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Morgaine\'s Thread	By : Escritora80 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 17363 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction set in the Harry Potter universe – all recognisable characters and settings are the property of J. K. Rowling and her associates. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this work.

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A/N: Thanks to everyone for your reviews! I'm hoping to be able to update this story once a week from now on. ^_^

Chapter Four

Harry balanced precariously on the second rung from the top of the library ladder, running the tip of his wand over the spines of the dusty books on the top shelf looking for bookworms. The punishment Dumbledore had given him included de-worming every infected book in the library, and since books that contained powerful spells were more susceptible to infestation, Harry had been instructed to start in the Restricted Section.

Ron and Hermione were seated at a table a few stacks away, hidden from his sight but well within earshot, working on their homework together while waiting for Harry to finish his detention. He would have to go straight from his last class to the library and work until supper time every day until the job was finished, and when the Christmas holiday rolled around, his detention would extend even longer since he wouldn't have the excuse of classes to keep him away. His friends had decided to accompany him to his first detention since they hadn't seen much of him during his vigil at Snape's bedside, but they were more of a distraction than a comfort as Hermione berated Ron for his apathetic approach to school work.

"Are you even trying?" she asked, forgetting to lower her voice. Harry heard Madam Pince's hushed reprimand from across the room, followed by Hermione's stage whisper, “You knew every answer to these questions two weeks ago, so how in the world did you fail your test? I'm beginning to think you were hit with the same spell that stole Professor Snape's memories.”

Harry fumbled with the book he'd pulled off the shelf, suffering a pang of guilt that he hadn't told his best friends the truth about Snape and his 'injuries.'

"I've had a lot on my mind," Ron said. He sounded meek compared to Hermione, as if she'd finally cowed him into submission when it came to homework and studying. "It's almost time to eat. Can't we go now?"

That sounded more like the Ron Harry knew. He tucked the book under his arm and climbed down the ladder, weaving his way through the rows of shelves until he reached the table where Hermione and Ron were sitting.

"I'm with Ron," he said, placing his latest find on the top of a pile of books waiting to be de-wormed. "Everyone else is probably already at the Great Hall. I just need to finish with these books and I'll be right behind you."

Hermione reluctantly closed her textbook. "Are you sure, Harry? We could stay and help you ..."

"No, no, I'll be fine." He waved them off with a good-natured grin, waiting until they were out of sight before he sank down into Ron's vacated chair with a weary sigh. He didn't mind the punishment -- as Dumbledore had pointed out, it could have been far, far worse -- but he couldn't help thinking that he'd been cheated somehow. He had all the consequences of his actions but none of the benefits, not even a fresh start with Snape.

Don't be greedy, Harry, he scolded himself. Snape is alive, and that's the only thing that matters.

He picked up the book on top of his pile and opened it, flipping through the pages to see if there was any visible damage. Bookworms were short, flat and white, blending in easily with the pages they fed from in their early stages before gradually growing darker and chubbier with the amount of ink they consumed. Most of the bookworms he'd removed so far had been pale and dormant, attached to the spines of the books and easily banished with Evanesco. Active bookworms were a bit trickier depending on the book they inhabited. Harry had never put much stock in the power of the written word until he'd tried to kill a bookworm that had eaten an entire chapter on protection spells. Once the worm was dead, any words it had eaten instantly reappeared on the book's pages, something that Harry found quite rewarding, but most of the books carried fresh worm-repelling charms that led to dormant infestations. Harry started looking forward to the sight of a blank page or missing chunks of paragraphs just to break the monotony. The punishment was so tediously boring that Harry started to wonder if it had been Dumbledore's idea at all.

"Ten galleons says that this was all Snape's idea," he muttered.

"I'll take that bet," Snape's low, luscious voice whispered in his ear.

"Gah!" Harry dropped the book just as a sharp pain shot through his chest.

"Sssh, this is a library." Snape's fingers curled around Harry's neck before sliding up to his chin. He tilted Harry's head back so he could look into his eyes. "Am I going to have to keep you quiet?"

