WARNING! WARNING: this fic is R-rated for a reason, people, keep that in mind! Also WARNING: SLASH AND MPREG! IF THIS SQUICKS YOU, LEAVE NOW!
Now, to those of you still here…..
Summary: (For those of you who don't remember this one) I wish I could say this was an original bunny, but it's not…..so here goes:
Response to challenge # 54 (or # 57, they are exactly the same ) at the Mpreg archive.
"Harry has a crush on Severus. He talks Ron or someone else (I'm choosing the latter option because Harry/Ron doesn't sit well with me) into polyjuicing themselves into Severus and having sex with Harry. Harry gets pregnant. When the baby is born it is clearly a Snape. What will Severus do when he finds out?"
I might actually twist this so that the paternity of the child is determined by a spell, but Sev wont be informed until he sees the child for himself. Or perhaps stumbles upon Harry's medical records. I don't know yet, I'm still trying to sort out the technicalities.
But, wicked grin oh, the things I could do….LOL.
Timeline: Another post-Voldemort fic. Begins as we near the end of Harry's 6th year. I'd say it's about February…..
Disclaimer: Okay, so unfortunately, I still don't own anything remotely related to 'Harry Potter'. If I did, the series would be called 'Severus Snape and a whole lot of other meaningless things', and we'd probably all be in a bit of trouble. Now that we've settled the legalities, let's get on with the show. Oh, I should also note that the title comes from Sarah McLachlan's latest offering…which is BRILLIANT, as per usual…and all the chapter titles are also hers…I'm just thankful they fit…and that she has inspired me to pick up my pen and write again….
This was bad, Harry Potter told himself, as he observed his Potion's Master's every move. Absolutely terrible, in fact. He was expected to produce a perfect PepperUp as part of his 6th year revision curriculum -to ascertain that the students were capable to begin to study the more complex potions, and continue on with their NEWTS the next year- but had run into some minor technical difficulties in the ingredients department.
The problem? Essentially it was that he didn't have any of the ingredients. Certainly, this would be easily solved if he were to walk over to the storage cabinet and retrieve some spares from the student stores…..However, the aching erection that he was suffering from at that particular moment prevented him from doing anything at all.
There was NO bloody way he was going to get up in front of the 6th year Gryffindors and Slytherins in his current state. It was utterly humiliating!
And he'd thought he'd gotten over these sorts of embarrassing scenarios during puberty a good three or four years earlier! A derisive snort almost escaped him at the thought. Of course he shouldn't have hoped to be so lucky. After all, nothing ever came easily for him. He was The Boy Who Lived, for Merlin's sake. Forever doomed to a life of dealing with one problem after another.
Whether it be unravelling the Dark Lord as an infant and losing his parents, being shut up under the stairs of his abusive relatives' home, gaining and losing his Azkaban-escapee Godfather or discovering that, unlike most boys his age, he wasn't particularly interested in the female of his species, but rather extremely interested in the males, Harry-Sodding-Potter was forever meeting one complication after another.
And all he'd ever wanted was to be a 'normal' boy. He fought another urge to snort at that. Hermione had attempted to placate him with useless clichés when he had voiced his wish. "But what IS 'normal', Harry?" She'd asked him, thinking that the comment was actually helping.
Naturally, he had snapped, and promptly informed her that normal was NOT having insane, megalomaniac wizards out to kill him. Normal was growing up in a family that DIDN'T lock their children up under the stairs, and attempt to starve them. Normal was NOT fantasising about fucking every boy in the school up against the walls of the castle when he should CLEARLY be thinking about the girls. "Normal, Hermione, Is everything that I'm not!"
And, of course, that little explosion hadn't occurred in privacy, had it? Oh no. It had been right in the middle of one of the grandstands of the Quidditch Pitch, during the Slytherin/Ravenclaw match the previous year. Naturally, every student in the school had witnessed it, causing a fair amount of backlash, gossip, and good old-fashioned fallouts with friends.
And he had thought things couldn't get any worse.
Which was, in hindsight, the most stupid thing he could have done.
