InsaneJournal

Harry could tell from the tone of voice even before he could make the words out that Snape was mocking him. Again.

"...pure luck that the entire room of third-years wasn't killed," the voice was saying. "I warned the Headmistress that allowing someone so inexperienced to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts was a mistake. I thought, at least Potter can't possibly bungle it as much as that arrogant idiot Lockhart or that foul toady Umbridge, but apparently I have underestimated..."

Harry didn't bother to clear his throat before coming around the corner, startling Madam Pomfrey, who gave him an apologetic smile. Though Harry was still in the habit of thinking of all the adults who'd been at Hogwarts while he'd been a student as Professor or some other title, he forced a smile in return and deliberately said, "Good afternoon, Severus." He waited for Snape inevitably to wrinkle his nose before continuing, "At least I don't use Unforgivable Curses in the classroom." It did not seem fair to him that Snape spent so much time criticizing him when Snape had put up with Amycus Carrow torturing students.

"You know perfectly well that I had no choice but to go along with them or risk being found out," retorted Snape, sounding less contrite than Harry could have hoped, considering that Harry himself had gone to the Ministry to petition for Snape's pardon and to ask that he be reinstated at Hogwarts.

"Well, if you're still envious that I got the DADA position instead of you, maybe we could switch."

"Have you gone insane?" Snape let a dramatic expression of horror cross his face. "Your students would have cauldrons exploding and potions seeping through the castle walls!"

"Seamus Finnigan isn't a student any more," Harry pointed out. Snape hadn't been able to prevent a number of disasters by Seamus or Neville -- or, for that matter, some non-potion disasters by Harry, Ron, and even Hermione -- so it didn't seem fair to Harry that he should be judged for his novice teaching mistakes. He might have argued the point further, but he decided not to bother, especially since he was pretty sure Snape was right. "Listen, Severus, you don't have to like me, but if you don't show me a little respect, the students won't, either."

That last probably wasn't true, since Harry was the most famous wizard in the world and Snape was still regarded with suspicion, though that also made him secretly admired among the Slytherins. But Harry was still frustrated...mostly because, deep down, he really did want Snape to like him.

There was a long moment when Harry knew Snape was looking at him, probably sifting through innumerable assaults on Harry's character, teaching abilities or proclivities. Harry braced himself.

"You have a point, Potter," Snape said, making a face that Harry had seen him make before when a really terrible student had managed somehow to actually brew a potion correctly. Before Harry could process this statement Snape continued, "Of course, most teachers here have earned their positions through study and hard work and not had them simply handed to them because they managed to survive under trying conditions."

"Trying conditions?" Harry sputtered. "You call almost being killed --" He pressed his lips together abruptly, knowing that making him lose his temper was probably exactly what Snape wanted, especially in front of Madam Pomfrey, who could usually be counted on to be impartial. "I don't know why I bother," he said, starting to turn away. If he didn't hurry he knew he'd be late for his next class.

"Very well," Snape said, almost too quietly for Harry to hear. "I can't promise miracles, but you do actually have a point." Pomfrey was looking on approvingly. For a moment Harry's heart fluttered in his chest. "If you ever master the fundamentals of the subject you are supposed to be pounding into the brains of your students, I will indeed accord you the measure of respect you deserve." His tone gave no doubt that measure would be very small indeed.

Madame Pomfrey blinked in confusion, looking as though she was trying to work out whether Snape had been conciliatory or not, but Harry knew. He whirled and stormed off, wishing for once to have long black robes to trail dramatically in his wake. "Git!" he muttered, taking the turn for the Defense classroom on a pivot. "Ungrateful -- I should give him detention, see how much respect I get then." He tried to put Snape's comments out of his mind in front of his class.

There wasn't any use applying to the headmistress for help. His years as a student had taught him that the staff at Hogwarts, and McGonagall in particular, were fully in favor of working out problems without mediation or intervention, whether it was rivalries between houses or between teachers. He could see McGonagall's mouth twitching in disapproval and, worse, disappointment. He would just have to find some way to get Snape to lay off him or learn to ignore the jibes.