He acted before Harry could respond, bending down to press a soft kiss to Harry's lips, and managing to do it quite well considering the awkward angle. His fingers drifted back down to Harry's throat, gently holding him in place as he coaxed Harry's mouth open with his tongue.

At first, Harry couldn't get past the initial shock of Snape is kissing me to react, but as the kiss deepened and Snape's tongue flicked against his own, instinct kicked in and he jerked his head away, rubbing the back of his hand against his lips in a half-hearted attempt at disgust. "What are you doing?"

"Library ... yes," Snape murmured before he straightened up and pulled out the chair next to Harry, dropping a stack of letters onto the table as he sat down. He wore dark trousers and an ill-fitting green t-shirt that looked like he'd borrowed it from Hagrid, the faded fabric splotched and stained with what Harry guessed to be old potion experiments. His hair was as long as it had been in the hospital wing, a few inches past his shoulders, and it kept falling into his face, requiring him to brush it away with his fingers or shake it out of his eyes with a toss of his head.

"What about the library?" Harry congratulated himself on sounding so calm and composed when his first impulse had been to grab Snape by the collar and demand to know why the hell he'd kissed him ... again. Was this Snape's version of a running gag? Harry was not amused.

"I'm compiling a list of all the places and times that you consider 'proper' for a snog. Library, hospital wing ... I suppose I should add 'during detention' as well."

While his shock at the kiss never faded, Harry had to laugh when he realized what Snape alluded to with his little taunt, recalling the cheeky way he'd responded to Snape when being asked if he wanted the Kiss. He only had himself to blame for giving Snape the ammunition and the opportunity to tease him like this. What other cringe-worthy things had he said that night? No doubt Snape would remind him. "You really remember everything."

"Every last detail."

"Then you should know I said for you to ask me if I wanted a snog, not just kiss me whenever you felt like it."

"But I want your natural reaction," Snape argued amiably, as if his efforts in discovering Harry's kissing preferences were simply a matter of intellectual curiosity. He picked up the book Harry had dropped, turning it over in his hands, a restless energy imbued in his every movement. "By the way, you owe me ten galleons. Albus dreamed up this punishment all on his own. He doesn't always use his powers for good, you know."

Harry did know, but he wasn't sure why Snape was talking so casually to him about it. Did a blast of the Chronos Curse finally succeed in removing the stick from Snape's arse? Or was it possible that, before joining the Death Eaters and mucking up his life, Snape hadn't been the same prickly bastard who lived to terrorize his students? Either way, this chummy chat they were having made Harry nervous.

He snatched the book back from Snape and resumed his worm hunt. "Is there a reason you're here? Other than investigating my fondness for snogging in the library, that is."

Snape shoved the stack of letters towards Harry. "Do you know what these are?"

Harry gave them a cursory glance before focusing back on the book, his answer soaked in sarcasm, "I don't know, could they be ... letters?"

"These are love letters. Love letters, Potter." Snape scowled at the offensive stack. "People I don't know, some old enough to be my grandmother, are writing to tell me how much they admire me, or how they long to meet me, or how they want to corner me in a dark room, rip off my clothes, and suck on my --"

"That's enough," Harry interrupted him. "I don't want to hear all the gory details. You're a hero now, and, against all odds, a popular one. It's inevitable that you start to get letters from your fans. Why not enjoy it?"

"I'm not like you, Potter," Snape sneered. "I don't want everyone to love me."

Harry glared at Snape, falling easily back into their old bickering ways. It was liberating to be able to say exactly what he wanted to Snape without having to worry about losing points for Gryffindor or getting a detention. "I fail to see how your new-found popularity is any concern of mine. Either get to the point or leave me alone so I can finish this and go eat."

Snape pulled out his wand and gave it a sharp flick, sending all the library books shooting off the table and back to their homes on the shelves. "There. You're finished. Care to give me your full attention?"