The very instant Harry Potter had thrown up his hands and declared that life HAD to be 'all down hill' from there, he had been thrown into battle with the Dark Lord yet again. His closest friends had, of course, surrounded him at the time, and he felt incredibly guilty for every wound that each of them received. Thank Merlin that there were no fatalities amongst them, as he wouldn't have been able to cope with the guilt and the pain of losing even more people that he cared about.
But soon, the battle had been over, and 'Harry Potter' was a name of the past. In fact, so was the irritating epithet that had hounded him for the entirety of his Hogwarts' career to that point. Gone were The Boy Who Lived's glory days, and enter the new title under the spotlight: Neville Longbottom 'The Boy Who Prevailed'.
Apparently, Neville had been the key to Dumbledore's sodding prophecy in the end. And wasn't the old coot's face red! Although, that might have been due to the number of jinxes and hexes Harry had thrown at him for the 5 or so wasted years he had spent being manipulated by the twinkling old fart AND for being put into the Dursley's home after his parents' deaths. Albus, for his part, turned a blind eye to his once-Golden Boy's temper tantrum, feeling that he deserved the attack on his person, and had thanked Harry for all he had done in aid of 'his cause'.
Eventually, Harry calmed down, realising that Dumbledore hadn't actually done anything wrong, and made attempts to pay attention to the world surrounding him once more.
So, it was only predictable that good ol' dependable Neville Longbottom, the Hufflepuff in Gryffindor's clothing, had rocketed to stardom, and Harry Potter had been given his wish. The fickle wizarding public were slowly forgetting about the unfortunate son of Lily and James Potter, and allowing him to live out the rest of his life in peace.
Or so it had seemed at the time.
But, sadly, when the initial shock of the final battle had died down, the Wizarding world started to, once again, acknowledge Harry and his contribution to the war. Only this time, journalists like Rita Skeeter appeared more frequently, and from all over the world, begging for pictures and interviews of he and Neville together and generally leaving him with a bigger headache than any of Voldemort's nightmare-sent visions had ever induced.
Thankfully, after returning from Christmas break, the media hype had worn down and Mr Potter found himself, once again, being lulled into a false sense of contentment and security. Until, of course, he found himself becoming rather…..attached…..to his Potions professor.
Needless to say, it was said 'attachment' which eventually led Harry to his current dilemma; dealing with his painful arousal –surely a simple crush couldn't induce a reaction THIS bad- and somehow still managing to pass the subject by completing his PepperUp potion.
"Potter!" the object of his musings yelled suddenly, causing both Harry and his prick to twitch in anticipation.
"Why is it," the man began, his tone dangerously gentle, oblivious that his velvety voice was making the poor boy even harder, if that was at all possible, "that we are fifteen minutes into our lesson, and you have not yet made any attempt to begin your potion?"
Harry bit back a moan, and swallowed rather audibly. "Sorry, Sir." He managed, hoping beyond hope that his voice was steady and his face impassive. "I….." he glanced around, hoping to find some sort of excuse for his slacking off that did not involve admitting he was struggling with the mother of all erections because one Severus Snape looked positively scrumptious today. "I suppose I sort of……drifted off, Sir."
Well it wasn't a complete lie.
The scrumptious Professor arched an elegant eyebrow. "Indeed, Mr Potter. Perhaps you would like to 'drift off' towards the ingredients cabinet?"
A few Slytherins sniggered. In fact, if Harry were to be completely honest about the situation, he would agree that quite a few of the Gryffindors were also giggling behind his back.
Snape scowled when his student made no move to comply. "Mr Potter!" He snapped. "I suggest you move quickly, because every five seconds from this moment I will be taking one point from Gryffindor for your laziness, until your ingredients are laid out in front of you, and you are working like the rest of your peers."
The giggling and chuckling from the Gryffindors died immediately, and were replaced by groans of despair. "Yes, Sir." Harry sighed, and willed his traitorous member to calm itself -'just a little, PLEASE'- and took a deep breath before rising from his seat.
