Notes: This has been languishing in a dark folder somewhere for a long time. The working title was An Ode to Snape's Nose (yes, it's crackfic), and since I wasn't getting anywhere with it, I figured I might as well post it as-is and finally remove something from my WIP folder. Was going to be a longer story involving Snape unwittingly seducing Harry by way of nosesomeness, but that won't happen.

Warnings: Crackfic, Harry having a somewhat-disturbingly-described fixation with Snape's nose (sort of Harry/Snape, in other words) and an abhorrent abuse of alliteration.


Snape has a nose.

Not that that's much of a surprise; most people have noses, Voldemort being the most notable exception. Nevertheless, most people do have noses, and regardless of personal opinion, Snape qualifies as a part of "people", and as such, has a nose.

Harry shakes his head a bit to clear his eyes of hair, glancing up from behind black bangs to catch a glimpse of the room. The nose in question is not in his immediate vicinity, which is of no particular comfort, seeing as his potion is giving off a foul odour and tendrils of faintly green smoke; if he hadn't thought of such things on multiple occasions before, he'd think he was getting high on the fumes, since it sure as hell doesn't look like it's supposed to.

At least it's still liquid.

Somewhat.

He gives it an experimental counter-clockwise stir, and immediately resigns himself to another failing grade.

It's not that Snape's nose is abnormal or something - it merely has a presence of its own. It's just there, between two sleek eyebrows and a pair of dark eyes and a thin, pale mouth. The bridge of his nose juts out a little - perfect for wearing glasses, Harry thinks - and it's fairly hooked, just short of looking like a beak, which fits his eagle-eyed glare to a T. It was probably broken at some point, which his inner voice decrees a sacrilegious crime.

Harry huffs a little and shifts in his seat. It's just so unfair that a man like Snape - Snape, of all people - has such a pretty nose. How can he be expected to work under such conditions? (Under Snape, his other head thinks, might not be such a bad position, but he valiantly tries not to listen.) It's bad enough that Ron's muttering about 'slimy Slytherins in their dank dungeons' and 'pretentious pricks' (which might have given him an Outstanding in English but was decidedly bad for their collective Potions grade) while Hermione moans about how utterly and completely stupid it was to throw the porcupine quills in two seconds too late - as a cruel addition, he's aware of his teacher's prominent (and just a tiny bit attractive) nose. Harry might have to drop off the Astronomy Tower before his Occlumency lesson if this thing continues, because he can't occlude worth shit and Snape will be digging for dirt.

It's not just Snape's nose, though. Harry has always remembered noses. It's one of those quirks few people ever talk about, because it tends to be misinterpreted, and it's mostly just an aesthetical appreciation that may or may not attain an aspect of sexual attraction. Harry has a particular appreciation for hooked noses, but it has to be the right kind - Krum had a hooked nose, too, and while he was attractive, Harry wasn't attracted to him.

He's heard dozens of students complain about Snape's looks in conjunction to a rant about homework and how totally biased he is (which he totally is), but as far as Snape's nose is concerned, it's an unfair assessment. In his fantasies, Snape can make him come just by brushing his nose against Harry's neck, something he has a hard time admitting to himself even when that infamous nose, with it's angular masculine curve, is mere metres away and accentuated by stern lips, pressed together until there's wrinkles at the edges...

Oh, shit.

Snape's mouth curls in eager anticipation of torture, and before he can catch himself, Harry gets a little distracted by the grimace that's only just short of a smile, even if it's a cruel one.

"Detention, Potter."

Snape's velvety voice rips him right out of dreamland and sends shivers down his spine.

Fine, so there's a bit more green smoke than there should be, and he thinks he might have turned the slightest bit delirious, as he just thought Snape's thin mouth was rather nice.

He's lucky no answer is required, as he can only manage a sharp nod, fully aware that he's looking more unsettled than angry, but he can't bring himself out of it.

Hermione hisses something intelligible at him. He sends a vague smile in her general direction and gives Ron's half-asleep form a sharp tap. Ron jerks and glares at him, lower lip jutting out sullenly.

"You were snoring," Harry says.

"Was not," Ron grumbles, voice gritty with sleep as he rubs at his eyes.

"You remember touching those potion ingredients, right?" Harry says, trying to stifle a grin, but when Ron's hand jerk away from his face so quickly that it hits the edge of their table with a painful thud, it escapes anyway.

"If I turn blind, it's your fault," Ron says, staring apprehensively at his hands as he clenches one around the other. It'll probably bruise.

"If you hadn't fallen asleep-"

"Another detention, Potter."

Harry manages to glare without much effort, and turns to Ron when Snape's attention is finally diverted by yet another impending potion-related crisis.

"If this keeps up I'm gonna start thinking he likes my company," Harry mutters.

Ron chokes, and Hermione sighs heavily as she grabs Neville's hand over the cauldron.

"Don't," she says. "That would explode."

Neville squeaks, turns green - or perhaps that's just the fumes - and drops the newt eyes into the cauldron.