"I hadn't de-wormed those books yet!" Harry snapped at him, furious that he'd gone to the trouble of finding all those infected books and now he'd have to search for them all over again tomorrow. At this rate, he'd have detention well into next year.

"My problem first," Snape said, scooting his chair closer to Harry's. He looked around to see if anyone was nearby, but Madam Pince was nowhere in sight and all the students had already gone to supper. Satisfied that they were alone, Snape placed his wand on the table and picked up the stack of letters, waving it in Harry's face. "These are your fault, Potter. I'm in this mess because a spell that was meant to hit you hit me instead."

"I didn't ask you to save me!"

"Well, I didn't ask you to save me either, but you did it anyway, which makes this doubly your fault. If I'd died like I was supposed to, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Most people would be happy to be alive."

"Most people aren't being badgered by 80-year-old witches who feel the need to include nude photographs with their pornographic propositions!" Snape said, slamming the letters down on the table. He invaded the scant personal space Harry had left and grabbed Harry by the back of the neck, bringing their faces close together. "You owe me, Potter. I want compensation, and you're going to give it to me."

Harry hoped his expression didn't betray the excitement he felt at hearing Snape's demand, which was vague enough that Harry could imagine all sorts of things that Snape might want from him -- things he'd be all too willing to give him. He kept his gaze focused on Snape's nose so he wouldn't lose himself in those dark, arresting eyes. "What exactly do you want me to do?

"I want you to date me."

"You want me to what?"

"Date. Me." Snape enunciated each word carefully, waiting for Harry's bewildered response of, "Oh," before he explained the reasoning behind his request. "If the wizarding world believes that I'm dating you, the Harry Potter, then it's less likely that these witless fans of mine will think they stand a chance with me." A mocking smile spread across Snape's face. "Who in their right mind would compete against the wizarding world's Golden Boy in matters of the heart? Once the papers get wind of our romance, no one with half a brain will want to be known as the scheming witch or wizard who tried to steal away the love of Harry Potter's life. Imagine the jinxes and the hexes that person would face! I've thought about this long and hard, Potter, and it's the best solution to my problem."

"Won't people think this is all a little ... sudden? Everyone believes that you've lost your memory, which technically makes us strangers."

"A stranger who sat at my bedside for hours on end, who nursed me back to health and brought me comfort at a time when my whole world was turned upside down. It's only natural that I've fallen for you ... at least, that's what the papers will say. I should know, I've given them a brief interview on the subject."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You already told them that we're in a relationship?" He shrugged off Snape's hand and stood up. "No, I'm not doing this. Write a letter to whoever interviewed you and tell them you were delusional when you talked to them the first time. I won't be your decoy just because you can't be bothered to deal with people like any other normal human being."

Snape grabbed the bottom of Harry's shirt to keep him from leaving. "Have you forgotten that your freedom depends on my silence?"

"Have you forgotten that you can't stand me? What makes you think we could pull this off?"

"Your acting skills may be atrocious, but I've made an art out of deception. I could convince the wizarding world I was in love with Longbottom if I had to ..."

"It's too much to ask ..."

"You were willing to bond yourself to me but you won't pretend to be my boyfriend for the rest of the school year?"

Harry stiffened. Those were two entirely different things, but he couldn't explain that to Snape without making a major confession about his feelings for him. Snape took Harry's silence as a signal for him to press his case.

"This isn't just about the lunatics sending me letters. Dating you will also keep these starry-eyed students off my back. That Weasley girl winked at me as I passed her in the hallway." Snape shuddered. "She didn't seem fazed by the look of absolute loathing I gave her, and from what I remember of how teenage girls think, a personality like mine coupled with my new social status will make me seem charmingly aloof and irresistibly unattainable. I'll be deluged with little presents and notes passed during class and love potions and --"

"I see your point," Harry cut him off with a grin. Snape's assessment of the situation was probably spot-on, but it amused Harry to hear Snape sounding so matter-of-fact about his role as Hogwarts' next teen heartthrob. "Well, publicly dating a boy might not be quite the deterrent you would expect it to be, but I suppose most of the girls will choose to admire you from afar rather than actively pursue you. No guarantees about Ginny, though. She's frightfully hard-headed about things like this ..."

