InsaneJournal

"No, don't give it milk, Harry," Hermione said into the telephone. "They're lactose-intolerant, I do know that much. Just give it water for now, I'll do some research and get back to you, okay?"

She put the phone down, looking slightly bemused. Ron raised his eyebrows. "What was that all about?"

"It was Harry. He's just found an injured hedgehog."

* * *
"Well, I've found out quite a lot about hedgehogs," Hermione said brightly. "It's amazing what you can find online - there's even a Facebook group for hedgehog lovers."

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Hermione, I knew I could rely on you."

Hermione tutted. "You could have looked all this up for yourself, Harry. How come you always get me to do computer stuff for you? Ron, I can understand, but you were brought up by Muggles the same as me."

"Not quite the same as you, Hermione," Harry said drily, remembering the time Uncle Vernon had thrashed him for daring to play on Dudley's computer. "Technology and me just never seemed to get on, somehow."

"Well, never mind, I think I've got enough information here," Hermione said, passing him a piece of paper. "I copied most of it from the Hedgehog Facebook FAQs." She hesitated a moment. "They do say there are rescue centres you can take hedgehogs to if they're injured," she said tentatively, then broke off, seeing Harry shake his head.

"I can't do that," he said.

"Why not?"

"Well, I didn't want to say anything over the phone, but I'm pretty sure this hedgehog has suffered a magical injury."

"A magical injury?" Hermione stared at Harry in disbelief. "Who would do that to a harmless animal?"

"That's the thing, Hermione," Harry said earnestly, "I think it might not be an animal at all. I think it might be an Animagus."

"O-kay," Hermione said. "Well, let's have a look at it."

"In here," Harry said, leading Hermione into the kitchen, where a cardboard box stood on the table. He reached inside and scooped out a large hedgehog, cradling it in the palms of his hands.

Hermione took out her wand and passed it rapidly over the wound on the hog's side, muttering under her breath as she did so. She looked up at Harry and frowned. "I think you're right. There are traces of magic here."

Harry nodded.

"If it is an Animagus," went on Hermione, "have you any idea who -?"

"This may sound silly," Harry told her, "but I did wonder, perhaps - Luna Lovegood?"

Hermione tipped the hedgehog towards her, peered at it closely. "Yes, it does sound silly," she said, trying not to laugh. "Unless Luna's had a sex change as well as being an Animagus."

Harry went red. "You mean -?"

"This is a boy hedgehog, Harry," Hermione said. "Look."

Harry looked where she was pointing. "I thought that was its belly button! You mean it's -"

"Its willy," said Hermione. "His willy, I should say. Actually, it's a sheath; the willy is inside. I looked at pictures of girl and boy hedgehogs online when I was researching them for you," she added, a touch defensively.

"So, not Luna then," Harry said thoughtfully. "I wonder who it is?"

"There is a spell to force an Animagus into their human form," Hermione said. "You remember, Sirius and Remus used it on Peter Pettigrew when he was masquerading as Ron's rat Scabbers. Maybe we could try that?"

"We'd better not, Hermione. I don't think he wants us to. Look." Harry nodded at the hedgehog, which had curled into a tightly defensive ball in his hands.

"Sheer coincidence," Hermione scoffed.

"No, it isn't," insisted Harry. "I'll prove it to you. Come on, Prickles, uncurl for me, please."

"Prickles? That's not very original. It's like calling a cat Moggy, or something. And what makes you think he can understand you?"

"It suits him. And of course he can understand me, look."

The hedgehog uncurled, lifted its snout and sniffed the air. A pair of bright black eyes regarded Harry and Hermione warily.

"Now say what you said before," Harry told Hermione.

"Why me?"

"It was your idea, and I don't want to be the bad guy here."

"Oh, very well," huffed Hermione, drawing her wand. "How about I use the spell to force him into his human form?"

"There!" Harry shouted triumphantly. "What did I tell you?"

For as soon as Hermione mentioned the spell, Prickles gave her what can only be described as a glare, before curling up into a tight ball once more.

* * *
"It's okay, she's gone now," Harry told the hedgehog as soon as the front door closed behind Hermione.

The hedgehog uncurled partway and gave Harry a quizzical glance.

"And I wouldn't try and force you out of your Animagus form, either," said Harry, laughing. "Even if I knew that spell Hermione was talking about, which I don't."

At this, Prickles uncurled fully. Peering closely into the little face, Harry could have sworn he saw an expression of relief, mixed with - could it be scorn? For a fleeting moment the hedgehog seemed to remind Harry of someone. If he could only think who it was... no, it was no good; the impression faded and was gone, leaving him with the tantalising feeling of having forgotten something important.

