Author: The Plot Bunny Whisperer
Title: 21 Ways To Give Your Lover a Migraine
Summary:Companion story to "At Least It's Not Contagious". Sev ate the last slice of chocolate cheesecake, therefore he deserved punishment. Or at least, that's the excuse Harry was going with.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't care…. Do I really have to do this every single time?
AN: I blame alcohol.
21 Ways To Give Your Lover a Migraine
Severus deserved it. He really did. Sure it may be a bit cruel, and perhaps a little over the top, but really, could anyone blame him?
He ate the last slice of chocolate cheesecake, for Merlin's sake! The one that Harry had been looking forward to all day – fantasizing about every bite of creamy, smooth chocolate with its three layers and extra thick crust with just the tiniest hint of peppermint schnapps….
Just the thought of it was making him drool.
And then that blasted snarky, sharp-tongued, constantly PMSing, godly in bed lover of his (with that impossibly sexy voice) just up and ate it without so much as a by-your-leave.
This, of course, meant war.
Number One: Bribe a Third Year Ravenclaw to purposefully screw up in Potions Class with a three day pass into the Restricted Section.
"I don't know." Amelia Brownheart looked at him skeptically. "I mean, if I do it I probably won't get out of detention until I graduate, and what's thatgoing to do to my grade average, I wonder. Not to mention that Ravenclaw with be in the negatives until April and I'll lose my privilege to use the Ravenclaw Library if that happens, and I do have OWLS in two years, you realize, I'll need to get a head start."
Harry stared at her in blank amazement and wondered if Hermione had somehow died and been reborn thirteen years ago and conveniently forgotten to tell him.
"How does a no-holds-barred pass into the Restriction Section sound?"
A decidedly Slytherin gleam entered the thirteen-year-old's eyes, and Harry decided he would worry about Slytherins actually taking over the world if they had managed to infiltrate so seamlessly into another house later.
"Three or the offer goes to someone else."
Number Two: Bribe a Third Year Hufflepuff to purposefully screw up in Potions Class with a No-Interruption Guarantee midnight snog session with his girlfriend.
"And what do I get out of it?"
Harry stifled the urge to slap his face. Damnit, but the Slytherin's were taking over the world, and in such a clever way, too!
Then again, maybe it was his fault; especially after it got out that he was able to convince the Hat not to put him in Slytherin….
"You've been caught with Miss Aberdeen four times this month, yes?"
"Yeah," said Roger McDunsten suspiciously.
"Well, it just so happens that I'll be patrolling Tuesday night, and I can manage to be conveniently busy between, say, eleven forty-five and twelve-thirty…."
Number Three: Make sure they're in the same class.
"You're sure you two will be in the same class on that particular day?"
"Yes, Professor Potter," said Amelia.
"As good as," said Roger.
"Completely and utterly positive?"
"YES!" they both shouted, scowling.
"…No need to shout, I was just making sure…."
The two Third Years traded commiserating looks and sighed.
If Snape wasn't such a git, they'd pity him.
Number Four: Bribe your boss to help you complete your dastardly plans (Ha! Like he needs bribing…) with a one-year supply of lemon drops.
"Harry, my dear boy, surely Severus doesn't deserve to be tortured for such an infraction."
"Albus, you need to stop taking melodrama lessons from Severus, and he ate the last slice of chocolate cheesecake. Mychocolate cheesecake!" Dumbledore gavehim a sympathetic look. "Besides, it's not torture, just… positive reinforcement. And you can't deny that this place could do with a bit of cheering up, now could you."
"Well, I suppose…."
"Of course, if you don't wantthis year supply of lemon drops voucher from Honeydukes that I managed to win in their monthly drawing and just so happen to conveniently have in my pocket, I suppose I could just exchange it for a compensation prize…."
A moment of silence.
And just a tad bit of drooling.
"What was it you wanted me to do again?"
"Just make sure to nod your head and Twinkle a lot."
Number Five: Bribe the House Elves into giving you a lot of sugar with a multitude of cookbooks, even though your lover threatened to turn them into potions ingredients.
"One triple-chocolate raspberry torte and make it a double, please."
"But Mr. Harry Potter Sir, Mr. Snapie Sir told us we is never to give you sugar on pains of becoming pickled, Sirs!" The House Elf stared at him with wide, tennis-ball eyes, clutching its ears in abject terror at the mere thought of being cut up and stuffed into a jar of vinegar. The other kitchen elves held themselves in similar fashions, one even going so far as to tie a piece of rope into a noose.