Snape kept a firm grip on Harry's shirt. "Does this mean you'll be a good boy and play along?"

This is crazy, Harry thought, but he couldn't deny that the prospect appealed to him. He would have an excuse to spend time with Snape, and then there was the kissing ... but it was dangerous to leap blindly into a fake romance with Snape when Harry's feelings were all too real. Luckily for Snape, Harry had a history of ignoring all those pesky warnings in his brain when he was about to do something reckless. "I'll play along, but don't expect me to be good at this. I've been too busy foiling attempts on my life to actually date anyone."

"I'm not worried," Snape said. He relaxed his hold on Harry's shirt but didn't let him go. "You are a 'quick study,' after all."

Definitely nothing wrong with his memory, Harry grumbled to himself. To Snape, he said, "Are you sure want to take yourself off the market? You might decide that you like someone here at the school." In fact, that was one of Harry's biggest worries.

"Mulgrew from Hufflepuff is attractive, I suppose,” he gave Harry a shrewd glance, having named the very same Sixth Year who seemed to be stuck on Harry, “but he couldn't brew a potion to save his life and I require at least a modicum of intelligence when selecting a partner."

"This is dating we're talking about, not choosing who to sit by in Potions class."

"Anyway, these were my students, Potter," Snape said, ignoring the critique of his dating criteria. "The idea of dating any of them gives me hives."

"I hate to point out the obvious, but --"

"If you hate it so much, don't do it."

"I'm only saying, I was a student of yours too. And we didn't exactly get along ..."

"Irrelevant." Snape wasn't about to admit to a flaw in his logic.

"But if there's any chance you might have an allergic reaction to dating me --"

"I kissed you without going into anaphylactic shock. I think you pass the test. However ..." He suddenly slid his fingers underneath the hem of Harry's shirt, caressing the flat planes of his stomach. "... I could always audition you for the role, if you like."

A squeak of surprise prevented Harry from answering. He looked up to see Ron standing a few feet away, eyes wide in shock. Harry tried to back out of Snape's reach but Snape snaked his arm around Harry's waist, holding him in place.

"Did you want something?" Snape's voice was cold with contempt.

Ron flinched, something uncertain and childlike flaring into his eyes before he shook his head 'no' and walked away. Harry stared after him in confusion.

Snape, too, watched Ron as he left, but in a cold, calculated way. "Tell me, Potter, have you noticed anything different about Weasley? I'm not talking about recently, since anyone would be a little spooked after the attack on the castle, but has anything strange happened in the past few weeks?"

Harry frowned and tried to think if anything out of the ordinary had happened that might have affected Ron. "Not really. He got himself separated from our group in Hogsmeade during the last outing -- that was just a week ago. We found him wandering around out by the Shrieking Shack, a little disoriented, but Hermione blamed that on the Firewhiskey that Seamus had been passing around the common room right before we left the school. Ron even joked about it later, said he had kept wondering why Hermione hadn't nagged at him even once during the entire trip."

"Hmm." Snape stroked his hand up and down Harry's back, giving every indication of being lost in thought and unaware of the intimate gesture, but then he brought his hand around to the front of Harry's trousers and pulled, drawing Harry in between his legs. "Back to your audition ..."

"Not that again." Harry tried to sound irritated.

"Don't be coy, Potter. I know you've been wanting that again ever since I first kissed you in the hospital wing. It was written all over your face." He took hold of Harry's upper arms and brought him in closer. "Just consider this training for when we have to convince the school that we're serious."