When nobody laughed at him, he glanced down discreetly and realised that his robes were in such a position that they disguised the tent in his trousers. He almost sighed in relief, before realising that he had to make it all the way to the other side of the room, where the ingredients where kept, and then back to his seat, without shifting his robes and revealing his problem.
"That's already three points gone, Potter." Snape sneered, making his task even more difficult, which was most likely the man's intention, but Harry was sure that his Professor didn't realise exactly how he was causing discomfort. "No…..four, now."
'Here goes nothing' Harry thought to himself, before taking long, purposeful strides across the room.
"Seven points, Potter."
The Gryffindor chewed on his lower lip, visibly attempting to maintain his concentration as he collected his ingredients.
A groan attempted to escape past his lips, and he swallowed it back down as he reached for another bottle from the shelves.
His ingredients balancing precariously in his arms, Harry pivoted and started to walk back.
'Just keep walking. Almost there. Watch out for Malfoy's desk.'
Salvation was staring Harry directly in the face, and he sped up a little, so to reach his desk that tiny bit faster. And then he felt himself stumble. 'Oh, Fuck no.' The Gryffindor had just enough time to see Draco pulling his foot back behind his table, a malicious smirk on his lips. 'The ferret!' Harry swore he'd take his revenge. After he stopped falling, of course.
Severus turned just in time to see Dumbledore's former Golden Boy take a nosedive towards the dungeon floor. Directly in front of Malfoy's desk. Severus fought the urge to shake his head. Honestly, Draco had to learn to be subtler. How he had managed to obtain and keep the 'Prince of Slytherin' title bewildered the Head of House at times.
With reflexes that came purely from his near 20 years as a spy, Snape whipped out his wand and managed to stop Harry's fall, saving both the boy and the valuable potions ingredients from a messy meeting with the cold, stone floor.
"Thankyou, Sir." Potter said, blushing sheepishly.
Severus' scowl deepened. "That's twenty points so far, Potter. Care to make it thirty?"
"He hates me." Harry moaned, collapsing onto the common room couch. "I mean, he really hates me."
Hermione sighed, and seated herself next to him. "I'm sure you're over exaggerating, Harry." She soothed, rubbing reassuring circles on his back, not even pausing to question why Harry was taking Snape's attitude so personally this time. After all, he'd had a rough time of everything, and wasn't known to think his reactions to people through at the best of times. "I mean, he had to play a role for so long, that perhaps he has trouble distinguishing-"
"Oh sod off with your psycho-analytic shite." The Boy Who Lived cut in. At his best friend's hurt look, he softened. " 'Mione, I'm sorry. It's just…..how can that be true? I mean, he's not as…..cruel…..as he used to be, before Voldemort was taken care of, and he's starting to treat all the other Gryffindors somewhat more fairly……he even speaks to Neville civilly. But not me."
"Well you do bait him so…."
"You heard me, Harry Potter." She levelled her gaze at him. "Sometimes…..it's almost as if you go out of your way to annoy him….."
The raven-haired young man glowered. "I do not deliberately try to annoy him." He huffed. "Do you really think I'm that stupid? To try to irritate the man?"
"Well….." She started, avoiding his gaze.
His jaw dropped. "You do!"
She folded her arms over her chest. "Perhaps if you stopped with the sorts of displays like in class today-"
"Displays?" He echoed, mortified. "I didn't do anything!"
"That's just it, Harry." She replied softly, gently running a hand through his hair in a rather motherly gesture of affection. "You completely ignored his instructions until he was forced to snap and take points."
"Completely ignored? 'Mione, I didn't mean to do it!"
"Oh? Then why did you sit there for fifteen minutes-"
"I couldn't very well get up in front of the rest of the class-"
"-then take your time when he asked, rather nicely for Professor Snape actually, for you to get a move on-"
Harry snapped. He'd been doing it quite a lot recently, to be honest. He supposed it was because he was growing extremely frustrated…He needed a good shag. With Professor Snape, if it was at all possible. "Because had I stood up and walked across the room, I would have been the laughing stock of the school!" He paused for a second, before adding; "Again!"