After class, which thankfully all survived without incident, Harry indulged in a pleasant fantasy of actually giving the hateful git detention, making him write out lines. Lines such as "Harry Potter is an asset to Hogwarts" a hundred times in Snape's spidery scrawl floated into Harry's vision. It was such a delicious thought that he took it even further, making Snape sulky and having to win him over, method yet to be determined, to give Harry the respect he deserved.

Harry slowed his steps back to his office, the fantasy bursting like a soap bubble when realized with a start that it had transmuted somehow into another sort of fantasy. Surely he wasn't thinking of Snape -- He made such a face that a group of professors in old fashioned ruff collars in a painting tried to study him with their magnifying glasses.

Determined, at least, to demonstrate to Snape that he had very good relationships with the rest of the professors at Hogwarts, Harry made a point of sitting and having a serious conversation with Sybill Trelawney at breakfast the next day, and later inviting Aurora Sinistra to have tea with him. Unfortunately, neither went as well as he had hoped, for when Harry suggested he wouldn't mind a little insight into his own romantic future, Trelawney took one look into his teacup and predicted his imminent death.

Sinistra didn't have anything nearly so gloomy to tell him, but she arched an eyebrow when Harry tried, casually, to ask how well she'd got to know Snape over the years when they had both taught at Hogwarts. She asked whether Harry was interested in Snape, which Harry denied so fervently that even the typically serious astronomy professor looked as though she might smirk.

At least there were no disasters in his classroom...not until the end of the day, when a pair of fifth-year Slytherins, apparently trying to impress a tall, pretty, uninterested female classmate, shot a Bat-Bogey Hex at the sullen new Slytherin Beater. Even though the fifth-years were barely competent with hexes and only a few very small bats flew out of the Beater's nose, the latter had grabbed the nearest chair and smacked his classmates over the head with it before Harry had even realized what was going on. All three Slytherins ended up in the infirmary, where Harry was accosted by a scowling Snape.

"If you can't control the students in your own classroom, Potter..."

"I can control the students fine, thank you. Except the Slytherins, who seem incapable of following the school rules. Why do you suppose that is, Professor?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." Snape looked smug. "Perhaps discipline became somewhat lax under Horace Slughorn, but since I resumed my position as Head of House, we have had no incidents like students flying Muggle vehicles into trees or sneaking into the Forbidden Forest after hours."

"Well, this lot should all be given detention," announced Madam Pomfrey, who had finished bandaging heads and was encouraging the Beater to keep blowing his nose. "And this one's not fit to play Quidditch this weekend."

"I'm fine!" rebutted the Beater, though it sounded more like I'b fibe! A tiny bat flew out of his left nostril.

"I'm sure that the team can defeat Gryffindor without you," Snape replied in a similarly smug tone, turning to follow Harry out of the infirmary. "If you are allowing your House's Quidditch players the same lax regulation that seems the norm in your classroom..."

It was bad enough for Snape to insult him to other teachers. Insulting him within earshot of a student was completely unacceptable. "May I see you in private for a moment?" Harry demanded, gesturing in the general direction of his office.

Snape paused what seemed to Harry to be an infuriatingly long time before replying. "No, I don't think so."

"You don't --" Harry sputtered, forcing his fists to relax and stay away from his wand. "Professor, I believe this might best be discussed somewhere other than in front of the students," he said as reasonably as he could.

Snape, however, ignored him, turning toward Pomfrey with a concerned look on his face that Harry assumed was wholly insincere.

"Snape," he breathed out in an undertone of frustration. Snape, typically, heard him with that preternatural way of teachers everywhere. He whirled, eyes narrowing.

"That's Professor Snape to you, Potter," he spat, all pretense of concern vaporized by fury.

But Harry had had enough. Vibrating with anger he leaned in closer, nearly nose to nose with Snape. "That's Professor Potter to you," he hissed, and somehow his wand was in his hand, aimed at Snape.

"Now, Harry," Madam Pomfrey said, frowning in disapproval.

