Severus

It was a lovely summer day. The seventh year potions class wandered in the fields at the edge of Coldheart Farm. Snape's worst class, the combined Slytherin and Gryffindor horror which he would have left behind if only Dumbledore had permitted it. But the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw lot had gone on the botanical excursion, and so the others must go also. It had stormed again and again in the spring and prevented the class from going, and so Dumbledore had decreed that the class could have their outing at the end of summer.

Giving up his own time had not pleased Snape, and the plants were more valuable if collected in the spring when they were young and new, but he was resigned to it. Professor Sprout had gone along to help keep the students in order. She discussed the value of fresh ingredients, and Snape had talked about the properties which changed when they were dried. Each student had twelve ingredients to gather, label and properly store. Then they would take them to the potions classroom and use them to make their own potion from scratch. Without consulting a book or any other source than their own memories.

The students were spread across the meadow. Snape himself was moving in the direction of an old, tumbledown cottage at the far side of the field, collecting his own herbs and grasses, but looking up occasionally to make sure everyone was at work. He was keeping a sharp eye out the antics of courting couples, which seemed to proliferate in the summer. Like Granger and Weasley, who had lately taken to whispering together and holding hands.

Gah.

He was looking up to tell them for the third time to keep their effing hands off each other although each time he forced himself to find a more civilized way of stating it when above their heads he saw something extremely odd. In fact....

"Run!" Snape shouted, pointing towards the woods at the other side of the field. "Run!" he ordered again, and leaped into a sprint himself, slapping Weasley and Granger as he passed them to goad them on. Students looked up, saw what Snape had seen and, with screams and shrieks, began to obey him. Snape threw up a protective shield behind them, and knew when it failed. He did a second and a third before giving it up as a lost cause.

It was powerful magic behind them, which harnessed the deepest power of nature. The din was incredible, the roar of sound so close behind them, and as they ran for the trees, which were whipping around, the smaller saplings bent to the ground, several of the students swerved and ran towards the old cottage instead.

"No! Dammit, not there! Keep going!" Snape screamed out his words, knowing they probably could not be heard, following three students into the cottage in order to drive them out again. But it was too late. The winds hit, the cottage shivered, creaked and cracked. It was dark inside. "The floor! Get on the floor!" Snape screamed. There was a boom louder than any thunder and Snape cast out a spell, chanting as the dark room got darker. And then the oxygen seemed to leave the room and with a last, gasped word, Professor Snape passed out.

He woke up. He regretted it.

For a moment, he wondered if he were a young man again, waking up after one of those endless orgys that Voldemort had encouraged among his followers. Blasting headache, limbs everywhere, and his head was resting on someone's thigh.

"Professor? Can you hear me? Please, Professor!"

Guts for garters. Hermione Granger had followed him down to hell. Snape, in his irritation, snarled, "Shut up."

"I can't, sir! Please!"

"At least lower your voice. Oh gods, my head," he moaned as he sat up. He waited until his head stopped whirling. With one hand to his throbbing temple he looked around him. He was sprawled on the floor of the old cottage, and leaning over him were oh, yes, this was hell. The looming white faces of Granger and Weasley. Potter sat on the floor beside him. He closed his eyes. Had his head been on Potter's thigh?

"Professor Snape? There's something really, really wrong here," Weasley said.

"It's strange," Potter whispered in agreement.

It did look strange. Streaming in the windows was the brightest sunshine that Snape had ever seen. That piqued his curiosity and he forced himself to stand and look out. Bright sun directly over head, on vegetation burned to yellow white, stretching as far as the eye could see. Above, an immense and endless pale sky. Nothing else. No fence, no hill, no house, no bird or beast.

"It's a wheat field," Hermione whispered.

"It's hot," Ron added. "I've never been anywhere this hot." Sweat was trickling down the side of his face, which was going red.

Harry was looking out the window now, too. "It looks so strange."

"I don't think we're in Scotland any more," Ron added.