"Oh?" The bushy-haired know-it-all inquired, her head cocked to the side. "Why this time, then?"
"Because, if you must know, I was trying hard not to explode in my trousers because Professor Snape was just so bloody shagable today!"
Attempting to catch his breath after his outburst, Harry's face drained of its colour. He hadn't just yelled that out loud, had he? A quick glance around at the horrified faces of his housemates suggested that he had. With a moan, the Boy Who Lived dropped his head into his hands.
"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed, and pulled him into a hug. "Professor Snape?"
He nodded mutely, burying his face into the crook of her neck, not wanting to see the disgust on his peers' faces. On her face. On Ron's.
"Bloody Hell, mate." Came the voice of his aforementioned redheaded friend, as if on cue. His expression of mortification was soon followed by a predictable question. "Why?"
Harry shrugged, and pulled away from Hermione's embrace. He looked around at the assembled Gryffindors before turning back to his friends. "Can we take this discussion somewhere…..else? Somewhere a bit more private?"
Ron nodded and stood up, but their female counterpart looked as if she were about to protest. She kept looking between Harry, Ron and the clock. The redhead frowned at her. "Give up on following the rules for a bit, 'Mione." He said, acting rather mature for once. "It's not like we're sneaking out to do mischief or get food. Harry needs us."
Realising that Ron was right, for once, Hermione nodded. "Well then, go fetch your cloak, Harry." She demanded, striding to the common room exit. "Hurry along. We haven't got all night, after all."
Smiling gratefully, Harry complied and made his way to his dorm, before returning with his father's invisibility cloak. The trio exited via the portrait hole, and then slipped underneath the material, each crouching down, to ensure the cloak's coverage of their bodies. It was hard to imagine a time when the three of them fit effortlessly underneath the cloak, even though it had been a mere 5 years earlier.
"So, where are we off to, then?" Ron whispered, his breath tickling the back of Hermione's neck.
She smothered a sigh. "Room of Requirement. I believe it's private enough."
Harry nodded, and the small group made their way down the halls as soundlessly as possible. When they reached their destination, Hermione instructed them to all think of a comfortable safe-haven. Perhaps something like the Gryffindor common room, without the other students.
The door appeared in the wall, and the trio stepped into the room, smiling in appreciation. A fire crackled away at the wall on the right, and there were large, plush couches situated strategically in front of the hearth. Also placed in front of the fireplace, was a large coffee table, with an assortment of biscuits and milk, both warm and cold.
Ron leapt towards the food immediately, causing his friends to laugh lightly and follow him towards the comfortable setting. Harry dropped down onto one of the couches, and grinned as he sunk deep into the cushions. His position was so pleasant that he almost forgot all about why they were there in the first place.
Naturally, Hermione did not.
"Harry," she started, hesitantly. "You know we love you….."
He avoided her gaze. "Yeah, I know."
"And we'll accept you no matter what….."
He swallowed. "Uh huh…."
"It's just that…." She floundered for the right words to say, not wanting to upset him any more than he already was. The poor young man was clearly messed up over his feelings as it was; the last thing he needed was to have his friends berate him for things he really could not control.
Harry, ever the hero, swept in to save her from the trouble. "It's wrong of me to want to shag Snape, I know. It's sick, and twisted, and disturbing, and there isn't a day that goes by where I don't wish it was someone –anyone- else."
"That's not what I was about to say…." She said, getting up from her seat, and slipping in beside him. "It's a surprise, is all. I mean, I can see how a person could be attracted to him-"
Ron, who had just taken a nice swig of his warm milk, spluttered and spat it all out onto his robes. "WHAT!" He cried, paying no attention to the mess he had made of himself. " 'Mione, you can't be serious!"
She bristled, and rolled her eyes, realising that the sudden burst of maturity he'd had earlier had disappeared in much the same manner it had arrived. "Honestly, Ron, stop being so childish." She reprimanded, before looking back at Harry. "He is rather enigmatic…..and has a tall, dark, mysterious charm about him…..and, now that he takes more care with his personal appearance, he really is rather stunning, in a classical beauty sort of way…."
