After Curfew

Author's Note-
1)Cute little fic about 'oops, who knew there was a teacher!' Came to me as I was messing around in Starbucks. Boy, that caffeine really gets the creative juices flowing, doesn't it? 2)Uh, yeah, it's a little wacky, so, um, don't ask- its better that way, trust me
3) kind of short, kind of stupid, but I like it.
4) I was listening to The Pirate Queen Soundtrack and Rent while writing this story. Weird, huh?
5)I'm rambling. I'll stop now. Promise.

J.K.'s, not mine, I'm not being paid, yada, yada ya…

my things are(hopefully) rated M for a reason, namely language and smut, and if you found it under HP/DM, there's a reason for that, too. If you don't like slash, then don't read.

After Curfew or How To Freak The Shit Out of Snape

Shit, shit, shit was the thought that ran through Harry's head when he caught sight of Snape gliding around the corner. To be caught in his current position, after curfew, by Snape of all people, would be beyond humiliating. The position the Golden Boy was caught in was actually laughable, if you weren't him. Shoved up against a corridor wall with your 'arch enemy' licking the back of your throat, both of your clothes rumpled and lots of skin showing and being touched- it was the stuff of legends. It would be all over the school in five minutes and reach the Daily Prophet in ten.

Then something amazing happened. Snape glided right past them! It was impossible, but it really happened. Finally, Draco came up for a bit of air, probably sensing Harry's withdrawal. "What's the matter, Hero? Scared of the greasy bat?" Frowning, Harry looked at his lover. "What the hell is going on? Why didn't Snape see us? Or, for that matter, hear us?" Draco just chuckled. "We learned silencing spells in second year, Potter. And disillusionment spells in third."

Harry snorted weakly. "You know that I don't pay attention in class, I'm only interested in you. Which is probably the reason my grades suck." Draco laughed at him. "You know, all you have to do is ask me for help." Harry laughed at him. "The last time you offered that, we ended up ripping all your notes along with our clothes." Draco looked at him hopefully. "But we got such good grades on the test."

"That's because it was a practical in Charms, to see how well we'd learned a cheering charm. Flitwick put us together in the hope that getting the other to laugh would lighten up the tension. He didn't know we weren't laughing because of the charm, but at the memories of the night before." "Ah, those were the good days," mused Draco with a graceful smile on his face. "Of course, the fact that we haven't fought since that day just cemented Flitwick's high opinion of himself." They shared a smug, self-satisfied smile.

Then, Draco thrust his groin against Harry's and ground them together, purring. "You know, we have some unfinished business to attend to, Hero." Harry laughed at the husky note in his lovers voice. "You're right," Harry conceded. "But this time, you top. I'll bet your still store from last night." Draco shook his head mockingly at his lovers statement. "And that pronouncement has nothing to do with your submissive tendencies, does it."

"Of course not."


The next day at breakfast, Hermione was on the warpath.


The shout reverberated throughout the Great Hall, and everyone in her path quickly cowered out of the way. The boy in question had just entered the Hall, clothing rumpled and looking like the cat who had just got the cream. That expression evaporated as he heard her shout. He hurried to her, confusion showing on his face. "What, Hermione?" He was sure he'd done all his homework, and no matter what he had said last night, his grades had improved phenomenally since he started seeing Draco. The knowledge kind of seeped in. "Where were you last night, Harry?" He started, then shifted guiltily. "Well, I kind of had a study date with, uh…"

Suddenly, their audience gasped as a warm, slim arm was slung around Harry's shoulders. He looked to his right just as Draco said, "Me. He had a study date with me last night." No one in the area missed the emphasize Draco had put on date. Hermione just raised her eyebrow, then suddenly they snapped down into a frown as she come to a conclusion. "You mean, you have been avoiding me and Ron to study with Malfoy? But it must have worked, since his grades are improving drastically." She mused the last part to herself.

Hermione suddenly smiled at Draco- after all, smart people were her favorite kind of people, and Mal- uh, Draco, had to be smart if he managed to pound some knowledge into Harry's thick head. "Would you like to sit with us for breakfast, Draco?" She asked. "I want to ask you about that potion we made in class yesterday." "Sure, but only if you explain how you changed your table to a flying carpet in transfiguration. That was bloody brilliant!"

The rest of the school looked on in amazement as six and a half years of hatred vanished in the barrage of questions the smartest people in the school were asking each other. They watched as Harry smiled bemusedly at his lover's back, then gestured to Ron. "Well, lets go get some food, then, shall we?" The two followed leisurely behind the rapidly talking teens ahead of them.

At the head table, Snape watched in disgust as his favorite student (not to mention, his godson!) sat at the Gryffindor table, and stole food from bloody Potter's plate. Dumbledore noticed, and smiled at the poor man. "Don't worry, Severus. It's only going to get worse. Just wait until they start snogging in the hallways."

Snape sputtered, utterly confused. He turned to demand an explanation from the Headmaster, but seeing the man's damnable twinkle, he just growled in frustration. Whatever he had meant, Snape was sure it would probably make him sick. But that was his lot in life, being perpetually disgusted by the antics of teenage and preteen brats that consumed his day. Though perennially frustrating, at least it kept his life interesting, and allowed him to escape the unwelcome attentions of such undesirable people like Trelawney, who was, Salazar forefend, talking to him.