SNARRY-A-THON12: FIC: The Frog: Prince Title: The Frog: Prince Author:accioslash Rating: PG Word count: 1,670 words Warning(s): (highlight for spoilers) *Humor, fluff, fairy-tale fic* Prompt: The idea started with prompt 137, but veered into wild card territory. Summary:It's not easy being green. ~Kermit the Frog A/N: Much love to my betas, especially bk7brokemybrain, for all the correction, hand-holding and encouragement.
The Frog: Prince
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a prince and a man named Harry, who is the hero of our story. Well, all right, depending on where you live, Hogwarts castle in Scotland may not be all that far away, and the prince was really just a Prince in name only (from his mother's side of the family). And the time was actually not so long ago. But the story begins with Harry Potter, who really is the hero of our story. Now, even for Harry Potter the day had been an unusual one. And for those who are familiar with a typical day for Harry they know that this is indeed saying something. As for Headmaster Snape, well, not to put too fine a point on it, when his day involved Harry Potter, he'd given up all expectations of normalcy years ago.
Our hero had been supposed to meet the headmaster in the Forbidden Forest to gather some ingredients Harry was to use in a demonstration for his next DADA class. He was running behind thanks to a combination of Peeves, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and a house elf with a rather peculiar idea of personal space (which is another story altogether). And when he finally arrived expecting to see a fuming Snape he was instead greeted by the remains of what felt like a burst of powerful magic and an untidy pile of Snape's very distinctive robes on the forest floor. In the middle of which sat a frog.
Now, having been in the wizarding world for a fair number of years, Harry wouldn't normally jump to the conclusion the frog was Snape. Oh, all right, he might, but for the sake of argument let's assume he wouldn't. And while we're already making assumptions (and let's also not go into the whole "you know what assuming does" thing, okay?) But Harry may have happened to have been reading a copy of "The Frog Prince", and he just may have stumbled right before turning into the clearing where he was supposed to meet Snape, and he just might possibly have been thinking of Snape as his personal Frog Prince right before he stumbled and fell with his wand in-hand and a spell someone had scribbled in the margins of the book on his lips, and.... He felt pretty comfortable assuming this frog was, in fact, his current employer.
Now, this frog had no special markings, as Professor McGonagall did in her Animagus form. He was just plain (Slytherin) green and a bit spotty, but even Harry could tell from its expression it thought he was an idiot. Definitely Snape-like.
And could frogs glare?
He was fairly certain Snape was not an Animagus but that this was simply a spell gone wrong. And not just any spell, but apparently one of his own making. Figures.
"I'll fix this," he vowed, trying to sound confident and reassuring. "I mean it, Headmaster. I'll change you back."
Frog-Snape appeared singularly unimpressed.
The first spell Harry tried, just to cover all the bases, was the Animagus reversal spell. Not that he expected it to work, but it seemed like a logical place to start. And, please, Harry is having enough trouble without any of you pointing out his apparent shortcomings when it comes to using logic. And anyway, he'd like you to know he's not nearly as dumb as some of you lot seem to think. Next was "Finite," but still nothing. Harry spent the next several hours trying all manner of spells that he thought might work.
Frog-Snape, who had already spent a considerable amount of time gobbling unsuspecting insects while Harry tried one unsuccessful spell after another, seemed every bit as impatient as his human counterpart and appeared unwilling to allow Harry any further chances to waste his time. Peevishly shuffling his webbed feet, he sent a renewed glare that seemed to Harry to be warning him that he had one final shot before Frog-Snape took matters into his own, um, feet. It was at that point that a solution finally presented itself.
Wish magic.
There was no doubt about it. Harry had been harboring a not-so-secret interest in Snape ever since his previously secret interest in the Half-Blood Prince became known to, well, apparently everyone except Snape. It was the reason he'd accepted a position at Hogwarts in the first place. He had been attempting to get to know Snape better, but it was slow going and as he was rushing to meet up with the headmaster, Harry (whose magical talents were quite formidable) wished he could throw caution to the wind and just kiss the man already and see where things went from there. And that had been when he tripped. And now Snape was a frog.