Trust a Weasley to state the bloody obvious. And what was that Granger girl mumbling? Snape turned to snarl at her, and was surprised when she rushed out of the door and ran frantically around the outside of house. "What was that all about?" he snarled as she skidded to a halt in front of the door, where the other three were now gathered.

"I wanted to make sure the house hadn't fallen on anybody. And killed them," she added.

The chances of that seemed remarkably remote, given the lack of anything at all outside of the house beyond wheat. Snape let his scorn show. She flushed and looked away.

"Did you find anyone?" Ron asked.

"No." She looked a little dismayed at that. Silly goose. Then she added, "Do you think we're in Kansas?" which would have been a complete non sequitur had the place had not, in fact, resembled what Snape assumed Kansas might look like.

"Why Kansas?" Weasley wanted to know.

"There's this story about a girl who gets caught in a cyclone and is whisked away to a magical land. In it..." Hermione began.

"Let us not waste our time on trivial inconsequentials such as book reviews," Snape snapped. "I think it is more important to get back home. Since you are not able to apparate yet, I propose that I return to Hogwarts. I'll alert Dumbledore and see if the rest of the students survived. Stay here. Do not go anywhere until I return." Snape whirled and strode to the center of the room, closed his eyes and....

Nothing happened.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Snape looked a bit startled, but quickly masked it.

"There's something wrong with the magic. It's so faint," Hermione said slowly. "Almost as if it weren't there at all."

Harry got out his wand. He flicked it and nothing happened except one feeble little sparkling star. "You're right!"

"This is horrible," Weasley said, waving his own wand around. "What is it? A hex? A curse?"

"I think it's just Kansas," Hermione said. "It's not listed in Magical Geography," she recalled.

"But why should it take our magic?" Weasley protested. "And how does it do it?"

The girl drew her brows together, thinking hard. "I read once that magic is strongest near forests and coasts. Kansas is far away from those. Maybe magic things have all left here. Or there is something here pulling magic out of the air and sucking it away. I think it could be countered, if we knew how."

She was probably right. Not that Snape was going to tell her so. He frowned, trying to think of what to do.

"What we need is to find a town," Granger said decisively.

"Muggles?" Weasley asked, uncertainly.

Snape bit back his response. Of course Muggles, stupid boy. Did you expect a magic village, here? In this magicless desert? Only muggles would be stupid enough to live here.

"So we can find a computer and I can email my parents. They can tell Dumbledore where we are," she added.

Email? But the others seemed to know what she meant and Snape was loath to reveal his ignorance.

"Besides, I'm getting thirsty," Weasley said, looking around.

"Let us look over the house for food, water, books," Snape said, glad to have something useful to do. "Each of you take a room. Be quick and efficient. Gather anything you think might be of use." They scattered. He was left to go through the parlor. The few bits of furniture had nothing in them, on them, under them. There was no carpet on the floor, although it was plain that one had once been nailed there. As he went from wall to wall, he looked out the windows. What a dreary landscape. And it was getting hotter by the moment.

The news the students brought was less than salubrious. There were two bedrooms, each with a bed, but no mattress. Weasley came back with an empty old bottle. Granger with some string. Potter with nothing at all except a report that there was no bathroom or running water.

"I think you go outside for the lav. I saw it when I circled the house," Hermione said.

Clearly, their salvation lay elsewhere. "Let's go," Snape said, and stepped outside.

Well. Now he had an idea of what hell would be like.

"I'm taking off my robe," Ron said, and the other students followed his example. Rather to Snape's surprise, they all wore variations of muggle clothing beneath their robes. Ron sported an orange t-shirt with the Cannons logo front and back, and lightweight trousers. Harry's clothing was rather odd, an over-size shirt and baggy trousers, tied with a bit of cord instead of a belt. Hermione Granger was the eye-popping surprise. At least, Ron's eyes were definitely showing signs of strain, and Harry looked rather amazed as well. She wore a tight pink shirt which did not even come down far enough to touch the waistband of the rather tight short shorts she wore. What an amazing amount to leg she had. And she seemed to have a well-developed...chest. Ah. Well. Snape looked away.