"What if I promise not to tell him?"
"Oh, no, Sirs, we mustn't! Mr. Snapie said we be turned into a pot of smelly goo is we gives you sugar! Oh no, no, no! We can'ts be turned into a pot of smelly goo, we can'ts!"
"I'll give you fifty cookbooks and blame the Headmaster if Severus asks."
The Elves went silent and started whispering amongst each other.
"Dark or milk chocolate, Sirs?"
Number Six: Owl Fred and George for ideas. Bribe them with Penseive copies.
To Our Beloved Benefactor,
Who is oh so wise, so handsome, a man among men, and so unfortunately taken! How we swooned from happiness when we received your letter! That you would call upon us lowly peons for pranking advice, our chests swelled with pride (not to mention our ego)! As for what that dastardly man you fell in love with (and forever shall we wonder how in the bloody hells that happened) dared to do – blasphemous! He so rightly deserves punishment for such a crime!
May we suggest something so terrifying, so horrible, so incredibly evil that it would be a wonder if you were not crowed the Next Dark Lord?
And if you don't follow through with your promise we shall endeavor to make sure you never eat chocolate again….
Number Seven: Create a Prank Club and then tell your lover you did so.
Mwuaha! The plan was working!
Just that morning, Miss Brownheart and Mr. McDunsten had their potions class. To Harry's delight, the potion on the syllabus just happened to be a colour changing potion and both students played their parts perfectly. Miss Brownheart had a suspiciously smug countenance all through lunch (most likely due to the Pass that had mysteriously appeared in her bag somehow - it was an absolute riddle how it got there, it truly was) and Mr. McDunston couldn't stop staring at his girlfriend and drooling, which had Gloria Aberdeen wondering if she should take him to Madam Pomphrey or just send him to St. Mungoes and be done with it.
And Severus, his poor, poor Severus, looked absolutely pitiful... to the well-trained eye.
Harry made sure to stifle the urge to belt out insane laughter, Evil Genius Style, before veritably pouncing on his poor, unsuspecting (although highly suspicious) lover.
"SevSevSev! Guess what?" His lover sighed and looked at him in resignation.
"I'm not going to bother answering such an asinine question, as you are bound to tell me anyway. Please inform me to the culprit of this impending disaster, so I may thank them for allowing me the pleasure of their timely and gruesome death."
Riight. As if he was going to reveal his partners in Chocolate Cheesecake Revenge. He adopted a look of confusion and bounced in his seat.
"Dunno what you're talking about, but guess what! I…," pause for effect, "am going to start a prank club!"
There! That look! That look of abject horror that on Severus's face that Harry had done such a horrendous thing was so worth the beat-down he was going to get from Hermione when she realized her entire cookbook collection was gone from her library.
Harry managed not to cackle, but only just.
Number Eight: Give Peeves the Dungbombs the Twins sent with instructions on where to use it after bribing him with more if he follows through.
"And there's more of these, you say?" Harry nodded enthusiastically.
"Oh yes! As part owner of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes I haveaccess to all of their merchandise. If you follow my instructions exactly, I'll give you a case of them by the end of the week."
Peeves grinned and saluted him. "Mr. Potter, you have yourself a deal!" He cackled madly and zoomed off down the corridor.
Harry snickered and hummed softly to himself, "Oh Potter, you Rotter, look what you've done; you've given Peeves Dungbombs, and he's gonna have fun..."
Number Nine: Deny involvement when confronted by your lover.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Severus growled and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Harry, there is no other possible way that Peeves could have gotten hold of thatmany Dungbombs without setting of Filtch's, as you call it, "Shit's Happening" senses."
"You mean Filtch's "There's-Shit-Going-Down" radar, and I still have no idea what you're talking about."
"Do mean to tell me that you haveno idea whatsoever how Peeves managed to get a hold of twenty-five Weasley Dungbombs which he then proceeded to throw at a very, very old suit of armor with a nasty temperament which then saw fit to chase Peeves halfway across the dungeons, destroying no more that four statues, seven portraits, and a bust, and end up, unfortunately, in my classroom where they both ended up causing no small amount of trouble, the results of which happened to be the destruction of half the dungeons, including two bathrooms and the Slytherin Common Rooms?"
"Nope, no idea whatsoever. That's quite the bit of bad luck you've had there, Sev."
