The Master Plan

Chapter 34: Everybody Wants You...For Different Reasons, Of Course

A week later, Harry had read the book Seamus and Jack had given him from cover to cover, and thought he was about ready to put his new knowledge to use. He dragged Hagrid to Hogsmead, where he tried on something like a thousand things in Glad Rags, accessorizing with a number of items he'd had Lupin obtain in London, and then proceeded to model some outfits for the half-giant.

"Er...tha's very nice, Harry," Hagrid told him politely. He blinked sleepily, just having been woken by the young wizard. This wasn't really Hagrid's interest, but he wanted to be there to protect Harry. Of course, once Harry disappeared into the dressing rooms, Hagrid had dropped into a seat and promptly dozed off. "But...er...why've yeh got that there? It don' look righ', that." He nodded to the green and silver necktie that Harry'd wound through his belt loops.

Harry stifled a sigh. Hagrid was utterly straight, more than a little bored by the idea of fashion as a whole, and completely hopeless at recognizing a chic craze, even if it bit him like one of his monsters. "It's for that, 'Hey, I got up so late and had to do everything so fast this morning that I put clothing on the wrong body parts' look," Harry intoned dryly. "You don't want to know where the underwear goes." Hagrid turned an interesting shade of ruby and looked horrified before Harry had pity on him. "That was a joke," he explained. Hagrid tried to chuckle. "It's just a fad, Hagrid. It comes and goes. I like the way it looks, that's all." He began gathering his belongings. "Hey..." he said in alarm. "Where's my new cloak?"

"Wha's that?" Hagrid helped him look, picking up clothing and looking under chairs. "I dunno, Harry. Could swear it was 'ere jus' a moment ago."

Harry, who'd been bending down, looking under the racks, stood up, scratching his head and frowning. "How long were you asleep, anyw...?" he trailed off, looking out the front window. In front of the store stood a dark-haired youth, showing off Harry's new cloak to a group of teenaged admirers. "Hey!" he angrily exclaimed. "That kid's got my cloak!" He ran to the front of the shop, Hagrid following determinedly. "Hey, you!" Harry yelled as he threw the front door open. "That's mine, dammit! You give it back!" The boy and his friends ran, Harry's new garment flapping behind the culprit. They made a hard right, and headed into an alley. Harry gave pursuit, but Hagrid quickly caught up and grabbed hold of him.

"Harry!" he grabbed hold of the boy, who struggled a moment to get free, before stopping and gazing up at the man in wordless accusation. "I'm sorry, Harry. Blimey, I'm so sorry! I should've been keepin' a better eye on it. But yeh shouldn' go runnin' after strange boys inter alleys...not with, not with You-Know-Who about, causin' trouble. We dunno who that was, do we? Could've been one o' his followers," he explained reasonably.

Harry nodded, defeated. "I guess I'll have to buy myself another...I can use Snape's old one for now. Hagrid, could you do me a favor and not mention to anyone that I lost it? At least--not right away. I don't want Blaise getting angry with me for being careless with it. We're kind of on...shaky ground, right now. If we really do call it off for good, I want it to be over something more substantial than a cloak. I know it's kind of...fifties sitcom-ish, but maybe I can find one like it and replace it or something."

"All righ', Harry," Hagrid agreed easily, nodding his shaggy head. "Can't say I'm too excited abou' the idea of tellin' anyone that I went and fell asleep when I was supposed ter be watchin' yeh, anyhow. But...really, Harry...yeh don' think mebbe it's time ter give up the ghost, like, with Blaise? I mean, I know yeh like 'im an' all, but...the little monster's been buggered by the whole Slytherin house, and lots o' boys in the other houses, too." He quailed under Harry's furious stare. "All righ', all righ'; I'm not tryin' ter get yeh mad at me...Jus' don' know why yeh've got to pick a boy that's got such a good shot at bein' in league with You-Know- Who, tha's all. Be careful, Harry...Blimey, those Slytherins...yeh've just got to watch out for 'em...Dunno why yeh've always got ter be hangin' around with Slytherins..." he muttered to himself, shaking his head, beard waggling in dismay.

"I will be careful," Harry responded, as Hagrid picked up their purchases and then steered him back towards Hogwarts. Harry slowly felt a self-mocking smile cross his face. "I do seem to have a thing for those Slytherins, don't I?"