"Aren't you going to take your robe off?" Harry asked.

"No."

"But it's hot."

"I do not care to burn. I suggest you carry your robes along, in case it is necessary to protect your skin," Snape added. No need to mention he had no shirt on under his robe, only trousers.

"We'll roast!"

"Have you ever had a severe sunburn, Mr. Weasley? Painful, I assure you, I do not wish to deal with the moaning and screaming. There appears to be something in that direction," he pointed. "Let's go." He headed off and they had little choice but to hoist their haversacks to their shoulders and follow.

It was a dirt track they found. It lead to a strange road. They looked both ways down a road that was as straight as a ruler, and they headed north only because it looked like there was something green on the horizon. Unless that was a mirage. After a half hour of walking they didn't seem to be any closer. Snape was trying to ignore it all by concentrating on concocting a story the locals might believe. Something to account for accents, no money, no possessions and no knowledge of the area.

"I have to stop, Professor," Hermione said. Sweat had turned her hair dark and her face was almost as red as Ron's. Potter sported flushed cheekbones but was otherwise a trifle pale.

"Very well." Snape had tied his own hair back with a piece of string. His robe was soaked at the neckline. He could feel his skin reacting to the sun. It did not make him happy. "There's a spell to block the strength of the sun. Even if it is only partially successful I suggest you all attempt it," Snape said, and they spent fifteen minutes working on it, and although there was no real way to test it, Snape was sure that none of the students had much success. Then they went on.

Salvation, when it finally arrived, was in the guise of a red pick-up truck, which came thundering along the road, passed them, screeched to a halt and then backed up. A large lady leaned out of the window and said, "Hey, folks! Have a breakdown?"

"I'm afraid our situation is a bit more dire than that, madam," Snape replied. Her eyes went wide as he spoke, but her main reaction seemed to be delight at the accent.

"Trouble?" she asked.

"It appears our tour guide has abandoned us, and taken the vehicle as well," Snape explained. "We would like to speak to the local constabulary."

"Well, hell! Where did it happen? I suppose you need to talk to the sheriff, if it was out here. Look, you young ones hop in the back and I'll drive you into town. Don't bother about the dog, he doesn't bite." As the students awkwardly clambered over the tailgate, Snape made his way with equal uncertainty up into the cab. It was an unsettling way of traveling. The floor was covered with a layer of what seemed to be paper wrappings from fast food emporiums and an empty bottle or two. The upholstery was split and repaired with some sort of grey tape. He glanced back to see the enthusiastic dog bouncing from student to student, liberally applying a long wet tongue. He did not envy them the experience.

"Sorry we don't have air conditioning in this old thing. Roll down your window. I'm Marilyn Hausen. We have a farm west of here." She looked over at him inquiringly as the truck picked up speed. She did not appear to be watching the road at all, which left him somewhat nervous. Middle aged, indifferently dressed in a t-shirt and slacks, she drove with one browned arm out the window.

"I am Professor Snape of Hogwarts School. My students are Miss Hermione Granger, Mr. Ron Weasley and Mr. Harry Potter." At that moment another vehicle similar to the one they were in came roaring along from the other direction. Dust smothered the students. The dog in the other truck yelped and barked at the dog in theirs, who trampled all over the students in his attempt to reach the best vantage point and return the insult.

"Idiot dog. He's an Australian cattle dog, smart as they come, and he likes people, but he drives me nuts. Are you from Australia?"

"No, madam. We are from Scotland and England."

"You are far from home. How did you end up here?"