Giving up for the time being, Harry shrugged and pulled out his wand. Seeing that the hedgehog promptly flinched away and showed signs of curling up again, he said hastily, "Woah, don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see what I can do about that wound in your side, that's all."

Harry passed his wand over the injury, crooning a healing spell. Then he frowned thoughtfully. "I could really do with brewing a potion to put on this as well, something with dittany in it, maybe." He sighed. "I wish I still had the Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion Making."

The hedgehog butted its nose against his hand. Harry laughed. "I used to really fancy the Half-Blood Prince," he mused. "I'd read his handwritten notes in that book in bed at night and fantasise about him. That was before I found out who he really was, of course."

Harry gently stroked the hedgehog's chin with his forefinger, continued following the chain of thought started by the Half-Blood Prince. "Be good to know what happened to Snape's body. I'll never forget him dying in the Shrieking Shack, leaking blood and memories, looking into my eyes." He shivered. "The times I've wished, afterwards, that I hadn't just left him there. Perhaps I could've done something, even saved his life maybe. At the least he wouldn't have died alone. But I didn't know, then, what a hero he was. I hadn't seen his memories..." He fell silent, lost in memories of his own.

* * *
The next few days passed very pleasantly for Harry. Since splitting up with Ginny, he'd been in danger of turning into a recluse, hardly ever going out, and avoiding his best mate Ron, who naturally enough had taken Ginny's side. But now he had a companion, Prickles, to take care of, following the advice on hedgehog care and feeding in the notes Hermione had given him, and Prickles had responded by cuddling up to Harry in the evenings as he sprawled on the sofa drinking beer and watching TV.

So it came as a shock one evening when Hermione rang him with the warning that he was about to get an official visit from the Aurors, who suspected his hedgehog of being a Death Eater on the run.

"But that's ridiculous!" Harry snorted. "Prickles, a Death Eater? The idea's absurd."

"How do you know, Harry?" Hermione asked, with maddening calm.

"I - I just do," said Harry. "Prickles isn't evil, Hermione. I just know it. Goodbye."

"Don't hang up," Hermione said urgently. "There is a way you can tell if -"

"I'm not using that spell," Harry interrupted. "I promised Prickles I wouldn't."

"Well, the Aurors will, when they get there," snapped Hermione. "Anyway, I wasn't talking about that. Take a look at its foreleg and see if it's got the Dark Mark."

"Oh," Harry said blankly. "Yeah, okay. 'Bye."

He put the phone down and walked over to the corner where Prickles was dozing in his comfortably padded box.

"Sorry to disturb you, mate," Harry said, picking the hedgehog up. "I'm sure Hermione's talking rubbish, but I'd better check."

He gently pulled the hedgehog's left foreleg towards him and peered at it closely. Hmmm, there did seem to be something there - but surely not the Dark Mark? Worried now, Harry pulled out his wand and cast a magnifying spell. Then he gasped.

There, plainly visible on Prickles' leg, was the horribly familiar skull, a snake emerging from its open mouth.

The Dark Mark.

"Prickles!" Harry gasped, feeling utterly betrayed. "I - I trusted you! And all the time you were a Death Eater -"

The hedgehog reared up on its hind legs, its body elongating, changing, in front of Harry's eyes. The spines vanished, replaced by a black robe. Finally, a tall, dark-haired man stood before him.

"Former Death Eater," said Severus Snape.

* * *
"I liked you better when you were a hedgehog," Harry muttered under his breath.

He had been cooped up with Snape, avoiding the Aurors, for what seemed like weeks, though in fact it was only a few days; Snape resolutely refused to 'go public' in spite of all Harry could do to persuade him. When asked why, he turned evasive.

But now Harry had had enough. Determined to get answers from Snape, he issued an ultimatum.

"If you won't tell people you're still alive then I will."

Snape's reaction was instant. He grabbed Harry's jumper and hauled him close, thrusting his face into Harry's. Teeth bared, eyes flashing, he looked quite demented. Harry, shocked to feel a frisson of excitement at this treatment, gasped out, "Okay, okay. Just tell me why not, for Merlin's sake!"

"Very well." Snape slowly released him, with what Harry hoped was reluctance. "There are certain members of the Ministry of Magic who want me dead."

"Because -?"

"Because I can identify them as Voldemort's undercover agents. And even though their master is now dead, they would be the first to support a new Dark Lord, should one arise. Also -" his face darkened, "- also, they should pay for their crimes."

Harry whistled. "Wow. I see." He raised his eyebrows as a thought struck him. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I wasn't sure I could trust you," Snape admitted.