Although there were any number of versions of "The Frog Prince," the one thing all the legends had in common was that something magical happened when you kissed a frog. And while Harry wasn't a princess, he knew Snape was a Prince and, just as in the book Harry had been reading, that meant that the magic necessary to turn him back required a kiss. No wonder Frog-Snape (and likely Snape-Snape) thought he was an idiot. He really should have figured it out much sooner.
These weren't quite the circumstances Harry'd envisioned for their first kiss. Resolutely, he brought Frog-Snape closer, his eyes closing in anticipation as their lips touched.
It actually wasn't bad, really. Nothing like kissing another person, of course, but there was less slime involved than he would have thought considering it was Sn—a frog. And much less wet than the kiss he had shared with Cho Chang. Sort of dry, really. And it was kind of, all right, not nice and certainly not what he thought kissing Snape would be like. At least he hoped not. But he supposed he'd had worse kisses. He really needed to get out more often.
At the sound of a throat being cleared behind him, Harry froze.
"By all means, don't let me interrupt."
Startled from his thoughts, Harry whirled around, gaping at Snape, who was standing with his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised, staring at him as though Harry'd lost his mind. Harry was well acquainted with that look from Snape.
"Snape," he cried, eyes wide as he looked between the frog and the headmaster. "Wait! Wha—"
"Wouldn't the Astronomy Tower be a more suitable location for this tryst, Mr. Potter?" Snape queried, feigning solicitude and gesturing between the clearly NOT Frog-Snape and Harry. "A rather common complaint among the new staff is a lack of suitable companions. I understand it must be difficult finding someone willing to kiss you, but I had no idea the situation had grown quite so dire."
Realizing that he was still holding what was apparently an actual frog, Harry scowled and quickly placed it on the ground.
"Unlike some others," Snape sent a significant look in his direction, "some of us do not have unlimited amounts of free time to squander waiting on errant staff, and I decided to gather the ingredients myself. Imagine my surprise when upon my return I find my new DADA instructor snogging a frog." Snape paused and looked calculating. "This isn't some Gryffindor custom, is it? It would explain a good many things about Dumbledore. Both Dumbledores, actually," he mused.
"That's not— I wasn't—" Harry sputtered indignantly. "I thought I had accidentally turned you into a frog when I fell, and I was trying to break the spell, you bastard."
"Tell me, Potter, in which of your classes at Hogwarts did they suggest that a spell could be broken by the application of your saliva? Wait—," Snape paused dramatically clearly enjoying himself far too much, "actually, the less I know about that, the better."
Blushing red all the way to his hairline, Harry said, "Well, since you have everything you need, I guess we should head back to the castle."
"Indeed," Snape agreed, turning briefly away from Harry to pick up the outer robe he'd obviously discarded to gather ingredients before turning back, the hint of a smile quirking his lips. "Unless, of course, there are some other unwary animals you wish to molest while we're here?"
"Ha bloody ha."
They'd started walking when Snape suddenly bent his face towards Harry, and before Harry could react or turn away, he kissed him. Snape's lips were soft and surprisingly warm. He kissed Harry gently, just pressing their mouths together, waiting for Harry to respond. Startled at first, Harry took a few seconds to catch up—typical, Snape thought—but his mouth opened up to Snape's soon enough, soft and yielding and infinitely sweet.
Harry pulled away slowly, his face flushed. "What was that for?" he asked quietly, hardly daring to trust his own voice. Had the magic actually granted his wish?
Snape smirked. "You were starting to look a bit green and I wanted to avoid another transformation."
Harry visibly deflated. "You must think I'm an idiot. I can't believe I thought I'd turned you into a frog and that kissing you would turn you into a prince."
"It does seem unlikely," Snape said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "Though it is an example of wish magic, which is not only very real, but a very ancient and powerful type of magic even Muggles can work. Kissing a frog is said to have magical properties. However, it is my understanding that sometimes it takes several attempts to capture that magic."
More confident, Harry replied, "Well, perhaps I should go back and see if I can locate that frog."
Gathering Harry in his arms Snape said, "Hm. Somehow I suspect you've already captured more than enough magic for your purposes."
And Harry had. As for what happened next, well, it appears that Harry did NOT have to kiss a lot of frogs to find both his handsome Half-Blood Prince or his happily ever after. And the frog who was definitely not Snape is still making magic for those idiotic enough to believe.