Time to try out the story. "We are on an educational trip. The students were to be collecting botanical specimens, and of course we were also visiting historic landmarks as the opportunity rose. We had hired a guide and a vehicle. This morning he told us of an interesting type of oak tree that once covered a broad area. It is endangered now and there are only a few pockets of it. It would be somewhat rare to find it this far north and he said he knew of a small grove. We were not, of course, then surprised to find him taking us so far from the main thoroughfares. He stopped at an abandoned house and told us the grove was behind it. As soon as we were away from the vehicle he presented a gun, demanded our valuables and then he drove off and left us there."

"He took everything?"

"Money, identification, luggage, passports." He hoped he sounded credible. Being stuck here was depressing enough to lend verisimilitude to his demeanor.

"That's the pits."

"As our school is on holidays, we can't even telephone," was that the right word? He hurried on in case it was not, "the school for assistance. However, Ms. Granger proposes to find access to email and contact her parents. They will then contact the headmaster, who can send us assistance."

"That's a bright girl you have there. The public library has computers. I bet the librarian, Mary Phelps, can help. And don't worry about anything. After you report this, we'll get you settled for the day. It's fair time. Lots of things to do in town."

Unsure of what to say to that, Snape said cautiously, "Are we still in - - we drove through the night. Would it seem odd if I asked where we were?

"Well, you're smack-dab in the middle of western Kansas. Nearest town is Carter's Crossing, and if you want a big town you have to drive a hundred miles to Garden City. Just your luck it's the hottest day of the year so far. Was one hundred and six when I left home and I bet it's up a degree or two by now."

Snape did the math in his head and agreed. It was hot.

They drove for another ten minutes before passing a house. It looked abandoned. A mile later they pulled into the drive of a house that at least looked lived in, although it was not in good repair. "Wait here a minute," Marilyn said, and she dashed up to the house, knocked loudly and briefly on the door, seemed not at all surprised that there was no answer and went inside anyway. The house didn't seem to be locked. Their driver came out again with her arms full.

"This is my second cousin's house. They're at the county fairgrounds, but I know they won't mind if I borrow a few things. Here, kids. This is a sun screen, you make sure you rub that all over your skin before you turn into boiled lobsters back there. And then here's some cold pop. It suddenly occurred to me you must be parched."

To the chorus of grateful thank you's she climbed into her truck. She handed a cold can to Snape and then began to back out of the drive. The were soon barreling along. Snape looked at the can, wondering how to open up. He took an educated guess and pulled the protrusion on top. Ah. Success. He took a cautious sip.

What nasty stuff.

Still, it was cold and wet. He drank it. "Thank you," he managed to say, when he remembered that the situation called for manners. He looked behind. Weasley was smearing a white substance all over Granger's legs. And enjoying himself entirely too much. Snape scowled.

"All they had was Pepsi. I'm a Coke person myself."

What could you say to that?

Eventually they arrived at the town. It was the ugliest village he had ever seen, he thought as she pointed out the places of interest on main street. But at least there were a few trees here and there. She pulled into the parking lot in front of the county courthouse and walked with them into the building.

It had air conditioning.

Possibly, Snape conceded, the closest muggles ever came to magic.

Marilyn showed then where the sheriff's office was, called the officer at the desk by his first name and 'got the ball rolling,' as she called it. She disappeared after a few minutes and left them in the hands of the law. The law in this case was a young man named Deputy Thornton, only a few years older than his students. He seemed quite taken with Granger, and kept sucking in his stomach and combing his fingers through his hair. Weasley started frowning.

The students were present as he once again gave his version of the events. They were quick children, he had to give them that. Weasley added that the vehicle was a van, a Ford, and Potter offered that it was maroon and Granger said it had Virginia license plates. What liars they all were. He was almost proud of them.

The man took down their names, ages and a great deal of other information, had them fill out a report and sign it, and then showed then where the restroom was. By the time they had all gratefully used the facilities, Marilyn was back.

"I'll take charge of these guys, Chuck. We'll take them to do their e-mail at the library. Then I'm going to take them over to the Methodist church and then to the fairgrounds. You can track us down if you need us. We'll be talking to Marge, I bet she'll let them use the trailer tonight."