Harry was hurt. "You trusted me okay when you were a hedgehog," he said. "Snuggling up to me on the sofa in the evenings."

Snape's sallow face took on a tinge of pink. "I don't remember that," he muttered. "Things are - different - when I transform. A hedgehog's brain doesn't understand as much as a human's."

"You understood enough to curl into a ball when Hermione mentioned that spell," challenged Harry. Then he, too, suddenly turned pink. What if Snape remembered him saying that he'd fancied the Half-Blood Prince?

They stared at each other for a long moment. Harry was the first to give in.

"Fine," he muttered. "Have it that way if you want: you can't remember snuggling up to me." And you can't remember what I said about the Half-Blood Prince, either, he added in his private thoughts. Then, remembering Snape's skill in Legilimency, he hastily looked away.

Snape raised an eyebrow, hesitated for a moment. Then he said, "Very well. But maybe we should revisit this conversation once the situation at the Ministry of Magic is... resolved."

"Once the bad apples have been weeded out, you mean?" asked Harry, grinning at Snape's exaggerated wince for his mixed metaphors.

Snape gave a small nod. "Just so."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"Weedkiller would seem appropriate," said Snape, an evil smile twisting his thin lips.

Harry stared at him in horror. "You can't murder them!"

Snape looked down his long nose at Harry. "No? What a shame... So, can you suggest an alternative?"

"What's wrong with just going public and accusing them?"

"Their word against mine," Snape said dismissively. "And don't forget I'm the one with the Dark Mark."

"Won't they have Dark Marks too?" asked Harry. "And no good reason to -" He broke off: Snape was shaking his head.

"What part of undercover has escaped you, Potter?" he said sarcastically. "The Dark Lord was not so foolish as to install spies who could be so easily identified." Frowning, he rubbed at his own arm. "No, we must think of another way." He paused in thought for a moment, then added, "What we need is someone we can trust inside the Ministry..."

* * *
"Hello, Hermione," Harry said warmly. "Thanks for coming over at such short notice."

"That's okay, Harry," Hermione said. "You sounded rather mysterious on the phone. Why didn't you want me to tell Ron? Where have you been for the past few days? Was the hedgehog -"

Laughing, Harry held his hand up to stop her flow of questions. "Woah, steady on! I'll explain everything in a minute. But first, I want you to meet -" He stepped aside and ushered Snape into the room.

"Professor Snape!" gasped Hermione. "We thought you were dead! How very good to see you, sir."

Snape smiled at her thinly. "Hello to you too, Miss Granger. How nice to meet someone who treats me with proper respect."

"Hey! I treat you with proper respect, don't I?" protested Harry. Then he caught the private little smirk on Snape's face. Could Snape be teasing him? "Anyway," he went on, "let's all sit down, and we can explain things to Hermione. Oh -" as the others sat across from each other at the table, "- would anybody like a drink?"

Once they were all supplied with goblets of elf-brewed wine, Harry began his explanation.

"We need your help, Hermione, because you work in the Department of Mysteries, and we need an insider to help us trap some of Voldemort's old undercover agents, still working in the Ministry of Magic."

"Why me?" asked Hermione. "Why not ask Ron - he is an Auror, after all." She sipped her wine and eyed Harry shrewdly. "Surely you two aren't still at odds with each other after what Ron said when you broke up with Ginny."

Harry went red, shot a furtive glance at Snape. "When he called me a ratfink shirt-lifting poof, you mean?"

"And he used these particular epithets because -?" inquired Snape, with studied unconcern.

Harry shrugged. "Because I discovered I don't really like girls; not in that way, anyhow. Luckily this was before Ginny and I got too involved. But when I broke up with her, Ron - well, let's just say he didn't take it well. No. That's not the reason I didn't ask him to help us. I didn't ask him because he's never really believed in your innocence." He gestured apologetically towards Snape. "Even when I described your memories to him, he still said things like 'once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.' Crap like that."

"I don't agree with his theories about you at all," Hermione put in, with an anxious look at Snape. "I've argued with him loads of times, but you know what Ron's like when he gets an idea in his head."

At this, Snape seemed to be debating which choice insult to apply to Ron, but after a glance at Hermione's expression he merely murmured, "Just so."

Hermione's face lightened; she took another sip of wine. "I'll help you, of course. What do you need me to do?"

"There are three people I would like you to keep an eye on," Snape told her, "Each in a different department of the Ministry. I'd be especially interested in any interaction they have with each other. Here are their names, departments, and any information I already have on them."

He took a self-inking quill and a piece of parchment out of a pocket in his robe, and began to write. Harry and Hermione sat drinking their wine and watching him.

