The Master Plan

Chapter 27: And Without Further Ado, Some of Snape's Point of View

Lupin dragged Snape down the hall, looking anxious, until they got to the dungeons. "That little brat Malfoy found out somehow that Harry was gay, and BLACKMAILED him into this," Lupin informed the Potions Master in an aggravated tone.

"So I had surmised, before you so impatiently dragged me from the room," Severus retorted dryly. He tried not to look longingly at his liquor cabinet. It was not even nine in the morning, and he had classes to teach; surely he had better control than that. "It would not have happened if Potter had been discreet enough that he didn't actually arm Draco with the knowledge," he added inattentively.

"Severus Snape."

The growl in the words brought his mind right back to the present, where he focused on Lupin's narrowed eyes, seeing the amber flash and glitter with chilling detail. How many years had it been since he had seen those eyes, not lit with mildness or knowledge, but with wild, animal madness? He suppressed a shiver and forced his eyebrow up. That was always effective, and Lupin seemed to calm down a little.

"Harry shouldn't have to hide what he is," the man told him firmly. "He doesn't deserve to feel ashamed of who he is."

No, indeed. It was Severus that deserved that, though he didn't say so.

"And I'm going to stand behind him fully. I've told him about my own preference. He needs to know that there are other people like that, and that he is not a freak." His voice seemed to hold just a hint of question, and Severus gave him his coldest look.

"Well, be his gay icon if you must, but rest assured that I will NOT have him looking up to ME for support or counsel. If you or Black never explained the Birds and the Bees to him, he certainly isn't going to hear it from me. And you'd better remember that it is none of Mister Potter's business WHAT I am, and I do not intend to tell him." Severus sniffed, looking away. "If that was the reason you took my time and attention away from my meal, you will simply have to live with the disappointment. I trust that was the reason?"

The werewolf was looking irritated. "Don't play coy. You know perfectly well why I really needed to talk to you. I know what's going on."

Snape felt a lead weight drop into his stomach, and he watched Lupin, for the first time, with something resembling real fear. He couldn't know. Potter might have been stupid enough to tell the man, but Severus doubted Lupin would have been so calm if he knew the licentious thoughts Severus was harbouring toward his pseudo-godson. On the other hand, Lupin was often serene during the most bizarre circumstances, so it was quite possible he was merely handling it with aplomb. Severus fought down queasy guilt. "I...see. You know?" He wished he knew whether the man planned on tearing him to shreds during the next full moon. If he knew he was about to die anyway, Severus felt he might just reconsider prowling into the Gryffindor dorms one night to steal Harry away and ravish him. Just once couldn't possibly hurt the boy. Right.

"I know that you're the head of Slytherin house, and I know that it's your job to spy and keep an eye on the Death Eaters, and their children. I know that it's your job to keep us apprised of Voldemort's plots."

Severus scowled. "In the first place, I'll have you know that not every Slytherin child happens to be a bloodthirsty monster. And even those that ARE, are not necessarily in the employ of the Dark Lord, and they do not deserve to be judged by what they are at this tender age. They little merit the stigma or exile that come from being dangerous criminals, when they are not yet wise nor mature enough to realize the difference between the supposed 'light' and much maligned 'dark.' And secondly, I hardly think the Dark Lord has hatched some evil scheme that he felt only Draco Malfoy could achieve, and by outing The Boy Who Lived, no less. Or blackmailing him into outing himself, however you choose to look at it. I'm sure Draco had no truly insidious plan; well, no more than would have your dear Sirius Black, at any rate."

Lupin reddened. "Well. I suppose you're right about the children of Slytherin house; I was out of line to suggest that being one thing naturally meant being the other. But I believe you may be wrong about Voldemort. And even if you're not, Malfoy could easily attempt to gain the man's aid now, all out of misplaced schoolboy pride and vengeance. And you're wrong if you think he's not dangerous. He's got far too much self-respect, and without reason. That kind of pride is always dangerous."

"Fine. If you truly think Voldemort may have been involved in today's little fiasco, I'll arrange a meeting with him as soon as possible. Though certainly he would not choose to tell me, I have no doubt there is much to be gleaned from seeing his reaction to the information." He sighed tiredly. "He will have expected me to report such a thing, in any case." Lupin nodded gravely. "You'll have to take over detention again, if you'll be here," Severus added.

"I apologize, but I'm actually supposed to be out of the country shortly. I shouldn't even be here now, but I couldn't let Harry face this alone."

Severus humphed moodily at that. "Still, I suppose there is always Filch. At any rate, I do not intend to be gone more than a night," he went on, almost as though he were making an effort at justifying his absence.