"Got it all worked out, do you?" laughed Deputy Thornton.

"You know it." She slapped him one the shoulder and led them out to her truck again.

"First stop is the Methodist's," she told Snape as they climbed back into the truck. "They're having a pot luck tonight and some of the food is already there. We'll get you fed first."

"Thank you. We'll be able to pay you when we... "

"Don't worry about that," she interrupted him. "Folks around here don't mind lending a hand once and awhile. Now what's good about the Methodists is they have a huge rummage sale every year, and so they've got a storeroom full of clothing. We can get you some luggage and a change of clothing or two. Nothing worse than wearing dirty clothes you've sweated in for a day already. They have a washing machine, too, you can wash what you have. Look, can I ask you about that thing you're wearing?"

"The robe? Required for teachers at our facility."

"Positively medieval, Sev. Murder in this climate. Best if you go native for awhile."

Severus went pale, either at the thought of wearing muggle clothing or the truncation of his name. "Perhaps you are right," he said weakly.

"I usually am. Just ask my kids. I have four, two boys and two girls. You married?"

"No."

"Kids?"

"The students suffice."

"Don't know how you teachers stand it. Especially teenagers." She shook her head but went on, "At least there's no wife to worry about you being in trouble over here. Of course, that means you'd better watch out for the barracudas."

Fish? He looked at her, confused.

"Honey, you have that exotic accent and a job. Keep your backside to the wall."

It sounded ominous, but apparently he was considered marriageable, and was being warned about predatory women. He fought back a shudder. "Thank you for the advice," he said, biting back the sarcastic comment that rose to his lips. He'd had to do that several times in the last hour. It was going to be a long day. He made a decision. "I do have a," what was that stupid muggle word? He couldn't think of it and settled for, "good friend."

"I'd mention her at regular intervals," Marilyn said, laughing.

The trip to the library was a revelation. For one thing, although there were books, there was also a great many computers. Granger plopped herself down in front of one and was soon typing away. Potter and Weasley were leaning over her shoulder, fascinated. Snape went to look at the books.

Not a potions text among them, of course, but what was there was bizarre. Somebody named Steven King commanded his own rack in the middle of the room. The offerings in one half of the room seemed to be for very small children. Most of the books for adults had lurid bright covers and many were small, with odd paper covers.

There was excited whispering from his students. He went back to discover that Granger had received a reply already from her parents, who were going to contact Dumbledore and arrange for their transportation home. Snape felt a sense of relief now that rescue was in motion, although he was aware that because of the magic drain, time differences and the complex international relations between wizarding communities he would probably be here several days.

"They'll have someone to us by Monday," Granger announced to Marilyn, who seemed genuinely pleased for them. She hustled them out of the library as soon as they had thanked the librarian again. Potter, Snape discovered, had quite a turn of phrase when he cared to use it and he had made a very pretty thank you. The librarian was plainly charmed with him.

The church was a big stone building a few blocks off Main street. It was not air conditioned but it was at least cooler inside than out. They were taken into the basement by a spry little old lady who threw open the door to a large room and urged them to help themselves. The students were having fun, chattering to each other, holding up one t-shirt after another, pawing through stacks of shorts and jeans. He left them to it and went to look at the clothing on hangers along the back of the room, which seemed to be designed for adults. He was quite aware that he was going to have to get out of his robe. It was bloody hot, for one thing, despite being the lightest he owned. And it definitely drew attention.

An hour later, they each had an suitcase and several changes of clothing. Their own clothes although not their robes--were in a washer, and each of them had enjoyed a short shower. The students did not look that much different, although Potter looked significantly better in clothing that actually fit. It was quite disconcerting, however, to see how they reacted to him when he stepped out of the small bathroom, in his "new" clothing.

He had found a black t-shirt and wore over it a black silk shirt which he had not buttoned. It was not quite the right size, but he had chosen the silk shirt for the light weight and the long sleeves. Although the Dark Mark on his arm meant nothing here, he still did not care to explain it. He wore black slacks and had his wet hair tied back. The only thing he had on which was his own was his shoes. Even the stockings were new. And at least those were new. Snape had never had clothing that had first been worn by others. It seemed a strange concept.

