Hey My Wonderful Readers,
I'm having to put "cuts" into my stories to pass the censors. Honestly this piece makes little to no sense with all of the "cuts" inserted. To read the complete version of this story PLEASE go to my Dreamwidth, LiveJournal, or A03 sites. My user name for all of them is also Belladonna1185.
It is really unfortunate that this had to happen, but unless I want my account deleted I have to do it.
A/N: Okay...so fanfiction decided to muck around with this little diddy and I've had to reload it. Ughy. As a result I've gone back through it and re-worked a few things, fixed some grammar and spelling issues, and HOPEFULLY this time it sticks.
Thanks again to all the amazing people who have read and review this story!
The Wicked Week
Chapter 1: Monday, Monday
"Detention right this moment Mr. Potter and fifty points from Gryffindor for you shear lack of brains!"
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived was utterly flabbergasted. Before him stood a very, very unhappy and very, very wet Potions Master. He knew in that moment that the fates were actively conspiring against him, wanting to make his life just a bit more unbearable. Unknowingly, he had dumped a full bucket of "water" all over the man that was meant for his nemesis Malfoy. His prank had gone terribly wrong.
Bollocks!Harry mentally cursed. Couldn't go off without hitch huh?
Risking a glance, Harry looked into the face of the angry Potions Master. Strike that. To say Snape was angry would be like saying Voldemort only had a few daddy issues. He couldn't believe his luck, the one time, the one time he decided to listen to Fred and George and this is what happens.
Never gonna do that again.Harry mused.
"Mr. Potter! Now if you please!"
Knowing that a wet Snape was not going to be a pleasant Snape, Harry sighed and shuffled begrudgingly towards the dungeons for his detention. Whatever the dungeon bat had planned for him was going to make this night an extremely long and painful one.
"Wait here," Snape barked." I have to change my robes. I would do it magically, but I'm sure some other horrible fate would occur if I did. Am I correct?"
"Yes Professor," Harry mumbled.
"And what precisely would have transpired if I had not the gift of foresight?" the older man menacingly growled.
"Your hair would become floor length. Your robes wouldn't be able to be removed for a week and they would both turn neon pink," he reluctantly admitted. "It was meant for Malfoy not you!"
Onyx eyes narrowed into slits. "10 points from Gryffindor... just because I can."
Wisely recognizing that this was the time to hold his tongue in check, Harry had no choice but to watch the soggy robed Potions Master exit the room.
"Stupid git," Harry mumbled. Glancing around the room, Harry decided to plop down on the nearby desk and curse his lot.
Why did he have to be right there? Right in the way. He pondered.
He knew he shouldn't have let himself get dragged into another one of the twins' hair-brained practical jokes, but when it came to Malfoy… Harry couldn't see straight. He just couldn't stand the bleach-blonde bastard. All the slimy Slytherin ever did was act pompous, belittle everyone, and talk about how utterly superior he was to every other living being. Everyone knew that Malfoy paid people to get what he wanted, or rather, his daddy paid for him to look better than he really was. There wasn't a student at Hogwarts who didn't know he bought his way onto the Slytherin Quidditch team. He was good, but not good enough to actually be the team seeker.
If that wasn't bad enough, hehad to be the poster boy for Junior Death Eaters. Just the other day, he had been spouting off more nonsense about purebloods and their apparent superiority over half-bloods and muggle-borns. Harry had wanted to ring the little git's neck when he began talking.
That was when the twins came up with their idea. It sounded so good at the time. But he..he had gotten distracted.
He was loathed to admit it, but Harry had missed his timing due to staring lustfully at Cormac Mclaggen . That guy was the biggest dunderhead, but- oh- did he have a hot little body. It was like the boy was purposefully teasing Harry by walking around with no shirt on. He didn't know why Cormac was like that on his free period, but hey, if the guy wanted to toss the quaffle around with his mates and not wear a shirt, he wasn't going to complain.
Looking at the clock, Harry started to become impatient for his detention to start. The sooner Snape dressed, the sooner the torture started, the sooner he could finally get out of here.
What'staking the dungeon bat so long?
Harry walked steadily towards Snape's office door and then quietly pushed it open the tiniest of slivers.
There before him was Snape. He was completely starkers.
His mouth was watering and his pants began to feel tight at obscene picture before him. Harry swallowed heavily.
It's Snape. It's Snape. Just Snape.
He tried to tell himself. But no matter what he screamed to his brain… his body liked what it saw. And it was just the back. Snape had the nicest ass he'd ever seen, a lovely well toned back, and long firm legs. He'd always thought that under the copious amount of fabric that the Potions Master wore would be a scrawny, weak body.
Who would have thought that the man everyone suspected was a vampire had a most delicious body? No one would ever believe him if he said Snape was...well kinda hot with no clothes on.
Then Snape turned around and sat on the desk.
Harry's brain stopped working.
Cut for Censors
Oh gods, this detention is going to be the worst of my life. I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to look at him again without drooling.
Harry was startled by a tiny *pop*.
"Minkey has your clothes sir," squeaked the tiny elf.
"Thank you. Now get out."
Minkey disappeared just as quickly as she had come.
Jolted out of his lustful haze, Harry bolted from the door (which was a bit hard to do with his pants being so tight) and sat himself down at a desk. He wanted to kick himself for his stupid Gryffindor curiosity. How many times had it lead him into very dangerous, or in this case awkward, situations? Had he never opened the door, he never would have seen the naked man. And now that he had, all he could think of was that Snape was just...Yum.
This is crazy! He is not attractive. Just remember that nose! I hate him! I hate him, but, man that body and that...mmm. Crap! Stop thinking about it! Stop thinking about it. He'll be out here soon!
The minutes ticked away as Harry waited in pure agony for the Potions Master to return.
The office door swung open with a great flourish. Once again immaculately dressed in his trademark robes, Snape stalked towards him.
Harry's pants constricted further as Snape's velvet voice spoke.
"Mr. Potter, you are to scrub out every single last cauldron today. Tomorrow you will be back here at 8 o'clock for another task. Since the side effects from your little prank would have last me a week, I only think it's fitting that we should continue dentition for that same amount of time." Pausing, Snape sat down on the table in front of Harry. "Next time, maybe you'll consider using what little intellect you do posses to not dump things on me."
Blushing furiously at the realization that he had been staring at Snape's crotch the entire time he spoke, Harry whimpered, "Yes Professor."
"Potter, what's wrong with your face?"
"Nothing sir. Nothing at all," he hurriedly answered. Keeping his head down, Harry made his way to the first cauldron.
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"I'm finished Professor."
"So you are Potter. Come up to my desk."
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"Just because you are 'Dumbledore's Golden Boy', does not mean I'll allow you to evade punishment for the stunts you pull. We will have a whole week together Potter," the man said with barely contained pleasure.
"Be here tomorrow at 8 o'clock sharp. You may leave."
Cut for Censors
Completely mortified, Harry ran.
Monday, Monday is a reference to the title of a The Mama's and The Papa's song.