Remus felt bad for the children, and found himself sending letters and changing plans in his head. "Well, if it's only for tonight, I suppose I could stay that long," he relented. "But when I'm gone, I'm setting you the task of keeping watch over Harry. No. Don't even open your mouth, because I'm not going to listen to it. Sirius is--is dead, and so is James, and I'm a poor substitute for either of them, especially considering I'm hardly ever here. I'm not asking you to be a father figure to him, or anything else for that matter. I just want someone watching." Damn it, Lupin, I've been watching closer and longer than anyone. I certainly don't need being told. "You've the sharpest eyes of any that came out of our year, and I demand your promise that you'll keep them on him--and out for anything that might harm him--while I'm not here. Don't even think about refusing," he added flatly.

"I certainly will not purposely turn my back while the boy dies," Snape rejoined, "but you'd just better keep in mind what a trial he actually IS. What are harmless, mischievous, cute little adventures to YOU," Cute to whom, Severus? "are frustrating, risky, heart-stopping misadventures to ME. He puts on that cloak and does whatever he damn well pleases, come hell, high water, or hexes. He doesn't take it seriously. And I'm just too old to keep up with him," Snape grated as an afterthought. Well, it was perfectly true, wasn't it?

Lupin sighed. "I'll have a talk with him about that. If it's one thing I know all about, it's how to handle massive amounts of guilt. And while he's impulsive, he isn't naïve. He knows perfectly well what Voldemort is capable of; he's seen the effects often enough. But you're absolutely right, and I'll have a long talk with him later today."

"See that you do. God knows I've tried everything I could think of, but he certainly doesn't listen to me." Severus had to bite his lip from adding, 'the impossible imp,' because he knew it would come out sounding like an endearment. Maybe it was.

"Perhaps you could come with me," Lupin suggested, "when I speak with him. If I tell him that I expect him to respect your authority and that what you say goes, and do so in your presence, perhaps he'll realize how serious I am. Besides, you really are more perceptive than I am when it comes to people's responses, and I'd like to be able to hear your take, afterwards, on how well you think Harry understands what I've said, and that I mean it."

More time with Harry. Joy. Except, of course, the youth probably loathed him right now and, moreover, he deserved it. He hadn't been able to look him in the eye since it happened; the boy was too transparent, and the viridian pain was more than Severus could bear. "Fine," he sighed, and was pleased to note that he sounded suitably reluctant. It was bad enough that he actually felt badly about the whole thing; he could hardly stand the thought of anyone knowing about it. "If you absolutely insist."

Ron and Hermione got a break from Harry's problems for a little while because, during lunch, Seamus dragged him off to meet 'some of the other glitts.' He was obviously feeling a little bad about reacting so flippantly to Harry's big speech, and tried to make it up to him. Seamus--another Gryffindor, the same year as Harry, and someone who grew up with one Muggle parent--was the ideal guide to the world of the gay at Hogwarts.

"Are there many of us?" Harry asked interestedly. He'd never imagined he'd be having a discussion like this.

"Nah. A handful or so of each house are queer, 'cept with the Slytherins. But, like I said, they're not 'gay,' they're just 'morally impaired.' They'll fuck anything that stands still long enough. Oy, Jack! Harry, this is my boyfriend. I think you've met him." He grinned widely when Harry's eyes went round with surprise.

"You're gay, too then?" he exclaimed without thinking. It figured. The only one of them that had been comfortable with everyone in the room calling them fairies. "Oh. But most Slytherins do that anyway, I guess, huh? The gay thing."

Jack nodded seriously. "Though I doubt that I'm as melodramatically gay as you are," he parried. "I really would never have guessed--you hid it so well. I imagine the horrible, shapeless wardrobe was all part of the disguise?"

Harry ducked his head, grimacing. "No, that's just what I own."

"We will definitely have to do something about that," Jack responded, and Harry looked up to see the young man grinning, hazel eyes flashing with good humor, as Seamus nodded decisively.

"What do you mean?"

"We can't have you going about looking like that," Seamus explained. "You're one of us, now. You have to really look your absolute best--"

"--endimanché--"Jack interjected.

"--because how you look will have repercussions on all of us. The appearance you present will affect everyone's impression of us, as well."

Just what Harry needed. More pressure. "Because I'm The Boy Who Lived," he intoned dolefully.

"No," Seamus replied insistently, "because you're queer. We have an image to maintain! Frankly, right now you bring down the value of the whole neighborhood. But don't worry; we'll get you a book on it or something. Now, come on, there are other poufs for you to meet."

After introducing Harry round, Seamus assigned a queer boy to sit next to Harry in each of that day's classes, and explain what things were like. After all, lunch really didn't last very long, and Harry had swarms of questions floating around his brain.