Snape looked down his long nose at Harry's wand, which had closed the gap between them.

"You wanted a word, Professor," he said, though somehow he made the last word drip with sarcasm. He looked pointedly at Harry's wand. "Or would you rather hex me?"

Harry managed to hold his temper by picturing himself dragging Snape down to the dungeon, as Snape had once done to Harry for Occlumency lessons, except Harry didn't want to grab Snape by the wrist, march him down the stairs, and penetrate his mind, he wanted to grab Snape by the wrist, march him down the stairs, and -- oh fuck!

Really, really hoping that Snape hadn't seen that last thought, since Harry was still crap at Occlumency, he made a little gesture with his wand to keep Snape's eyes there instead of on his own. "I wanted a word in private," he managed to grate out.

Once again Snape looked smug rather than angry. "Since you insist," he replied, shooting another look of false concern in Madam Pomfrey's direction. "I trust that you can manage this lot?"

"I'll have them fixed up and ready for detention in no time," she announced cheerfully.

"Thank you." Whirling, Harry started down the hall and turned up the staircase, assuming that Snape would follow him.

What he could not have assume as he strode past the statue of Boris the Bewildered was that he would overhear Snape muttering, "Potter is the one who should have detention."

Harry had had enough. Pointing his wand, he performed an unlocking spell on the door of the nearest room...which turned out to be the Prefects' bathroom, since they were one floor up from the infirmary and just passing the fifth door. Fortunately, it was empty. "In here," he barked at Snape.

"Honestly, Potter, if you need a bath, surely your living quarters has a --"

"Shut up!" Harry was surprised that he was shaking. Sure, he was angry, but his agitation seemed out of proportion with his irritation. "And get out of the hallway before I do hex you in front of a student."

Cocking an eyebrow, Snape followed him in. The mermaid on the wall took one look at Snape and dove behind a stone. "You do realize that doing so would likely cost you your position here, which after today may be precarious enough already."

"My position here is perfectly safe," Harry spat. "I'm the Boy Who Lived, not an ex-Death Eater, remember? I'm the reason you get to teach here instead of sitting at an endless Ministry hearing where they decide what to do with you. Like I said, you don't have to like me but you need to respect..."

"Your students are the ones who need to respect you," interrupted Snape. "It isn't your job to be popular, it's your job to control your classroom. Do you remember what classes were like when teachers let things get out of control?" Harry dismissed a memory of Lockhart's classroom full of Cornish pixies, and another of Quirrell trying to lecture while a group of students made fun of his stammer. "Did you ever consider that perhaps it might be because I like you that I would prefer not to see you fail miserably?"

Though Harry should have pointed out that he wasn't failing miserably nor anything like, he was too distracted by the first part of that last sentence to manage it. "If you like me, you have a pretty ridiculous way of showing it!" he practically shouted.

"All right, say I don't like you, say I loathe you as much as you loathe --"

"I don't," Harry rebutted, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair, since he wanted to look like he was in control of this odd meeting, even though he knew he had lost control sometime around the point he'd pulled out his wand. "I don't loathe you."

They started at each other, openly skeptical on both sides. It was Snape who broke the frustrating silence. "Say what you will about my teaching methods, I have pounded Potions into tender skulls for as long as you've been alive."

Needing to vent some of his energy, Harry paced several steps up and back. "But you scare your students. You insult them, Neville probably still can't brew anything more complicated than tea."

It was probably Harry's imagination, but it looked as if a shudder went through Snape at the mention of Neville's name. "Longbottom does perfectly well at brewing the sorts of potions he needs for Herbology," he retorted, not bothering to sound patient. "What you haven't figured out yet is that, although we teach all the students all the subjects, not everyone is good at every sort of magic. Nor do they need to be. The headmistress is rubbish at Potions herself, but you don't see her conjuring up people in her grandmother's clothes, do you?"

Reluctantly Harry's mouth twitched. But he had to get the conversation back onto the topic that troubled him the most. "All I'm asking is that you don't insult me in front of the students -- or the other teachers. If you want to do it in private, you can do it all you like."