Severus growled, gave him Glare Number Eighteen (I-Know-You-Did-It-And-Once-I-Figure-Out-How,-I'm-Going-To-Make-Your Life-Hell), and went to go bitch at the Headmaster.
Not that he'd ever admit to bitching.
Number Ten: Nurse rumors about the entire incident through the Hogwarts Grapevine.
Sometimes, Harry was really grateful for airheads. Although annoyingly daft when it came to realizing that, yes, Harry was indeed gay, and no, he wasn't going to leave Severus to marry them, they could be dead useful when it came to gossiping.
Harry was very careful to make sure that it looked as though he and Headmaster Dumbledore were having a 'secret' conversation. Dumbledore, of course, was happy to go along with it - he'd agreed, after all. A lemon drop voucher was a valuable thing.
"How are the repairs going, Headmaster?"
"I'm afraid, dear boy, that it's going to take a bit longer. There was quite a bit of damage, after all."
"How are the students? I heard a few were sent to the Hospital Wing."
"Just some minor scrapes, they're perfectly fine, of course. I do wonder whatever persuaded Peeves to act out against that particular suit of armour, but I suppose that is a mystery for another time."
Harry watched out of the corner of his eyes as the little blonde Gryffindor ran off with an eager look on her face and grinned. He held up a slip of parchment.
"One One-Year Lemon Drop Voucher, as promised." Dumbledore twinkled.
"A pleasure, my boy."
Number Eleven: Make sure the Slytherin's temporary dormitories are drafty in some areas and hot in others so they'll complain to their Head of House. A lot.
"Professor Snape, I really must insist you ask the Headmaster to find us better accommodations! The walls are a disgusting shade of colour that is giving us all headaches, part of the girls' dormitories are entirely too hot and I've had to send three first years to the infirmary for catching colds from the drafts! Not to mention that we're practically next door to the Gryffindors of all people, and it's enough trouble to keep civil war from breaking out as it is!"
"Miss Graven, you're two floors away on opposite sides of the castle. That is notnext door to the Gryffindors. There is unfortunately little I can do about the wall colours, so you're going to haveto just live with it, and Madam Pomphrey has clearly stated that if another one of my Slytherins ends up in the infirmary with imaginary ills, she's going to refuse service for the rest of the year for anything less than imminent death. I assure you, Miss Graven, that the Headmaster is doing the best that he can to get the situation fixed in a timely manner, and it should only be for little while longer."
Harry snuck away from the door as the Head Girl, who happened to be a Slytherin this year, picked up her rant again to lay down more complaints, seemingly from every Slytherin in the castle. Once far enough away, he cackled to himself and made a note to send the House Elves a few more cookbooks.
Number Twelve: Make sure to look completely innocent at dinner, even if your lover suspects you're lying.
Glare Number Twenty-four (I'm-Absolutely-Positive-You-Did-It,-And-I-Will-Find-Out-How) met him as he took his seat that night at dinner.
Innocent Grin Number Thirteen (You-Go-Ahead-And-Try-If-It-Amuses-You) was the response.
Number Thirteen: Work with employer-slash-cohort to make sure it's a few days before the Slytherins can return, even though the repairs were finished in half an hour.
"Are you sure Severus won't be able to find out?"
"I'm positive, my dear boy. I had the Elves cordon off that part of the dungeons to keep wandering students and Heads of Slytherin away. When shall you like them to return?"
"Oh, I think three days will be plenty. remind me to boy the Elves more cookbooks."
"Ah, yes, they're requesting Asian cuisine this time."
"...I swear to Merlin, Slytherins are taking over the world and are infecting the House Elves as well."
Number Fourteen: Give your lover a false sense of security by letting things calm down.
Harry watched in amusement as Severus slowly relaxed as a few days passed without anything horrible and sanity-threatening happening, and smiled.
Like he was going to let his lover off that easily...
Number Fifteen: Raid McGonagall's stash of confiscated candy. Revenge isn't fun if you're not hyper.
Harry checked the Map again, just to make sure he was in the clear. Seeing that he was still safe, he quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside.
"Lumos." The tip of his wand lit up to reveal a neat and orderly office with walls lined with bookshelves and filing cabinets, several portraits, and a huge mahogany desk.
He ignored everything but the filing cabinet at the very end. He did a few more unlocking charms, removed the alarm trigger and the sleeping gas booby-trap, and reverently opened the drawer.