He cupped the back of Harry's head to guide him down into another kiss, this time barely brushing their lips together, teasing Harry, drawing him in with gentle nibbles and the promise of something more. Harry steadied himself by placing his hands on the armrests of Snape's chair, taking the initiative when Snape persisted in his feather-light caresses by diving in for a solid kiss, pressing his mouth to Snape's with more passion than skill, but then Snape kissed him back, tilting Harry's head so that the angles of their mouths matched perfectly. He instructed Harry in the art of weaving back and forth between hot, hard kisses where it felt like he'd never want to breathe again, and the lingering, sensual kisses where their tongues entwined and Snape tasted his fill of Harry's mouth, wringing out a low, needy moan from deep in Harry's throat. Somehow, Snape manoeuvred Harry into his lap, one hand clasped on Harry's hip and the other fisted in his hair as he made Harry moan again and again with the intensity of his kisses. Harry's fantasy of being the boy in the photo had come true, and it was even better than he'd imagined it to be.

"Boys!"

Harry jerked back and would have fallen out of Snape's lap and onto the floor if Snape hadn't wrapped his arms around Harry's middle to catch him.

Madam Pince glared at them, her arms full of books to be put away. "I suggest you two go elsewhere if you are going to continue on like this. Be thankful that I'm not reporting you to the Headmaster for inappropriate behaviour."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said as he climbed out of Snape's lap.

Snape rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like goody-two-shoes. He waited until Madam Pince walked away before he stood up and used his wand to banish the stack of letters on the table.

"Time to eat, then?" he asked Harry, acting as if nothing had happened.

"I ... I suppose ..." Harry was starting to think that this entire 'boyfriend' business was actually part of Snape's evil plan to drive Harry insane. If so, it was working beautifully.

Snape held out his hand expectantly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to hold my hand?"

Harry burst out laughing. "What?"

Snape huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I may be a bit rusty at being a teenager, but I know I've seen all those lovesick brats that I used to teach holding hands in the hallway. Now, give me your hand."

Harry self-consciously rubbed his own clammy hand on his trousers, reluctant to comply. Kissing, holding hands ... if he wasn't careful, he'd start to take this relationship seriously. Could he afford to let himself get swept up in Snape's performance?

"Don't be such a baby, Potter," Snape said impatiently, and he reached for Harry's hand, grasping it firmly in his own before leading Harry out of the library and off to the Great Hall.

Their late arrival to the meal ensured that all eyes would be on them as they walked into the room hand in hand, a fact that was not lost on Harry. Snape garnered his fair share of stares, some wary, some admiring, as he made his first real public appearance since Voldemort's spell de-aged him, but the Gryffindor table seemed more interested in the puzzling sight of Snape holding Harry's hand. Even the teachers' table erupted into speculation over the twosome, but Dumbledore didn't look surprised in the least. He stood up and motioned with his hands for the room to quiet down.

"Students, faculty, may I have your attention for one moment, please?" The din of chattering students died to a low murmur as everyone waited for Dumbledore to continue. "I would like you to welcome a new student to the Seventh Year class. Severus, please come forward."

A dead silence filled the room as Snape left Harry's side and walked to the front of the room where Hagrid was placing a stool at the head of the tables, much as he did on the first night of each school year.

"Severus Snape is known to you all, of course, but circumstances have dictated that he return to Hogwarts as a student to ... ahem, complete his schooling. As such, we will be conducting one of our shortest Sorting ceremonies as the Sorting Hat determines which house Mr. Snape will grace with his considerable talents."

The Slytherin table let out a cheer, certain that they were about to welcome one of their own back into the fold, but otherwise the room remained silent. Harry found it all very surreal, and no doubt the other students felt the same way. Why were they bothering to sort Snape again? Where else would he go but into Slytherin?

Snape sat down on the stool and waited for Professor McGonagall to place the Sorting Hat on his head. Harry looked away, anticipating an instantaneous shout of "Slytherin!" -- but it never came. He looked back at Snape and saw that his hands were clenched tightly on the brim of the hat, keeping it firmly in place while the seconds turned to minutes. The two seemed to be having a very heated debate judging from what Harry could see of Snape's body language and the way the hat strained and stretched against Snape's grip. Whatever their argument concerned, it looked like Snape was winning.

"Yes, yes, do what you want then," the hat finally relented, concluding his surrender with a cry of, "Gryffindor!"