Oddly enough, Snape's mouth looked as if it was avoiding the urge to twitch as well. "That would earn me detention, I'm sure."

It took Harry a moment to work out what Snape presumed he meant. "I didn't mean," Harry sputtered, "I mean, not in private with me. I meant --"

"Pity," Snape said. "You're so easy to wind up. You strut around the castle --"

"I do not strut!"

" -- alternating between extreme arrogance and utter bafflement --"

"I'm not baffled! I'm trying to reach some balance between being treated like The Chosen One and ignored for being so young!"

" -- and when anyone offers you suggestions -- "

"Insults are not suggestions! They're just rude!" Snape was so infuriating, and confusing, and hard to read, that Harry couldn't hear himself think. "Honestly, you should have detention. You should have to clean the toilets without magic. You should have to put all the sex magic books from the Restricted Section back on their proper shelves." Snape's eyebrows shot up. Harry hadn't meant to say that, but he really couldn't think with the faces Snape was making, a cross between disdainful and smug. "You should...you should get a spanking!"

Snape's mouth dropped open. Harry didn't know how to describe the expression on his face, but he'd seen Snape angry and this wasn't anger. "As you should know, teachers are not allowed to spank students," Snape growled.

"You aren't a student."

"Nor are students allowed to..."

"And neither am I."

That got Snape to close his mouth. Harry could see his throat working as he swallowed. This definitely wasn't enraged Snape, though his face was flushed and he looked...heated? Passionate? Aroused? "If teachers had been allowed to spank students, Potter, you may be assured that you would have been over my knee regularly."

Definitely aroused. Harry didn't even try not to smirk. "You'd have loved that, wouldn't you? Me squirming in your lap while you brought your hand down on my bare pink bum..." Harry was pretty sure he'd never heard Snape moan before like Snape did then, but he was also pretty sure that he'd imagined it. Repeatedly. "You should be given detention just for how much you like that idea!"

"It was your idea," Snape shot back at him, though his voice was breathless and he shifted, if Harry wasn't mistaken, to make sure his robes covered his crotch as completely as possible.

"It was, wasn't it?" Harry mused, tapping his wand pocket with two fingers. "So I should be the one to assign you --"

Snape gasped, "You wouldn't dare!"

"-- detention!"

Both their proclamations hung in the air as if the old stones of the castle were absorbing them. Magic, Harry knew, was tricky stuff but it surprised him to see Snape looking almost nervous, as if he expected long clanking chains to materialize out of the walls and capture him.

"I won't submit," Snape began, clutching the fronts of his robe tightly like an outraged maiden.

"You will," countered Harry. "You deserve a spanking for all the horrible things you've said about me, just today, never mind every day since I started teaching."

Snape's eyes had practically glazed over when Harry mentioned spanking again. His mouth opened, but he shut it quickly, whatever insult he'd been formulating drying up. Harry's wand hand itched to perform a spell to make Snape comply, but now that he had seen the effect his proclamation had on Snape, he was glimpsing a broader world. Instead he transformed one of the utilitarian chairs into a squashy armchair and let himself fall into it. Stretching out his legs, he patted his lap invitingly.

"You can't honestly expect me to --"

"Oh, I do." Harry replied, patting one thigh again. Snape's gaze on his fingers was like a caress and Harry was instantly aroused. The front of Snape's robes billowed as though his feet were deciding whether to step forward or Snape was trying to hide something else. "Do you know why? It's because you want to."

"It was your idea!" accused Snape again, though the moan in his voice made it sound more like a confession of his own inclinations than a taunt. "I can see how the thought of it is tenting your trousers."

"And I can see how you're trying to hide your stiffy with your robes." The confrontation made Snape moan again. "So since we both know we want it, and you absolutely deserve it, and I think I deserve to give it to you..."

Harry hadn't known that he could make a pair of trousers and underwear fall down in such a way as to confine someone's legs with them. He had certainly never practiced such a spell. Nor had he known that he could make people's robes fly up and constrain their hands.

