostly closed, and Harry craned his neck left and right, attempting to see beyond the small area that showed through the opening. Nothing to see, except a patch of floor and the bookcase behind it. Oh, hell. He didn't know WHAT to do. He listened for a while, but heard nothing but a crackling fire. And then a clink. A clink! He'd heard a clink! Great! Now what the sodding hell did that mean? He let out a tiny sigh, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Snape say, "You might as well come in, Potter. It's hardly like you to stand about for hours, peering into other people's private chambers. Unless you've developed some kind of voyeurism in my absence."

Harry slowly opened the door and gave the man an awkward look. "Er. Sorry." Snape was standing, looking elegant as always, his back to the firelight. He held a snifter in his long, graceful fingers, although only a taste of brandy still remained in the bottom of the glass. Severus was standing in front of his chair, looking very cavalier in a black and silver satin lounge jacket, and doing that thing with his eyebrow again. He opened his mouth, and Harry just knew he was going to say something snarky; something about Harry standing there eyeballing him, mouth slightly open, like a complete something-or-other-ostentatious-sounding idiot.

"Well. I can hardly comprehend why you are standing there with a face like an exceptionally devout Anglican Evangelical upon first entering the kingdom of heaven, and laying eyes on your Savior." He heaved a large sigh and drained his glass. "Still, I cannot admit I am unworthy of it." The man tossed his head and smirked, and Harry found his legs, if not his voice.

He pounced. Severus, taken off guard again, was slammed backward and, as his legs hit the front of his chair, he collapsed into it. For all of a few moments, Snape looked struck dumb to find himself in this position, with Harry atop his knees, arms around his neck, and smiling brilliantly all the while. Severus blinked a couple of times. After some sort of internal struggle, he seemed to master himself enough to scowl and say, "Really, Potter, it is a complete mystification to me why you have the inexorable compulsion to launch yourself at me periodically. It is a most disturbing habit you seem to have developed, and one that must be broken. These animalistic tendencies of yours are not going to be countenanced by anyone in polite society. I suppose it is fortunate, then, that you are in contact with next to no one in polite society." He sniffed belittlingly.

Harry grin only broadened. "I dunno. Could be a new fashion. I'm the Boy Who Lived, right? I'm sure that if I made a hobby of leaping on Potions Masters and parking myself on their laps, pretty soon everyone would be doing it."

Severus pursed his lips. "Which would not be an improvement." He unwound Harry's arms and pushed the boy toward the floor. "Vacate said lap this moment, if you would. Dealing with your obnoxious high spirits requires more than one glass of liquid intoxicant." He moved smoothly to get himself another drink, and returned to find Harry occupying his chair. "I think you may have forgotten the hierarchy in my chambers, and the privileges and services that accompany our divergent ranks." When Harry looked blankly at him, Severus sighed hugely and pointed. "Floor. Now. The chair is mine. Stay off of it. Understood?" He rolled his eyes and Harry slid out of the chair and bowed deeply.

"Is that all? Should I prostrate myself before the King of Condescension, as well?" He gave the man a playful smile, and pretended not to notice the dark shadows under Severus's eyes, or how he seemed thinner and paler and more worn than ever. For a man whose very substance was glued together by dignity and pride, Harry felt it was probably better to approach the subject delicately, if at all. He did want to know what had happened, but at the same time, he was glad just to be able to return to the man's presence. He deliberated internally, watching the Potions Master's lips as they touched the rim of the glass.

"So, you insignificant spawn of gaucherie, tell me how your riveting classes with that hare-brained hairball went. I'm sure they were just splendid, with biscuits and tea and terrifically irrelevant conversations. Is it going to take me years to undo the damage? Did you manage to get anything whatever from amplifying charms and revealing spells, or was the whole experience a phenomenal waste of everyone's time?"

"Well," Harry responded readily, snuggling up against the man's legs, "it was the most glorious experience of my young life, bar none. The biscuits were unsurpassed, and the small talk was, in a word, divine. I can't think of a more delightful pastime than sitting around while Ron and Hermione make cow-eyes at each other, listening to Lupin blather on about how much fun my dad was, and trying to concentrate on learning the kinds of spells that might just save my life, if not the world, all while you're out gallivanting with the Manslaughter Mob, doing God-knows-what while I go crazy doing fuck-all and worrying myself sick over you. Yes, a swell time was had by all," Harry finished sourly.

Snape gave him a flick upside the ear, causing him to yelp. "Sarcasm does NOT become you. Unappreciative, snot-nosed reprobate," he added fondly, twisting the youth's hair around his finger.

Harry smiled and yawned. "We played around with amplifying charms a little bit, although I must say Hermione was disgracefully less subtle about it than you might have suspected. But we did learn how to cast a spell, shoot it off in another direction, and set off and amplify once it got there. We tried it with a few spells, but they all had to be--what'd you call them? I think Remus said they were...corporeal? Nah...they were...something like that."