After a while, Snape looked up from the parchment to say, "Do be careful, Miss Granger, not to let them suspect that you are watching them. Travers, Richardson and Muldoon. Remember those names. And beware especially of Muldoon; it was he who hexed me." He rubbed his side and winced in remembered pain. "Thank you for your efforts to heal me, Potter," he added. "Although maybe a potion to lessen the scarring would be useful - with dittany, perhaps?"

Harry looked at him sharply, wondering whether this was an oblique reference to his musings about the Half-Blood Prince. But Snape merely returned a long, unreadable stare before turning back to his parchment.

* * *
"No, no, no." Snape tutted irritably. "It's three stirs counter-clockwise, Potter, not two."

Harry sulkily added an extra stir, glanced up from the cauldron. "Why don't you make it yourself, then, if I'm so bad at it?"

Snape ignored this. "Now add the essence of dittany," he ordered, passing the tiny bottle to Harry. "Only five drops, mind."

Harry uncorked the bottle and carefully added the required number of drops, nipping his lip between his teeth in intense concentration. As he recorked the bottle, he happened to glance at Snape, who was watching him with a curious expression on his face. Harry blushed and looked away.

"Four more stirs counter-clockwise," Snape instructed, "then one final, clockwise, stir. That completes the potion, and you may bottle it." He produced an empty bottle and placed it on the counter with a decisive click.

"Okay." Harry counted the stirs under his breath, sighed with relief when he finished without mishap or further snark from Snape. He extinguished the flame under the cauldron, picked up the empty bottle, and prepared to decant the potion into it.

"Not so fast, foolish boy," scolded Snape, holding out a hand to prevent him, "let the potion cool, first."

"You didn't say," Harry muttered sulkily. "How about I cast a cooling spell, then?"

Snape shook his head. "Best to let it cool naturally."

Harry shrugged, shuffled his feet, drummed his fingers on the counter.

"And stop fidgeting!" snapped Snape.

Harry stilled, his eyes fixed on Snape.

Silence stretched between them. Harry was finding it increasingly hard to breathe. Tentatively, he reached his hand out towards Snape, who regarded it warily but did not move away. The very air seemed to tremble with tension -

- then solidified into a silvery otter, which landed lightly between Harry and Snape, raised a paw pleadingly, and spoke in Hermione's voice.

"Help me!"

* * *
Harry followed Hermione's Patronus through the Ministry of Magic until it came to a halt outside a locked door at the end of a long corridor.

"Is Hermione in there?" Harry asked it quietly.

The silvery otter stared solemnly into Harry's eyes, nodded once, and faded away.

Harry reached inside his robes and took out Prickles the hedgehog. Placing him gently on the floor, he said in an undertone, "We're past all the security wizards; time to transform."

Prickles reared up on his hind legs, his prickly coat darkened, his body elongated and he became Snape once more, dressed in black robes, his wand in his hand. Harry also drew his wand, nodded towards the door.

"On three," Snape whispered. "One... two..."

They raised their wands.

"THREE!"

The door blasted open under their combined spell power.

Inside the room, three wizards stood in front of a chair with someone tied to it. As they whirled round on hearing the door being breached, Harry saw that the 'someone' was Hermione.

"Harry, be careful!" she called out. "They -"

She broke off as one of the wizards backhanded her across her face. "Quiet, Mudblood!" he snarled.

Snape stepped forward. "Prejudiced as ever, Muldoon?" he drawled contemptuously.

Muldoon scowled at him. "Recovered from my hex, have you?" he sneered. "Well recover from this, traitor!"

But Snape was ready for him: he disarmed Muldoon and freed Hermione from her bonds with two almost lazy flicks of his wand. Harry, meanwhile, was furiously duelling the other two wizards, Travers and Richardson. Finding herself free, Hermione snatched up her wand from a nearby table before Muldoon could reach it, and joined the fray. They soon found themselves at a disadvantage, as they restricted themselves to defensive spells and comparatively harmless hexes, unlike their opponents, who had no compunction about using illegal Dark spells such as Crucio and Sectumsempra. By the look on Snape's face, he was within a Kneazle's whisker of casting a few Dark spells of his own.

What Muldoon and his companions hadn't realised, however, was that their illegal spells would trigger an alarm elsewhere in the Ministry, and soon the room was filled with grim-faced Aurors who made short work of disarming the combatants and securing them with full body-binds.

The chief Auror regarded his captives with satisfaction.

"Veritaserum all round, I think," he said.

* * *
Muldoon, Travers and Richardson were soon in custody, condemned out of their own mouths under Veritaserum. Then it was Harry's turn. He entered the interview room with some apprehension, made worse when he discovered that Ron Weasley was to be one of his interrogators. What followed was so embarrassing that when Harry eventually stumbled out of the room he pleaded with Hermione to Obliviate him.