One minute he was imagining it, and the next Snape was falling in his lap, really diving unceremoniously across his lap, with his pale naked bum exposed between layers of black cape and shirt and trousers and long dark hair.

"I think you deserve to acknowledge just what sort of a pervert you are," groaned Snape, who then gave what could only be described as an extremely erotic, apparently enthusiastic wiggle.

Harry had, of course, never spanked anyone before -- had never even imagined it in any sort of realistic sense, since he wouldn't have guessed that he'd meet someone he wanted to spank who would find the idea as exciting as Snape obviously found it -- but that wasn't about to stop him from trying. He gave the enticing naked skin a swat, feeling his cock throb with the gesture.

Snape moaned, then growled, "Is that the best you can do?"

"I'll try not to hurt you," Harry shot back, and did it again. And again. And harder, one arse cheek and then the other, as Snape moaned and writhed and ground himself against Harry's thigh with what felt like a very large, very hard erection.

Whatever concerns Harry had had that he might hurt Snape evaporated. He smacked Snape again and again, rocking up against him to give his own cock some relief because he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so excited.

"Enough?" he demanded.

"Pervert," grated Snape, giving a token struggle against the robes that bound his hands. Harry was about to retort that it obviously took one to know one when Snape went still in his lap, tensing all over. Was Snape going to push himself away? To attack Harry?

Then Snape bucked and shouted, or screamed really, convulsing against Harry, and even though Harry could only see the side of Snape's face, he knew exactly what had happened.

Oh fuck -- he'd made Snape come!

"Did you --" Harry wiggled, the words pouring out despite the evidence spreading over his thighs.

In response Snape just groaned and sagged over his lap like a sack of wet pixies. Some reply got muffled into the leg of Harry's trousers. Absently Harry's hand cupped a bit of nearly flat Snape-arse, still pink from the swatting he'd given it.

"What was that?" Harry asked, "I couldn't make that out." His fingers flexed around the warm skin under his fingers.

Levering up just enough to be heard, Snape said, "You know I did, I've just got you all sticky." Harry suspected Snape was trying to sound regretful about that, but he wasn't managing it.

"You liked that," Harry said, finally releasing the bit of arse he still had in hand. "You liked that a lot."

"Clearly." Snape sagged again over Harry's legs. Then he tensed slightly and lifted his head again. "And clearly I'm not the only one." Before Harry could refute any sort of claim Snape was about to make, Snape moved his hips, and Harry groaned at the contact.

"I --" Harry began, though he had no idea what defense he was about to mount, not in the face, or rather lap, of evidence confronting them both. Snape wiggled again.

"You what?" he said, satisfaction at Harry's predicament dripping from his voice. "Go ahead, deny it." He made another grinding motion and Harry groaned. "You like having me like this."

Somehow Harry's hand found its way back to Snape's arse, the curve of one cheek filling his fingers. "Stop that," Harry demanded, but Snape didn't. Snape didn't stop even when Harry uttered, "Finite Incantatem!" to allow Snape's robes and trousers to free him.

"You are the one that wanted me here. You demanded it, in fact." To emphasize the point, Snape thrust against a particularly sensitive spot, and Harry's fingers tightened on Snape's arse.

"You deserved it," Harry said breathlessly before it occurred to him that Snape might assume Harry meant he deserved the orgasm, not the spanking. Although Harry doubted very much that he would have gone through with the spanking had Snape not been so eager for it...Snape was continuing to grind himself against Harry, finding a steady rhythm, which made it very hard to think. "You're still taunting me!"

"Is this taunting?" Snape lifted up for a moment and a whimper of protest escaped Harry's nose before he could stop it. Then Snape did something with his hand, maybe involving his wand in his pocket, Harry couldn't tell, but it made Harry's trousers pop right open. "I'll stop teasing and do something about that hard prick of yours, but only if you stop pretending you don't like it."