It was only a matter of time. It wasn't his first kiss; it was only his most important. He could make out with Malfoy in bathrooms, he could make out with Blaise practically everywhere, but it was Severus's lips that clung to his soul and stayed on his mind. He'd practiced not thinking about it and--in his opinion--he'd really made a lot of progress. He was bloody good at the whole visualization thing, and he'd made an extra effort at it, mostly because he never, ever wanted to compromise Severus's safety. But it was kind of a milestone in his life; an event so important that it was impossible not to dwell on it occasionally, and therefore always near the forefront of his mind. So it was bound to happen. He was just lucky it wasn't Voldemort who got a glimpse of it.

Ron had tracked mud from the Quidditch field into the room; he was forced to clean up his mess, and his lines were quickly changed to, "I WAS NOT BORN IN A BARN." Harry had found it amusing; perhaps that was to blame for his inability to concentrate. The moment his mind wasn't completely on Occlumency, it slipped right into contemplating that forbidden subject.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" was Snape's instantly released rant. "Do you want to get us both KILLED? You have no bloody IDEA what you're DOING, do you?" Snape appeared so completely riled that Harry took a step backwards.

"I'm sorry," he responded hoarsely. "I didn't mean for it to happen." He glanced at Hermione's lines, which read, "I WON'T MAKE THE PROFESSOR COME UP HERE AND DO SOMETHING HE'LL DO SOMETHING HE'LL REGRET." She really had to stop getting caught in the Astronomy Tower. Harry took a deep breath. "I don't think it would have happened if it was anybody other than you," he told the man with perfect honesty. It was true, after all; if anyone else had been sifting through his mind, he wouldn't have been looking into those dazzling dark eyes, trying not to remember things better left forgotten.

"Get to your lines," Severus snapped bitterly. He could NOT get the boy to take this seriously. And what the fuck was wrong with him, developing these--feelings--for someone so stupid that he did not even grasp the implications of the situation? He felt the rage and despair mushrooming out, tumultuous in his heart. He might as well give up. They were both fucking dead. How could they not be, when the little, little--pain in the arse couldn't even keep it together to keep the memory from him? He was being gentle! If Harry got taken by Voldemort--!

Harry bit his lip, then turned to the wall. He had to keep this all together, for Severus's sake, if not his own. He had to maintain control. Which did not mean he had to like it. The stress was really beginning to wear on him. He'd been throwing up blood for almost a week now, and nothing Madam Pomfrey recommended did any good. He felt the acid begin to churn in his stomach as he did his lines, trying to ignore how Severus was still raging frantically in the background.

He was at the Astronomy Tower, alone, when Dumbledore found him. Harry was bent over the wall, leaned very far down, and a gentle hand grasped the back of his cloak--Severus's cloak--and pulled him back. He tried to wipe the tears from his cheeks as the man stared at him, seeming to see into his very soul.

"What are you doing, Harry?" the Headmaster asked him softly.

Harry looked down, over the wall again. "Eighth stone down," he whispered. "I can only just reach it with my fingertips. Sometimes, when it's all just too much, I like to come up here and brush my fingers against it. Because nobody else does. It's like something that's all mine; something that no one else has probably ever bothered to touch since Hogwarts was built." He sat against the wall, head sagging forward. "Sometimes it's all just too hard," he said hoarsely, "and I wonder what it would be like to go over the edge. Just give it all up--the fame, the helplessness, the responsibility, everything. And I'd touch it as I went past. Press my whole hand against it, just once."

"Harry..."

"I won't do it. I promise. Not ever. Because you all need me. So I won't--just for you. For all of you. But sometimes I like to think about it. Because I can control THAT, at least." He wiped his eyes again and shakily got to his feet.

"My dear boy, you have far more power than you think." Dumbledore arched a brow.

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I could probably flatten the Forbidden Forest with magic. Like it'd do me any good."

"Or you can capture what was once considered an untouchable heart," the old man countered. He gave Harry a rather grim smile. "It is hard, so very hard for some people to fall in love, Harry. It makes them vulnerable, and so they fight it. Of course, they do not realize that they are already conquered, but the intelligent ones always eventually come to grips with it. It just takes time and patience. A large helping of Gryffindor strong will and stubbornness would not go amiss, either. It is, after all, rather like bashing one's head against a stone wall. And hurts just as badly, I've no doubt. Just keep in mind that when assaulting the walls built around a certain suspicious Potion Master's heart, one might just have to dig in for the long siege. I assure you, you're already in. One simply must both give and take the time it shall take for everyone to accept it."

Harry stared at the man, his face red and his jaw slack, but before he could form a question or even a coherent thought, there was a loud, echoing boom some distance from the castle, and the night sky turned red for a moment.