He drooled mightily at the veritable feast of chocolate frogs and sugar quills, and dived in head-first.
Number Sixteen: Slip a potion in the pumpkin juice barrel after making sure the House Elves are distracted by a shiny ball.
"Look! A shiny ball!" Harry threw a glittery bouncy-ball that he borrowed from one of the first-year muggleborns further into the kitchen. He had always found it highly amusing that the House Elves could be so easily distracted by such an innocuous thing, but this time it worked in his favor.
Quickly, he slipped the color-changing potions that the Third Year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class had made along with one of Gred and Froge's new inventions into that night's pumpkin juice and made a quick getaway before the House Elves could catch the ball and then demand more cookbooks.
Number Seventeen: Charm the ceiling to rain magical tie-dye confetti.
Harry balanced carefully on his brook stick, lumos-lit wand clenched firmly between his teeth as he fixed the giant disco-ball in place. He'd been wondering exactly how he was going to pull off this last prank before he remembered the ball he'd seen in the Charm's closet.
Why Professor Flitwick had a giant disco-ball, he'll never know. Frankly, he didn't want to.
He'd filled it with the magical confetti that Luna had given him for his birthday and set off in the middle of the night to the Great Hall. He'd wanted to make sure no one saw him up there for deniability reasons, and besides, there was something absolutely thrilling about being out in the dead of night like some sort of prank bandit.
Sighing in relief as the ball held in place, he quickly charmed it invisible and set it to explode on a magical timer, and hoped to all hells that he could convince Severus that he had merely fallen asleep in his office while grading papers and wasn't out causing twelve kinds of mischief at three in the morning.
...perhaps he should write a will?
Number Eighteen: Laugh your ass off when the entire student body is turned into a parody of "Willy Wonka on Crack".
Okay, so it was going to be hard to get the colours out of his robes, but seriously, this had got to be the best plan he'd ever had.
Number Nineteen: Vehemently deny involvement, even though everyone knows it was your fault.
"Harry, why in the world did you feel the need to turn the entire school population into modern art?"
"Why do you automatically assume I did it?"
"Perhaps, Harry," his lover ground out through his teeth, "because you did it."
"Severus, I'm hurt you would assume such of me."
Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Harry eyed him. He supposed Severus had been punished enough and decided to tell the truth. It was fun while it lasted.
Besides, he was out of ideas, and Severus was out of migraine relieving potions.
Number Twenty: Tell your lover the truthful answer to your actions and let him make it up to you.
Severus stared at him incredulously.
"That's why you been torturing me all week?"
Harry frowned. "Well, I wouldn't call it torture, exactly, and where do you people get the idea that a few harmless pranks equates torture?"
Severus suppressed the urge to scream.
"Harmless prank? You had Peeves blow up my potions lab!" Harry placed his hands on his hips.
"I did no such thing! I had him Dungbomb a suit of armor! It's not my fault the armor decided to chase him halfway across the dungeons into your potions lab during a NEWT class! Besides, it's not like it was permanent, the Elves were done fixing everything by dinner!"
"And this was all because I ate the last slice of cheesecake?"
"The last slice of my favorite triple layer chocolate cheesecake with the double-thick crust and the barest hint of peppermint schnapps! The one I'd been looking forward to all day."
Severus was silent for a moment. He closed his eyes and sighed.
"If I make it up to you will you promise to end this… vendetta against me?" Harry's eyes glinted teasingly.
"Gee, I don't know. It all depends on how exactly you make it up to me…."
One Hour Later
"Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes! You wonderful, fabulous man! More! More!"
Severus stared blank-faced as Harry dove into his third slice of triple layer chocolate cheesecake with a hint of peppermint schnapps – the same one they buy once a month from the bakery in Hogsmead.
"Perhaps the insanity is contagious," he muttered.
Of course, he'd never admit that as long as he had Harry, he didn't so much mind the prospect of losing his sanity.
Harry looked up at his lover with a fond smile, finally reaching his chocolate intake quota for the day.
"I love you, Severus."
His lover sighed.
"Merlin knows why, but I love you too, you impossible brat."
Number Twenty-One: And then make him sleep on the couch.
"Harry, open the door! I will not put up with this childishness, now open this door right now!"
A giggle cake from behind the door at the same instance a House Elf popped into the room, deposited a pile of blankets and pillows on the sofa, and popped back out.