"Oh," said Weasley.

"Wow," said Granger.

Potter just stared with his mouth open. Not at all an attractive look for him.

"My my, you do clean up nice," Marilyn said as she came down the stairs. "Come upstairs and eat while your clothes are drying."

The food was...odd. The students were not shy about asking the names of things, so he was aware that he was eating pasta salad, jello salad, fried chicken, and Dr Pepper cake, and had iced tea to drink. What a very strange thing to do to tea. But he drank two glasses full, mindful of the dangers of dehydration, and he urged the students to do the same.

They were finishing the meal when Marilyn came in again with two men. They were introduced as the pastor of the Life Church and the Baptist preacher. The two men seemed to be there just to meet the strangers and invite them to attend church if they were still there on Sunday. Snape did not mention that he had not darkened the door of a church in his entire life until today, and honestly felt he was doing them a favor thereby. He thanked them, wondering how many years it would be to get the strangeness of saying those words out of his skull.

And then they gave him the Indigent Fund from the Baptists (fifty dollars) and a donation from the Life Church's Love Fund (fifty dollars) and laughed with him as he explained he did not even have anything to put the money in. The Methodist minister, a spry lady of uncertain years who wore her hair in a long braid, came up with a worn wallet from the rummage room.

At least this time he let the children do the thanking. His tongue had gotten tired of the words.

Hermione

This was the strangest thing that had ever happened to her. It was really strange. And she'd been through some strange things in her life, especially since meeting Harry. Here she was with Harry and Ron and Professor Snape. It shouldn't have been strange, except for the Snape part. And being in Kansas. But it was odd on several levels and she was having a hard time coming to terms with it all.

As far as she could tell, she was, for once, not only the side kick. The researcher. The cheerleader. She was, in fact, almost center stage. She was used to being part of Harry Potter's circus. Having a friend who was the Boy Who Lived, who was destined to save the Wizarding world, meant that there were lots of adventures, but they were mostly Harry's adventures, and she and Ron were along for the ride. She didn't mind. Who'd want to be Harry? And it was the right thing to do, helping her friend. But here and now, she was the one who had the most idea of what was going on. Even Professor Snape, the adult, didn't have a handle on this. And wasn't that something to see? Snape on the defensive. Snape, out of his element. Snape, being polite.

Although, he was smooth, she had to hand him that. He'd gotten them organized and got them to town, and that story he'd made up had been really plausible. She could see his Slytherin abilities in use and had to acknowledged to herself that the Slytherins did have some talents. He was actually charming, and who knew their potions master even knew words like please and thank you? But it was clear to her, at least, that it was taxing him to have to deal with the muggle world.

And even though they were in another country, she was the one who knew the most about Muggles. She was the one who knew how to use the computer and she was going to be the one who had to figure out what was going on. Because she was the only one who had read the Wizard of Oz seven years ago and she hoped her memory held up and she was the only one who knew that something really strange was going on.

Being carried away by a magical cyclone wasn't the sort of thing that could really surprise a young witch or wizard. But what did it mean when events were parallel to something in a story? She would have felt more comfortable if the story had been played out exactly scene by scene. Then she would know what to expect. But this seemed to be only a general pattern, a reversal of what happened in the story. You couldn't count on anything except the unexpected.

Dorothy Gale was right about one thing. In a situation as odd as this one, as interesting as the place was, all she really wanted to do was go home. After all, in the Oz story, there was a nasty witch after the heroes. Was something going to be after them? And what in Merlin's name was it

going to be?

The waiting for it was getting on her nerves. She also needed to warn everybody else, and it seemed like they were always surrounded by Muggles. Nice Muggles. But still....