"Now, Harry, if this particular subject is completely handled, I suggest we move on to something perhaps a bit more pressing." He helped the boy to his feet, saying, "Follow me, Mister Potter." Harry trailed behind the Headmaster into the Castle. Dumbledore led him toward his office, to the gargoyle, who must have been told what to expect, because it jumped aside without even asking for the password, and they headed straight up.

When they reached the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore turned to Harry with a grave look on his face. "Harry, I musk you to perform a spell with me. We do not have time for questions or explanations. Will you do this?" Harry nodded dumbly, his mouth dry. "Good. You will have little to do. I need only borrow your magic and your image for a few moments." He took Harry by the wrist, and led him over to one of the largest, lowest paintings of a former Headmaster, saying, "Sigbuld, if you would be so kind?" The painting of the man with rather wild hair inclined his head, and swung out, revealing a doorway behind him. Harry followed Dumbledore through this portal and found himself outside, on a wide stone balcony. Dumbledore's tower was very high; Harry didn't think he'd ever been anywhere in the castle with this lofty a view before. The sun was just beginning to give an impression of not-pitch-blackness on the eastern horizon. Morning was approaching.

Just as Harry thought this, another sort of fireball rose in the distance, it's booming sound following a few moments behind. Harry shuddered. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but there seemed to be screaming coming from somewhere far off. "Now, Harry; I do not want you to say a single word. When I next speak directly to you, just nod and try to appear as though you are concentrating. That is absolutely everything you will need to do. When you return to yourself, you will once again find yourself here, and I will be gone. Do not come after me. Go into my office and stay there until I return. Close the portal behind you. Do not open my door for anyone, or attempt to contact anyone." Harry was mystified by this, but nodded uncertainly. Dumbledore took Harry's hand, gripping it tightly, and then tapped Harry on the head with his wand, saying, 'Visio!' He pointed his wand toward the explosions, and said something else, and suddenly Harry was spiraling away, feet still firmly planted on stone, but his head somewhere else entirely.

With a snap, the spiraling stopped and he looked around. He was in an alley. There were people running past the mouth of the alley, scrambling and shouting and looking terrified. Then there was another explosion, and this time it was extremely perturbing, because he was seeing it both rising into the sky over his head 'while at the same time' watching it mushroom up on the distant horizon. For a few moments he suffered an acute vertigo, as he tried to mesh the two perspectives into one body, but then gave up.

He heard a sound behind him--an angry hiss--and whirled to see a masked Death Eater approaching him from behind. From as much as an expressionless mask can give some hint at emotion, this one was radiating fury and madness. "I've got you now," it snarled. Harry could see out of the alley behind the man, and the shops lining the streets. He was in Hogsmead, wasn't he? Hogsmead was under attack?

Then the man was raising his wand, and Harry heard Dumbledore's magnified voice cry out, "Now, Harry! To the hideout in the far south! Apparate NOW!" Harry was confused--they hadn't discussed Apparating at all. And what the hell was going on?

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"Severus! Severus!" A voice crackled and fizzed its way out of the mirror sitting on his bedside table. Dimly, the spy was impressed. The device was meant only to let him contact the other wizard, never be an open link for him to be contacted. Muzzily, he sat up in bed and picked up the mirror.

"What is it, Lupin?" he asked, his voice thick, rich and deep with sleep. Blinking a few times, he realized the man looked panicked.

"Find Harry!" the werewolf commanded.

Severus felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his shoulders. He was completely awake now. "What? What's going on?"

The connection via the mirror spell was shaky, and Lupin's face faded, then returned, then stretched and twisted before reverting to its correct dimensions. "--attack--Hogsmead--don't know--Minerva McGonagall in charge; she told me to tell you you're not to leave the castle," he finished, coming mostly back into focus.

"What?" Severus growled. "Hogsmead? The mark hasn't flared at all! Why wasn't I informed?"

"--don't know. Could be rogue Death Eaters, from what we can tell. I think they were trying to sneak past, making their way to Hogwarts. They were trying to make it through the wards, but Shacklebolt's Fire Web caught one out, so they just went crazy and started attacking. Mundugus's dead. It's bloody bedlam out here."

"Shit!" Snape spat grabbing his robe up and heading for the door. "I'll do a round here, and then contact you, agreed?" He saw Lupin nod, and the man snapped out of sight. Hogsmead under attack. Probably after Harry. Bloody, buggering hell.