"The way you're talking right now makes me wonder if you might have a crush on the bat." Ron snorted.
Hermione glowered at him. "That is far from funny, Ron. Keep this up, and I'll have the room kick you out."
His eyes widened in horror. "You can do that?"
She shrugged. "Most probably."
"So, you don't think it's wrong, and twisted and disturbing?" Harry interrupted, feeling, for the first time in a long while, that maybe –just maybe- everything would be okay.
"Well, I do-" Ron began to reply, before having another chocolate chip biscuit thrust into his mouth. He glared at Hermione as he chewed, and swallowed. "What?" He snapped at her. She gestured towards their other friend, who sat with his head hung in shame and self-pity.
He sighed, "Mate, it's not that I find you twisted and all that……I'm just…..I don't know if I'll ever be okay with the thought of two men together, you know? Especially not my best mate and my greasy, evil git of a Potions professor."
Harry nodded. Ron was trying. Really he was. "Even though Bill is that way inclined as well?" He eventually responded, his green eyes glittering in amusement. Ron had never mentioned his eldest brother's sexuality before. Not even in passing.
The redhead began to nod. "Even though Bill is-" He froze. "Harry, how in Merlin's name did you know that?"
Harry grinned, causing Ron to groan. "On second thoughts, I don't want to know."
The Boy Who Lived burst into laughter, easing the tension between himself and his two best friends further. "Nah, it's all good. George kind of let it slip last time I saw him. You know, when I 'officially' told your family."
"Oh, right." The youngest Weasley male said, taking a deep breath in relief.
Harry smirked and waited another second before adding; "He's not a bad kisser, though, your brother."
All the colour drained from Ron's face, and he hastily set his biscuit aside. "I think I'm going to be sick……"
Hermione rolled her eyes in the redhead's direction, before looking back at the other boy. "But, in all seriousness, Harry," She began, taking his hand in hers, "I know that you can't help who you fall for. Nobody can. There's absolutely nothing wrong with having feelings for Professor Snape….." She paused, as if to consider the truth of her statement, then amended; "Apart from him being your Professor, that is."
Harry chuckled, and accepted her placations. "Thankyou." He said softly, squeezing her hand to show his appreciation. "I'm…..glad I was able to get all that off my chest. I'll admit, I didn't want to mention anything, but I think……I think I needed to."
The girl, to his surprise, nodded, her eyes filling with tears. She wiped them away, angrily, on the sleeve of her cardigan, chuckling softly at herself. "Sorry," she smiled, "I….get a bit emotional every so often, as you well know." She dabbed gently at her eyes. "Stupid hormones. Sometimes it's positively dreadful being a girl."
Harry smiled back, "I can only imagine. Glad it's not me, anyway."
She nodded. "You don't have to put up with cramps, and chocolate cravings, and uncomfortable things-" she toned down the descriptions, knowing that her two male friends were uneasy with issues of feminine hygiene, "-being put in place to prevent blood-"
Ron groaned and covered his ears with his hands. " 'Mione!" He cried, horrified. "Too much information!"
Hermione shook her head. "Honestly, Ron. It's the facts of life. Better to know these things, whether male or female, before getting into trouble later on."
"But, as you just said, we don't have to worry about those things." He countered. "We just have to worry about knocking you up."
Harry winced. Comments like that did not go down well with Hermione Granger. She scowled and, true to form, lunged into a tirade about Ron's immaturity and lack of respect for women. Once finished, she glanced at the clock and gasped. It was 2 hours past curfew! They'd be slaughtered if caught out of Gryffindor Tower at this hour!
"Alright you two," Hermione took command, "Under the cloak this instant. And do try to keep silent. I'd still like for Gryffindor to remain in positive points this year."
The boys complied, and soon the trio were headed back to Gryffindor Tower, safely ensconced in Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, unaware of a pair of storm cloud coloured eyes staring in their direction, aware of their presence in the hallway, and of the conversation which they'd had in the supposed privacy of Hogwarts' Room of Requirement.
A/N –I can't wait for your thoughts on this…..er…again, I mean….