By the end of classes, Harry was having difficulty assimilating everything he'd been told. He'd learned that there were some gays in every house, that nobody thought much about it, that they grouped themselves by interest and had 'nights out' together, and that most of them found Harry very charming and his speech highly amusing. The interests they convened over were even more shocking; there was a group of several boys that were playfully monikered The Little Red Riding Hoods or, more familiarly The Reds, because of their captivation with, of all people, Professor Lupin. Harry's mind went numb at this, and refused to process the information, lest the man who'd taken over the duties of being a Godfather to him adopt an aspect likely to traumatize him well into adulthood. There was a smaller group dubbed The Blackbirds who had an obsession with Snape. Harry didn't meet any of them, but wasn't surprised hear they were mostly Slytherins and, to Seamus's view, masochists. It was a real wrencher to hear about it, though; on the one hand, it was a relief to know he wasn't a complete freak of nature, but on the other, how dare they fantasize about his...whatever--and if any of them laid a hand on Severus they would pay.

All in all, Harry learned more in one day than he ever had before. He'd also been reprimanded by two teachers--Binns and McGonagall--for talking while they were trying to lecture. He just couldn't help it; there were so many things he didn't know, and so many shockers to come to grips with, that he really couldn't concentrate on his classes at all. He was devoutly thankful that today, at least, he didn't have Potions, although he was aware that he'd have to face Snape later on. He hoped the man was good and mad. He was sick of Severus's insipid façade. He hoped he could get the professor to yell at him or, better yet, insult him.

He met Ron and Hermione at dinner, and discussed some of the things he'd learned. Ron was taking it all as well as he could. He just let Harry know whenever a subject became too frightening or explicit by clapping his hands over his ears and singing loudly. Hermione thwacked him several times, trying to get him to stop, but Harry insisted he didn't mind. Though eventually this chased off everyone sitting near them.

For the most part, both Ron and Hermione were extremely relieved; they were both getting questions and comments, but it wasn't nearly as bad as Harry, for one, had expected. Some people were even supportive, although, as Ron noted, he had had to hex two people, and punch one Slytherin in the nose. Hermione hadn't actually hit anyone, though she assured Harry that anyone who complained to her got a good old-fashioned disapproving lecture.

When the three of them finally ambled upstairs, accompanied by Ginny, Seamus, and Colin Creevy, they slowed when they saw an unfamiliar figure dressed in black, leaning casually against the wall beside the Fat Lady. Well, unfamiliar to see just outside of the Gryffindor common room, at any rate. Standing with one shoulder against the wall, legs crossed, just so, at the ankle, somehow looking as though he was competing for the 'Most Stylish Slacker' award, and smiling cat-like all the while, was Blaise Zabini.

Seamus and Hermione exchanged a knowing smile. Blaise began to saunter toward Harry, and Hermione tugged on Ron's arm, saying, "Let's just leave the two of them alone, shall we?" Which incited another round of 'A Wizard's Staff Has a Knob on the End,' while Ron clapped his hands over his ears and cringed. As Hermione dragged Ron through the Portal, Harry vaguely heard her saying something like, "You DO understand the connotations of that song, don't you? Because it's actually..." followed by Ron's strangled scream, muffled by the closing portrait.

"Er. Um. Hi," Harry said, swallowing repeatedly. Blaise was even shorter than he was, so why the hell did Harry feel so intimidated? Aside from the unnerving smile on his lips, there was nothing even remotely threatening about the Slytherin. His dark curls framed his face like a halo, and his wide, blue eyes, dark lashes, and perfect complexion only served to heighten the sense of innocence about him. He really was quite gorgeous, and Harry was having difficulty fighting his hormones for control of his body. He took a nervous step back.

"Hello, Harry," Blaise replied in a soft voice, and Harry couldn't repress a shiver. This was the boy so many wrote about on bathroom walls? The one with a reputation as big as Hogwarts itself? Harry couldn't believe it. He didn't know Blaise at all well, but he looked like a Christmas angel. Dressed in rather tight, black pants, but still. "I heard what you said about me at breakfast." He continued to approach Harry, getting quite close, and Harry, without thinking, backed away until he was against the opposite wall. Blaise gave him a rather coquettish smile. "Did you mean it?"

"Erm." Wow. Harry wasn't certain he'd be able to get any words out at all. His palms were sweating, and he couldn't deny that he was excited to have one of the hottest guys at Hogwarts paying him such close attention. Another part of him was feeling tremendous guilt, because it was Severus he wanted, wasn't it? Only Severus, and no one else would do. "Well, sure," he said, more confidently than he felt. "Who doesn't think you're hot? I mean. And unlike Malfoy, you've never been completely horrible to me, either."