He took the steps to Gryffindor Tower three at a time, letting his long legs eat up the distance. "Emergency password override," he panted at the fat lady, who looked startled, but quickly allowed him access. When he got to the boys' dormitory, he said "Lumos!" Four bleary-eyed boys sat up in surprise. The explosions outside had not yet begun to be loud enough to wake Hogwarts. Severus threw back the curtains on the empty bed. "Where the HELL is POTTER?" he demanded of Ron Weasley, looking murderous.

"Don't you bloody well get mad at ME about that; that's your fault, it is!" he squawked indignantly. Severus managed an inarticulate snarl, and Ron gulped. "He was upset over how angry you were with him, and said he needed to clear his head after cl--after detention. Said he was going to take a walk. Don't know where he went."

"He--he's been gone since then?" Severus replied. That was hours ago. If the boy was walking, he could have gone all the way to Hogsmead by n--Oh. SHIT. Whirling, he made for the door.

"Professor, what's--?"

Snape cut the boy off. "Shut up and lock yourselves in. If anyone apart from Professor McGonagall or myself comes to your door, you'd best be prepared to defend yourselves. Hogsmead is under attack. DO NOT leave this room. I will be patrolling outside, and I cannot chance killing any of you--and that will be my instinct, and my instinct will not be curbed tonight."

"What about Harry?" he heard Ron call anxiously.

"I will take care of Potter," he growled.

When he was far enough from Gryffindor Tower--well, as soon as he'd left Gryffindor Tower, really, he had no patience tonight--he yanked the mirror out of his pocket and contacted Lupin.

"It's utter chaos," the werewolf immediately began complaining bitterly. "They've gone mad, they're just killing anyone that gets in front of them, now. There are bodies strewn all over--"

"Lupin. Pay attention." The man's head snapped up, golden eyes focusing. "Harry is missing. He's not in his bed; he said he was going for a walk. This was hours ago. For all I know, he is in your vicinity. I will scour the castle, but I need you to look for him as well."

Remus covered his tired face with his hands for a moment. "Mother of God, I hope he's not lost down here in all of this right now. I'll look. Call me if you find anything, and I'll do the same." Snape nodded curtly.

"Unless there is an emergency, I will check in with you in one hour," Snape told him, and began the search.

He checked the Astronomy Tower, his own dungeons, McGonagall's room, even woke the Zabini brat to ask if he'd seen the boy. Blaise looked like he might pass out at the information. He had not seen Harry all week, really, he insisted. "Where's Malfoy?" Snape asked as an afterthought. They'd made out a little over a week ago; perhaps he'd taken Harry to bed. He'd kill them both, of course, but only if they were there to be killed.

"He hasn't returned from Christmas vacation, remember?" Blaise asked him gently, causing the man to scowl. He wasn't some old coot, damn it, who tottered about forgetting things and needing adult diapers. It was only that a snippet of previously unimportant information had slipped his mind. Draco was skiing in Vermont, on a long Holiday, since he'd missed the beginning of the Christmas break by attending Potter's party. This meant that he was with Lucius, and not Harry, so he was of no further interest.

"You're in charge of Slytherin," Snape announced, being singularly cruel to the boy. "I have to patrol the castle. No one is to leave the Slytherin rooms. I'm sure you can keep them in line," he added sweetly, smiling at the boy's white, terrified face.

He went and looked for Dumbledore, but the gargoyle said, "No entry in his absence," which was a key phrase to let the Order know he was already out dealing with whatever was happening. He supposed he should let Lupin know; if the man came across him, he must straight away inform the Headmaster the boy was missing.

He heard the mirror crackle to life, and worriedly held it up. He was supposed to contact Lupin about now, not the other way around. "Severus," the voice was choked. "Oh, my God, Severus." He felt himself go white, and quickly found an empty classroom with a chair to collapse into. He had never heard Remus's voice like that--so frightened, so sick, so--grieving, shaking, upset. 'Not that,' he prayed. 'Anything but that.' "You saw the cloak Zabini gave him for Christmas?" Snape nodded mutely into the looking glass. "I think. Oh, my God," Lupin said, his voice cracking, "Severus, I think I found Harry." He turned the mirror, and in the golden light of the sunrise, Severus could make out the shadowy form of a boy fallen in the middle of the street.

He was flat on his stomach, and a shimmery green cloak covered everything but one arm, flung wide, and his dark head, and the large pool of blood that had spread from it. God, it couldn't be. It just couldn't be. Severus thought he was going to be sick. It couldn't be. He had the cuff link for situations like this. But if it happened too fast--Oh. God. Severus slammed the mirror down, breaking his link to Lupin. Then he slammed it again, and again, until the glass had shattered onto the desk in front of him. He sat, shaking, for a moment. Then he used the frame to beat the shards to a fine dust. Finally, he dropped his head into his arms, and fell into dry sobs.