Was Snape offering to -- yes, Snape was definitely offering to touch him, to rub against him until he came or maybe even to wank him. And although Harry thought that, to maintain whatever impression he had made upon Snape about not mocking him in front of students, he should refasten his trousers, do a spell to clean them, and walk away with some shreds of his dignity intact, his cock's demands were a lot more persistent than those of his dignity. "I never said I didn't like having my prick rubbed," he sputtered. "I don't like when you treat me like I -- fuck!"

Snape had shifted between his legs, tugged his trousers out of the way, and put his lips on Harry's cock. "Do you fuck, Potter? Apparently not often enough." The lips parted, sliding down around the swollen head, and Snape's tongue licked up and down in an exquisite way that made Harry cry out, clutching Snape's hair in his hand. He thought he was pulling too hard but Snape let out a growl that didn't sound like a protest, moving his mouth up and down on Harry's cock.

If there was one thing Harry would never have guessed Snape would be so good at, it was sucking someone off. Admittedly Harry only had clumsy experimentation and anonymous encounters to compare, since he hadn't wanted The Daily Prophet to write an article on his sex life and hadn't met anyone who excited him the way Snape looking like he wanted a spanking excited him, but he still thought Snape was probably good at this even if he could be evaluated objectively. Harry's hips bucked up helplessly and his fingers clenched in the hair again. "Fuck! Don't stop!"

The harrumph Snape made around his cock sounded smug, but Harry couldn't be bothered to do anything about it, if indeed he could have done anything to contradict the way his cock was throbbing in Snape's mouth. Even though Harry's balls were still mostly in his trousers, Snape was rubbing a thumb around down there and his tongue was doing things on the underside of Harry's cock that no one else had ever tried.

"I'm -- soon," Harry managed to say, but those were the last coherent syllables he could force from his lips as Snape took him in deep, swallowing around his cock. Harry let out a long, loud shout and bucked his hips up, coming harder than he ever had.

Once he could think clearly again Harry looked down, expecting Snape to make some sort of disgusted noise and follow it up with a pointed comment about Harry's lack of control. Instead Snape...lingered. Unspeaking, practically unmoving except for the steady sounds of breathing and robes rustling slightly with each breath. His mouth stayed in place around Harry's cock until it had begun to soften. Only then did he release it, mouth popping slightly. They stared at each other.

Finally Snape said, "That was unexpected."

When there was no poisonous follow-up, Harry said, "That you liked it, or that I did? I'm not straight, you know -- that's been settled a lot time ago."

Giving a final glance at Harry's cock, Snape set to tugging up Harry's trousers and doing something with his wand that cleaned them both up. "Perhaps there's hope for you," he said, getting to his feet with every appearance of getting ready to walk away.

"Wait -- hope for what? You aren't leaving, are you?" Harry asked, not having been filled in on the wizard etiquette of one-offs or whatever this had started out as.

"Of course I am, and so are you." Snape looked around the bathroom as if couldn't believe where they had ended up.

"That's not what I meant," Harry said, jumping to his feet, grateful that Snape had tucked him back in so he didn't completely lose his dignity when he stood up. "Aren't we going to --" He gestured hopelessly, "Talk about it?"

"I was under the impression you didn't appreciate my comments or constructive criticisms," Snape replied.

"Constructive?" Harry burst out. "You're no more constructive than an escaped pixie and your comments always address my lack of skills."

Snape's gaze darted to the front of Harry's trousers, then back up. It broke Harry's burst of anger and he was back to exasperation. "Look," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Whatever that was, we both liked it." He dared a glance, similar to Snape's, at the front of his robes.

A moment's hesitation and Snape finally said, "Agreed."

There was something about the way he said it that emboldened Harry. He took a step closer. "You want to do it again," Harry said, trying to sound confident.

"I never said --"

Harry glared at him. "Don't make me spank you again."

He was sure Snape didn't mean to moan, but the sound that burst from Snape's mouth could hardly be described as anything else. "Potter..." he began, then had to stop to swallow.

"Harry. The least you could do is call me by my given name." Harry noted that Snape looked disconcerted by this, and quickly guessed the reason. "Honestly, it's not like that means we're dating. Minerva told me to call her by her name and I've never even fantasized about giving her detention."