Harry's mouth dropped open.

"I don't believe it," he heard someone say. "Snape ... in Gryffindor?"

McGonagall snatched the Sorting Hat away from Snape and made a pointed gesture for him to join the Gryffindor table, looking none too pleased by this turn of events. Echoing her sentiments were the Gryffindor students who had suffered from Snape's blatant Slytherin favouritism.

"It's like You-Know-Who suddenly decided to become a Muggle," Dean said as Harry walked past him, his apt comparison sending the surrounding Gryffindors into a fit of nervous laughter.

He did it because of me. Harry knew without a doubt that Snape had badgered and bullied the Sorting Hat into placing him in Gryffindor so he could stay close to Harry, but why? So he could continue to torment him with soft kisses one minute and cold indifference the next? Was this part of Snape's revenge for the bond that Harry had forced on him? He'd saved the man's life, for Merlin's sake! Didn't that count for anything? Sure, he'd used the magical equivalent of rape to do it, but he hadn't known that at the time! And if it wasn't for revenge, what other reason could there possibly be? They didn't need to be in the same house to make everyone believe they were together, so why did Snape feel the need to make the switch?

Harry headed for an empty seat next to Ron so he could break the news of his relationship as gently as possible, but Snape caught up with him and grabbed his hand, dragging him down to the far end of the table instead. He sat down in an empty space and pulled Harry down along with him, giving him no choice but to comply if he didn't want to make a scene. Snape picked up the glass sitting in front of Harry, examined it, then tapped it with his wand, turning it a dark red colour.

"From now on, you only drink out of glasses that I've checked personally," Snape said, returning Harry's glass just as it filled to the brim with pumpkin juice. "The red colour means it's safe. If it turns blue or black, don't drink from it."

"How adorably paranoid of you," Harry cooed, determined to make Snape as uncomfortable with their fake relationship as he was, "and how sweet of you to try and protect me."

The look of distaste that crossed Snape's face assured Harry that he was doing a first-class job of turning Snape's stomach with his saccharine tone, but he regretted his brief taste of victory when Snape executed a sneak attack, pulling Harry in for a quick, aggressive kiss.

"Anything for my Harry," he murmured, stroking Harry's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before he turned and picked up his silverware, diving into his meal with a gusto that rivalled Ron at his hungriest.

Harry shivered, deeply affected by both the words and the kiss, but after the euphoria came the hollow reminder that it wasn't real. He looked down at his plate, absently moving his food around with his fork. When he says it like that, I almost believe him.

They ate without speaking for several minutes. Harry was the first to break the silence.

"The sorting, getting into Gryffindor ... that was all because of me, wasn't it?"

Snape scoffed and dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter. "Look, Potter, not everything is about you." He paused, frowned, then continued on, "Well, in this case, it is about you, but just don't get into the habit of expecting it to always be about you. No one likes an egomaniac."

"No one likes a sadistic bastard, either, but you're starting to grow on me," Harry said, stabbing his food with his fork.

Snape snorted. "Grow on you? I think we're beyond that point, don't you? After all, I'm not the one who got us thrown out of the library for moaning too loudly."

"Hey!" Harry clapped his hand over Snape's mouth, mindful of the wide-eyed stares of the First Years that sat across from them. He leaned in close, hissing in Snape's ear, "Could you please stop saying things like that? I've agreed to do what you want, but can't you be a little more discreet?"

Snape waited until Harry took his hand away before flashing him a wicked smile. Only Snape could turn a friendly expression into a threat. He slid his hand around Harry's waist and leaned in the rest of the way, his lips practically touching Harry's ear. "Only good boys get rewarded. I'll behave in public, as long as you behave ... well, everywhere else."

"Pervert," Harry said, pushing him away, though it was the last thing he really wanted to do.

"Why do you insist on ruining my fun? I'm just a perfectly normal teenage boy with perfectly normal teenage hormones," Snape said with a smirk, but he didn't touch Harry again for the rest of the meal.
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