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Harry, meanwhile, was recollecting himself enough to give the briefest nod, and suddenly he found himself back on the balcony. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. There were a couple of further explosions in the distance, but then it got eerily quiet. He was supposed to be inside. Stifling a sigh, he went back through the portal, and contented himself with pacing and chatting with the paintings as he awaited the old man's return.

They wouldn't tell him anything, of course, so out of nervous frustration, he found himself chatting with them about silly, pointless things. "Well, yes. The double-back IS a very good Quidditch move," he told Headmaster Herbitus, who had been around in the Victorian ages. He had a very fine set of whiskers. "No, I've never really owned a pet--well, except for Junior," he added to one of the witches. "He's my snake, but really, I don't OWN him; he's just my friend. My family never had pets, and never would have let me own one, Headmistress Alfreda." He found it challenging keeping so many conversations going at once, and suspected they were just trying to keep him distracted, but he was grateful. Their kind dialogue was probably the only reason he hadn't gone completely mad in the last hour. Had it only been an hour!?

Finally, the door opened, and Dumbledore came in. As Harry leapt to his feet, the Headmaster raised a hand. "This will be discussed at a later time. I still have a few imperative issues to take care of. If you would be so kind, would you find Professor Snape and ask him to wait in his office for me? Tell him I will be with him...when I can. I cannot spare the time to speak with him right away, I'm afraid."

Harry chewed his lips, dying to know what was going on. Self-restraint. He had to learn it sometime. And he understood that Dumbledore was kind of offering him a consolation prize, by sending him to Snape. It would be more of a consolation if the man weren't so cold and irate with him. Oh, well. "Yes, sir," he mumbled glumly.

The Headmaster looked tired, but Harry could swear he saw the man's eyes twinkle particularly brightly as he nodded goodbye to the boy.

Harry approached the door to Snape's rooms with caution. Loud crashes were emanating from behind it, as well as explosive swearing, and it was making Harry nervous. It was Severus's voice though, he knew that for certain. Why was the man so upset? And was he throwing things in there? It did, it sounded like he was throwing things! Breaking things, even. What the hell? Harry cringed when he heard the thwack of what he was sure was a book being lobbed across the room. He knocked softly, not loudly enough to be heard over the racket, and tried the knob. Unlocked. Perhaps he ought to peek in and determine what he was dealing with before making his presence known.

He made his way to the study; where he saw Severus gulp down an impossible amount of brandy, then hurl the empty glass into the fireplace, where it shattered. Amidst the tinkling of settling glass, the flames fed on the alcohol, roaring merrily higher. Harry was frozen to the spot for a long moment. "Prof--Professor?" he eventually managed to get out in a voice hardly above a whisper.

The man spun to face Harry, absolutely shocked. The boy watched an amazing succession of emotions march rapidly across the man's face; first disbelief, then consternation, then several that were far too complicated for Harry to read, then a strange rawness that the Potion's Master fought to suppress, and finally up came that ever-present anger.

"Where the fuck have you been, you reckless little imbecile? Do you have any bloody idea what kind of uproar you've thrown the school into? Lupin has been absolutely insane with anxiety--thought you were dead, and you've just been--been--traipsing about gathering flowers or--more likely--you'd probably gone looking for trouble! No one knew where you were--no doubt your masochistic 'friends'--those idiots that actually CARE about you--have been worrying themselves sick over you. You sat there and promised me that you wouldn't pull this kind of immature thing anymore, and then this! I'm sure the promise meant fuck all to you, and do you have any idea how FURIOUS I am with you right now?" Snape's chest was heaving, his body trembling, and Harry felt himself grow cold.

Why did Severus always imagine the worst of him? "As a matter of fact, the Headmaster knew exactly where I was, as he'd led me to the place and instructed me to stay there. Which I did--and did not, in fact, go 'looking for trouble,' as you so quickly assumed. I did not realize nor can I help the fact that Albus did not inform you of my whereabouts. Now, if you'll excuse me, since I am not an inconsiderate prick, I think I ought to reassure my 'friends'--yes, those idiots that actually care about me--that I am still whole and unharmed." Harry lifted his chin augustly, and turned to walk from the room.