Snape's eyebrows shot straight up. "Are you telling me you fantasized about giving me detention?"

Harry saw no reason to lie. Either Snape would like the idea, in which case he might agree to act out the one where Harry marched Snape down to the dungeons and penetrated something other than his mind, or he wouldn't like the idea, in which case he might decide that Harry was the one due for a spanking, which was also pretty all right with Harry's prick. "I fantasized about a bunch of things," he admitted.

Crossing his arms, Snape studied him as though he thought Harry might have some ulterior motive. "You don't even like me," he announced.

"Did you ever consider that perhaps it might be because I like you that I want to give you detention?" retorted Harry. Snape's mouth opened and closed again. "And I might want to learn what you have to say about teaching if you'd teach it like you had the slightest bit of respect for me? Honestly, things would have gone so much more easily if you'd been even the slightest bit nicer to me. You might not have those fang scars on your neck."

Clutching at his throat as though he expected the wounds to open again, Snape said defensively, "You know I had no choice. I had to persuade the Dark Lord of my loyalties."

"Yes, but now Voldemort is dead." Harry heard a shriek and a splash as he said the name and knew that the mermaid in the portrait on the wall had been listening all along. "You don't have to convince anyone you don't like me. I think everyone assumes it, anyway."

"I don't not like you," Snape said grudgingly. "But if you expect me to go around the castle proclaiming that..."

"You could at least have proclaimed it to me," interrupted Harry.

"I just did!"

"'I don't not like you' isn't exactly a declaration of --" Harry paused. "Actually, that's not bad, coming from a disagreeable sod like you."

"I beg your pardon," Snape said, folding robed sleeves across his chest and frowning.

"Which part do you find objectionable, the disagreeable part or the sod part?" Harry considered and shrugged. "Actually, you can beg my pardon. I wouldn't mind having you beg." Snape's mouth opened. "Sometimes," Harry added hastily. "And I'll beg sometimes, too."

There was another pause. Harry started to fear he'd read the entire situation wrong, and that he was about to be hexed into next week.

He looked at Snape again and amended that to next year.

Something worked in Snape's face. "Agreed," he said.

Harry nearly sagged in relief, even though he hadn't been aware of tensing up. "You don't even have to be nice," he told Snape, feeling more magnanimous now that it was looking like this wasn't a one-off. "Just decent to me. Or at least not awful in front of the students." Before Snape could rebut that, Harry added, "Or the teachers."

"I presume I may criticize you in front of the ghosts?" Snape asked archly. "Or the mermaids?"

"Or as much as you like in private. I expect I have techniques you'd like to critique." Harry could tell Snape liked that idea -- a lot. "You might even start to like me."

Behind them, somewhere, a mermaid snorted.

"This is not an ideal spot for assignations," declared Snape. "Even though that mermaid, like the one that got legs in the Muggle children's story, has been hexed into silence."

The words sounded like a warning, and indeed Harry heard a small shriek, then a splash. He wasn't worried, since he figured that if the mermaid had been prone to gossip, everyone at Hogwarts would have heard about the things Prefects did when they thought they were alone in the bathtub. "Where would you prefer, then?" he asked. "The Gryffindor and Slytherin dormitories don't seem like ideal spots, either."

"If you and your friends hadn't managed to destroy the Room of Requirement, that would have been an ideal..."

"It was the Slytherins who used Fiendfyre," Harry interrupted, though he knew at once that Snape's idea was a good one. "You must know the room is being fixed. The Headmistress told me. Maybe we should drop in tomorrow to see how things are going."

A pause, then Snape smirked at him. "Two gifted wizards such as ourselves can likely make short work of the repairs."

"Was that a compliment?" Harry grinned. "I think it was. All right, tomorrow, five o'clock at the Room of Requirement. It's a date."

Snape's eyebrows shot up at Harry's use of that last word. "I believe I have detentions to supervise tomorrow afternoon."

"Then don't keep the students too long." Turning, Harry winked over his shoulder. "Otherwise, you'll be late, and then you'll get detention again yourself."