And now they were going to have to get back in that horrible truck. The boys were enjoying it, hanging over the sides, or playing with the dog. And in those tight pants Ron's arse was a delight to behold. She'd recently developed a bit of an interest in seeing more of Ron's body than one could see when he wore his school robes. She knew now why they had to wear such archaic uniforms at school. They hid so much.

Not to mention what the teacher's robes disguised. Wow, look what Professor Snape was hiding! He was still covered head to toe, but it was clear he had good shoulders, and a flat stomach and his butt wasn't as good as Ron's, but it was still really Oh dear. One should really not be thinking such things about a teacher.

Much better to think about the problem they all had. Only it was hard to think while having to do things. While being bounced around in the back of the truck. When having to meet people and think on your feet and...

"Hermione?"

Ron had slid over next to her. Now the bouncing was having other effects, as his hard thigh rubbed against hers and her shoulder gently bumped against his chest. Their eyes met. His head came down and was resting against hers as he spoke into her ear. "You were great," he whispered to her, making her blush. He moved his hand to her waist and leaned closer.

There was a rap on the window and he looked up into Snape's glaring eyes. He took his hands away. Hermione blushed again.

"Damn him," Ron muttered. "Eyes like a hawk."

"Well, really, Ron. Here?" Hermione asked, her voice sharp with her own frustration. This was as close as Ron had gotten to actually to saying something. Or doing something. She was pretty sure she knew how he felt, but he was just so so stupid about getting the words out of his mouth. And every time it seemed like he was going to, something happened. A girl could die of frustration.

The truck went into a wide turn and she braced herself. They went up a long drive and pulled up in front of a strange sort of house. Long and narrow, it had trees all around it, and it had been painted a funny blue color. Hermione leaned out of the plume of dust which was settling around the truck and gingerly climbed out. Both Ron and Harry were getting good at it and just jumped to the ground. Show offs.

"This trailer isn't being used right now. My friend Marge's mom used to live here but she's in assisted living now. Just too old to live on her own. Anyway, all her personal stuff is out, but the place is still furnished and the electricity on because Marge uses it when relatives come to town. Saves them the price of a motel room. We'd have gotten you a motel room but I don't know as there are many left, it being fair week and all, so we thought this would be a little better anyway. So there's a fridge although lord knows what's in it, and a microwave and the beds are all made up fresh. Working plumbing, and fans by each bed. Marge says feel free to treat it like your own for a few days. She'd be here to show you around but her son's got a steer in this year and they are running behind. Here's the key. You can leave your bags here. Save you hauling them around. Then I'll take you out to the fairground."

It was a strange place, sort of stuffy, but she showed them how to open the windows and they got another opportunity to use the bathroom. They left everything except Hermione's bag it had the book she was reading in it-- and Ron and Harry tucked their stuff into hers, lazy things. All too soon they were jouncing down the road again.

"Fairgrounds!" Marilyn hollered as they stopped at last. "Hey! Joe!" Joe loped over. He was about their age, a lanky youth wearing a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. He gave them a grin and actually tipped his hat to her. Hermione giggled. Joe's grin got a little wider. Ron seemed to have lost his.

"Joe, you show these youngsters around the fairgrounds. They're from England and have probably never been to a county fair. Least not like ours. We'll be over in the entry building. I gotta tell Mrs. Henderson that I finally found a pie judge for her who has absolutely no bias!" With that, she took hold of Professor Snape's arm and pulled him towards the big white building at the end of the lot. Hermione had never quite seen that look on anyone's face before, much less Snape's. She poked her elbow into Ron's side and heard him snicker. Did it again to make him stop.

Pie judging?

Joe was joined by two more boys and a girl. Rather awkward greetings were exchanged and names. The girl was Ashley and the boys Jason and Jeremy. As a group they moved down the dirt path to the barns. Their guides took them to look at steers. And sheep. And goats. Rabbits. Chickens. She pretended great interest in them and fell a little behind the others. It gave her a chance to think.