Severus felt anger and relief and primitive, unrefined need simmering up inside. If Harry had only shown the immaturity Severus was used to, he was certain he would have been able to handle it. But no, the boy had to go and be reasonable and intelligent. And act as though he had control of the situation--which drove Severus to respond the way he did probably more than anything else.

Harry was incensed, but he would not give Severus the satisfaction of rising to the man's insults. He would be the bigger man and walk away. And if Severus wanted to know anything about Dumbledore, he'd have to ask someone else. Harry walked with calm, measured strides to the door, feeling grim satisfaction. He'd won that round, he was sure of it. That was it for the night, he was sure, so he was more than a little shocked when he felt Severus's hand clamp down on his arm, and spin him around to face the man.

"You aggravating little--" Severus shoved him against the wall, capturing Harry's mouth with his own. Harry's instinct was to gasp, which only succeeded in opening his mouth--which was urgently invaded by the Potions Master's tongue. He was dimly aware of the man's leg snaking its way between his own. Harry moaned deep in his throat, one hand on the man's chest, the other digging nails greedily into his shoulder.

One of Severus's arms was wrapped around his waist, and the other hand--which had been gripping Harry's shoulder, slid up and tangled itself in the boy's hair. Harry's hand twisted into the fabric of the robe covering Severus's chest, trying to pull the man closer, closer, aware that he could never be close enough. He felt Severus's hand slip back down to his neck, where the fingers twined and tickled the hairs at the nape. He was just capable of whimpering, and let his arm go from the man's chest to circle his waist, reach up his back, touch, touch, oh! Hands on warm robes, robes on the warm back. Glorious, sensitive skin!

For Severus, the feeling was just as extraordinary. Sweet lips, wet, silken tongue...Hair as soft as feathers...firm, confident hands sliding up and down his back...it was all heady, and immoral, and absolutely, exquisitely perfect--beautiful, even. Harry's sweet whimpers were better to his ears than Mozart played by the most skilled symphony. God, he could have lost the chance to do this--lost it forever.

Harry could feel the man's hungry hands, one holding him as tightly against the Potions Master's body as it could, the other turning its attention to his face. It was cupping his chin, then trailing knuckles lightly up and down his jaw line, then flipping over to skim Harry's cheek with his palm, and finally running fingertips all over Harry's face; trembling as they brushed along his brow, drew a line down to the tip of his nose, even swept across his eyelids and kissed his eyelashes. Harry even felt the elusive touch tracing the terrible scar on his head, which felt so sensitized that Harry trembled and was forced to sigh through his nose. 'Dear God,' Harry marveled. How could he have known his scar, of all things, was an erogenous zone?

In the back of his mind, he thanked God Blaise had taught him how to kiss, really kiss, and breathe through his nose at the same time, or he might have run out of air and died by now. Which still would have been preferable to breaking contact with Severus's mouth. He moaned softly, trying to convey the delirious rapture he was feeling, and he felt the man smile against his lips, fingers still running over his skin. To Harry, it felt as though Severus seemed to want nothing so much as to memorize every plane and curve of Harry's face.

Harry had no idea how long it went on--it was a lifetime, and still far, far too short a moment, when they heard a knock at the door, and Harry thought, 'No, no, no,' so desperately that he was still thinking it--still half forming the words with Snape's tongue in his mouth, still moaning it when the man broke away. "Nooo, nooo, nooo-ooooh...oh...I know, I know," he straightened up as Severus gave him a pointed look which said, 'Immature behaviour. Don't make me regret what I just did, hmm?'

The man blinked, looking as though he were landing, having descended from some high cloud. "Harry...this can't happen again. There are consequences, risks--"

"I know," Harry cut him off in a hoarse voice, looking so pink and unkempt and simply so thoroughly kissed that it was all Severus could do to stare, instead of hauling the boy off to his bed. Only a few rooms away. God. "Responsibilities," Harry continued, jerking the man back to reality. Could the boy possibly be starting to UNDERSTAND? It was a bloody miracle, praise be to God, or Allah, or whoever up there had a hand in this. Harry saw the eyebrow begin its ascent, and couldn't contain a smile in response.

Suddenly, the man was looking over Harry's shoulder, his eyes wide. "Albus...I..." Harry whirled to see Dumbledore against the doorframe, where he was leaning far more casually than Harry'd seen the man lean before. He'd apparently been there for some time.

Severus glanced down at Potter, whose ingenuousness was no refutation of his (and likely Severus's) overly pink mouth, tousled hair, and flushed face. Severus realized his own robes had been rumpled and twisted by the boy's roaming hands, and made to straighten them. How the hell were they going to get out of this?