Blaise smiled luminously at this, and leaned forward, resting his hand flat on the wall next to Harry's head. It occurred to Harry that there was less than a foot between them, and it would be rather easily breached. "You mean, like outing you in front of the whole school?" Blaise responded teasingly. You're quite sure Severus is the one you want? a treacherous little voice inside Harry's head inquired. Even though he'll never want you back?

"Er. Yes. Like that. Or calling me demeaning things like the Gryffindor Whore." Harry agreed somewhat breathlessly.

"Mmm. Or posting papers in the Slytherin common room with your handwriting all over them, proclaiming to have a thing for some anonymous, dark Slytherin?" Blaise chewed his lower lip seductively, and Harry thought, Oh, dear.

Snape rounded the corner with Lupin, and almost jerked to a complete halt when he saw the tableau before him; Harry, back flat against the wall, pressed up against it in defense, and Blaise, leaned up close to him, head tilted so he could look up into Harry's eyes, and that cherubic, false smile on his face. Well. This should hardly be a surprise. The boy wasn't called the Slytherin Slut for nothing. Severus's lips pinched themselves tightly together. Zabini was in for a surprise, if he thought himself guileful enough to bed Potter. Harry did, on occasion, suffer from bouts of mental delay, but Severus was certain he was by no means a COMPLETE cretin. Snape watched Zabini's eyes flutter vacantly, and he twisted a curl around a finger of the hand that wasn't trapping Harry. Oh, that's right, I'm entirely harmless, me. Hah. No one could fail to see through that transparent innocuousness.

Severus felt his gut twist as Harry shuffled his feet and gave Zabini a shy, crooked grin in return. Well, perhaps not 'no one.' Which is Harry's best and worst characteristic -that utterly irrational desire to believe the best of horrible people. Like me.

"Ahem. Harry?" Lupin broke in, clearing his throat, and the boy twitched guiltily. "I need to have a word with you." Severus crossed his arms tightly to hold in a raging, completely unwarranted jealousy. He had no right. He'd just have to keep reminding himself of that.

"All right, Professor. Um. I mean Lupin. Remus," Harry corrected himself, feeling like a complete jackass. This was harder than it had any right to be, and could he help it if he found it hard to think clearly with the man he adored and the most beautiful guy in the school both standing there looking at him? Well, Severus was scowling, naturally. Harry was inordinately pleased by that.

He tried to look laid-back as he smiled at Remus. Remus looked from Harry to Blaise, and cleared his throat. Severus began to walk toward Harry, looking menacing, but Lupin put a hand on the man's shoulder, and this seemed to stop him. "I think I should have a quick word with Professor Snape, first, if you don't mind," he told them, and Harry nodded uncertainly.

"Perhaps this was not the best idea," Remus was telling Severus. "It looks as though Harry's progressed far beyond where I'd expect him to be, and I think. Well. I'm just going to have to give him The Talk, that's all. I know they're much more sophisticated than we were at their age, but I'm fairly certain Harry isn't nearly as sophisticated as Blaise Zabini. Why don't I just get it all over with, and then I'll come and tell you what happened?"

Harry watched as Remus leaned over and once again whispered something in Snape's ear, and he felt a growing tightness in his stomach. What was going on? Snape merely nodded irritably at Remus's words, and began walking away. Harry's excitement waned a little.

"Look, Harry, I'd better go," Blaise was saying. "But maybe I'll...we'll...you know, see each other tomorrow?"

Harry flushed, and wished desperately he had more control over it. There had to be a spell of some sort! First thing tomorrow, he'd start hunting for it. "Oh! Yeah, I'd, um, like that," he responded, surprised to realize it was true. Blaise winked at him before leaving, and Harry watched admiringly as he walked away.

As Severus stalked away, he couldn't help but keep looking back over his shoulder. Harry wasn't watching, anyway. He was, well. Watching the rather more well used piece of Zabini's anatomy, as the boy sashayed toward the dungeons, taking an alternate route from Severus's. One of the teens wasn't oblivious, then. The wrong one. He walked all the way back to his rooms feeling heartsick and disgruntled. Once he got there, he drank nearly an entire half of a bottle of gin.

As he lolled in bed, images of Harry kept springing, unbidden, to his mind. Harry smiling at him. Harry laughing. Harry looking frightened and breathless and delectable. Harry's lips on his. Oh. God. He had to stop doing this. "I am NOT a lecherous pervert," he announced loudly and drunkenly.

His mirror, which was in all ways a Slytherin mirror, and therefore more cynical and ruthless than most, immediately replied, "Uh-huh. You just keep telling yourself that."

Severus snarled. "Have you ever heard the expression, 'seven years of bad luck?'" he growled.

"Have YOU ever heard the expression, 'big shard of glass in your eyeball?'" it retorted scornfully, and Severus grunted angrily, put the pillow over his head, and tried to fall asleep.