"Tangible," Severus supplemented, sounding interested, and maybe just a tad bit impressed. "The only spells that will be of use when both sent out and amplified are the Tangible Thaumaturgics. They must be seen, heard, felt or the like in order to be effective."

"Why?" Harry murmured, running his hand lightly over the silk fabric on the man's leg. He blinked sleepily, trying to hide his exhaustion. Once again, he found himself coming off of an emotional high, and physically ready to shut down.

"I think that can wait until class, tomorrow," Severus informed him, prodding Harry with his foot. "Up you get; you're not having a lie-down on my Study room carpet."

"Mmph," Harry groaned softly, unwilling to move. "Could kip in your bed," he suggested in a mumble. "Wouldn't kill you to let me stay."

"Ha. I suppose you've never heard of death by lynch mob? Because that's exactly what would happen to me if anyone ever found you in my bed. Now depart my quarters, before the pitchfork-bearing, torch-brandishing peasants beat down my door to rescue you from my evil clutches. I'm quite done in for the night. And I'm avidly anticipating sleeping in my own bed again."

"You were here last night," Harry pointed out, and Snape paused.

"I spent the night in the hospital ward," he admitted. "No, I'm not going to tell you anything whatever, and I'm fine now, so you might as well leave. No, just go, all right? The Headmaster hinted he might be along this evening to check on me, and if he comes across you here, fussing and henpecking and hanging from my robes, I don't know how I'll explain it. Off!" He managed to disengage his sleeve from Harry's grip, and shooed the student down the hall.

Harry was so glad to have the Potions Master back that he was walking on air, in seventh heaven, and happy as a clam--until about midway through Transfiguration on Monday. That was when he went to divulge his deeper sentiments by transcribing them on paper, and he discovered his journal was missing. He went through his books at least twelve times, until McGonagall snapped at him for not paying attention. He barely noticed. It was all he could do keep himself from racing back to the boys' dormitory. It had to be there. It just had to! As soon as class let out, he tore through the doorway and went running back to Gryffindor Tower.

Even though he rummaged and shuffled and finally all-out ransacked the room, all he found was a single page from the journal under his bed. It didn't have anything particularly incriminating on it, but Harry knew full well that the rest of the journal did. And how did this page end up under the bed? Did someone place it there on purpose, or were bits of it falling out? It didn't bear thinking about. Finally, he gave up and dashed off to the next class to corner Hermione.

"I've LOST it," he gasped, as he crumpled into the chair next to her. He knew he was sweating and pale and shaking, and it was probably the end of the world. And he was going to have to tell Snape. And then everyone else. 'So sorry about the Armageddon, everyone. Just wasn't paying attention, forget my head next.' Shit, shit, shit. "What am I going to DO?"

"What'd you lose, mate?" Ron leaned over, looking concerned. If it was possible for Harry's jaw to go even slacker, it did.

"The--the--S.P.E.W. notebook!" he managed to croak. "I lost it. It's gone!"

Hermione looked suitably horrified at this, but Ron just laughed and shook his head. "THAT'S what you're all stuffed over? I can't believe it! I thought you'd lost your Firebolt or something!"

"Ron!" Hermione told him in an anguished voice. "That's not all that Harry kept in that notebook! It was. It had. There were things about...the Dark Arts and...OTHER things we wouldn't want the whole world to know about," she grumbled at him through gritted teeth.

"WHAT?" he yelped. "He's been writing about. About that!? Just whose idiot idea was that, anyways, putting that down on paper where any literate lunkhead could get it?" He put his face in his hands when Hermione scrunched down in her seat, looking simultaneously furious and guilty. "I might have known," he groaned in a resigned voice. "So what's our first move? Do we bunk off to look for it?"

Hermione shook her head, still very red. "We don't want to draw attention to ourselves," she insisted. "If someone's found it, they might not have read any of it yet, and don't know that it's even important. We have to act casual."

Harry whimpered, sitting on his hands to prevent himself doing anything. "What if it was Neville or Seamus or Dean?" he lamented at Ron, looking seriously wretched. He felt his shoulders give a shudder of despair, and he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the cool tabletop.

Ron was looking at Harry with a scheming expression. "No worries, Harry. We'll just have to get each of them alone, and ask if they've got it. If they say no, we obliviate 'em and let 'em go, no worse for wear. If they have got it, we get it away from them, and we obliviate 'em even worse, so they don't remember reading it. And then we take 'em to Madam Pomfrey and tell her we found 'em that way, and we don't know what's wrong with 'em. Eh? Right enough?"

Hermione was giving him her, 'I don't know why I put up with you, we're not at all compatible; I'm a girl and you're a jackass' look. Harry, on the other hand, felt unexpectedly consoled by this support. "Yeah, all right, Ron," he said, giving the red-haired boy a wan smile. "If we can't find it anywhere else, let's curse the shit out of everyone that could have done it, and make them give it back." Hermione threw her hands up, and Harry went back to resting his head. He wished to God he hadn't dragged that thing with him everywhere he went. That meant he could have lost it anywhere, anywhere at all. And absolutely anyone could have it.