"Don't be silly, Harry," Hermione said crossly. "It can't have been that bad."

"It was!" Harry moaned, trying unsuccessfully to forget how he'd babbled about his crush on Severus Snape. The only bright spot was that Snape himself hadn't been present. But before he could say any more, the door of the interview room opened and Hermione was called inside.

Harry just had time to call "Watch out, your husband's on the panel!" before the door closed behind her. Hearing a suppressed chuckle, Harry whirled round to see Snape watching him with an amused expression.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"Waiting my turn with the Veritaserum, of course," Snape said coolly. "Not that I expect it to cause any difficulty to an accomplished Occlumens such as myself." His thin lip lifted in a sneer. "Whereas you, on the other hand, no doubt blurted out your deepest secrets."

This was so close to the truth that Harry could feel himself starting to blush.

Snape's attention sharpened. "Oho!" he said. "And what dark secrets do you have, Mr Potter?"

Harry resolutely refused to look at him. He knew that he was no match for Snape's Legilimency. But Snape closed the distance between them with two long strides and seized Harry's chin between his thumb and forefinger, obviously intent on forcing Harry to face him.

Just in time, the door of the interview room opened; Snape released Harry and stepped back, his face inscrutable. Harry turned, expecting to see Hermione, but was surprised when Ron came out instead.

"Conflict of interest," Ron said in answer to the question on Harry's face. "My boss didn't think it was appropriate for me to take part in interrogating my wife." He looked from Harry to Snape, and scowled. Harry closed his eyes. He just knew what Ron was about to say. Sure enough -

"Still here, Harry?" Ron said unpleasantly. "Oh, of course, you'd want to stay with him - " he jerked his thumb at Snape, "- since you, you know, are in love -" he stretched this last word out sneeringly, "- with him."

There was a long silence. Finally Harry dared to open his eyes and look at Snape. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, Harry almost giggled at the sight of Snape's face. In all the years he'd known him, Harry had never seen the man look so utterly gobsmacked. Snape's hand twitched towards his wand pocket then fell back as he realised that his wand, along with Harry's, was still in the Aurors' keeping.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that neither he nor Ron was about to be hexed. Though I don't know why I'm glad Ron isn't getting hexed, he thought bitterly, after the way he just dropped me in it.

Snape was now looking intently at Ron. "Why do you say that, Mr Weasley?" he asked, his voice cold. "Is it your idea of a joke?"

"No joke," Ron said. "I wish it was. When he -" this time he jerked his thumb towards Harry, "- was under Veritaserum, he told us all how much he fancies you. Wants your cock up his arse, even."

Snape drew in a long breath. "So that was your dark secret," he said softly, looking at Harry with a strange expression on his face. "Tell me -"

But before he could continue, the door of the interview room opened and Hermione looked out.

"Could you come inside, please, Professor Snape," she asked politely. "No, not you, Ron," as Ron made a move to follow him. "It's felt that you might be too biassed."

Ron sat down, scowling.

* * *
Time passed. Ron said nothing to Harry, and Harry certainly didn't have anything to say to Ron.

Harry's eyes were fixed on the door to the interview room, willing it to open. As time went on his imagination ran wild with lurid possibilities:

The Veritaserum hadn't worked, and the Aurors were torturing Snape to get answers out of him.

The Veritaserum had worked, but they'd found him guilty of something or other and Apparated him straight to Azkaban without bothering to let Harry know.

They'd cleared him of all charges on condition he never saw Harry again.

They'd cleared him of all charges and told him he was free to go, but Snape had instantly Apparated away, choosing never to see Harry again. At this thought, Harry stuffed his fist into his mouth to stop himself whimpering aloud.

But at long last the door opened and Snape stepped out, closely followed by Hermione.

"Here, Harry, your wand," she said, holding it out to him.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Harry, taking his wand from her and tucking it away securely. He glanced at Snape. "Did they give you yours back?"

"They did," said Snape, tapping his wand pocket with a long forefinger.

Watching him, Harry had a sudden flash of that same finger, lubed-up and sliding into his entrance.

He must have made some sound, for Snape's eyes were suddenly on his, widening at what they saw. Snape cleared his throat.

"Well, Mr Potter - Harry. How... interesting," he purred. "Maybe we should go back to your house and continue this... in private?"

He waited for the reply, wondering how Harry would address him. Would it be Snape, or would it be Severus? But, as he was to do many times over the coming years, Harry confounded his expectations.

"That would be awesome," he said. "Prickles."