Okay, carried here by magic cyclone. The right number of people in the group. Although they were missing a dog, unless Marilyn's counted. What else was missing? Silver slippers for one. Ruby, if you went by the movie version, but she was discounting that. Where the heck was Glenda the Good? And the house should have squashed a wicked witch. They were going to get home without following the yellow brick road. Too many things didn't match.

But some things did. Just enough to make her uneasy.

It was so hot. She rubbed at her neck, holding her hair off her skin for a few minutes. It didn't help much.

She went back to pretending to look at sheep, and thinking. Okay, it was easy to figure out who Snape was. The one without a heart. Like he would even go looking for one. But he needed it. So give him the role of the Tin Woodman. And Ron was playing the part of the Cowardly Lion. He didn't really lack courage, but if he didn't hurry up and finally get up the nerve to say something to her, she was going to...to....well, she wasn't sure what but it was going to be painful. For him. Which left the role of Dorothy and The Scarecrow. She sighed and reluctantly had to face it . Harry was probably Dorothy. He'd wanted a real home for as long as he'd known him. Which left the role of Scarecrow to her. She was frustrated with that. She had brains. But then the reflected that everyone in the story pretty much had access to what they desired all along. That was the point of the story. And sure, she had brains, but recently she'd become aware that she had no idea what she was going to do with them. What good was it to be smart if you weren't using it? The problem was, there were so many choices, and there was only one year of school left. It was almost time to make the choice and pick a future.

She didn't have any idea. Except that she had finally become sure that it was Ron she wanted to marry. She was also aware that she was not the sort of woman who found all her fulfillment in home and family. She needed a career, a field, a future. How could she decide? She liked everything. Almost. She wouldn't be finding a place in Divination. Or Potions. At one point she had thought she might like to be a teacher. But it was research that appealed more. Research into what?

Ah, fudge. Maybe all her ideas were wrong. Maybe they were all here just because Voldemort wanted to get rid of Harry for awhile. There was the problem of who brewed up that magical storm and why. She hoped Dumbledore was keeping a close eye on things. It was true that her first impulse was to assume that Voldemort was behind this. Few other wizards, light or dark, had access to that much sheer power. But why? Why just send them halfway across the world? Why not kill them?

Of course, it made sense to send them somewhere non-magical. They were practically powerless here. Although she had been thinking, what if they all four performed the same bit of magic at once? Could they accomplish something? She would have to ask Professor Snape what he thought.

Meanwhile, she found herself watching a young muggle polish the hooves of his cow. Steer. While his sister used a hair dryer on the tail.

The universe was a lot stranger than she had thought.

Ron

Hermione was walking next to that guy again. Smarmy stupid cowboy. He was talking to her. Ashley was there, too, but she was okay. It was that tall boy who kept smiling at his girl who was driving him crazy.

Harry leaned over and whispered to him, "Ron. Your face looks like poison."

"Piss off."

Harry snorted. "She's just talking to him."

"I don't like it."

"I noticed."

"It's been an hour. We need to report to Snape." Ron said.

"Ron!" Harry gasped, laughing out loud at the very idea of Ron wanting to follow one of Snape's rules. Of wanting to go find the Potions master.

"Hermione! Snape time!" Ron shouted.

Hermione turned and said to Ashley, "We have to report back to Professor Snape every hour or he comes looking for us."

"He looks really strict," Ashley said. "What's he teach?"

"Chemistry," Hermione said, swiftly.

"I hate chemistry," Joe said.

"You hate school totally," Jason said, coming up on Hermione's other side. "What's your school like?"

"We have to work really hard," Hermione said.

"Even in the summer," Ron said. "Come on. You don't want house points taken away."

Harry and Hermione were looking at him strangely. All he wanted to do was lose the guys. Ashley could stay. Maybe she and Potter would hit it off, although they'd hardly looked at each other. The group headed back towards the building where they had left Professor Snape. It was cooler inside. It took awhile to find the professor. He was surrounded by three women and a man. One of the women held a clipboard, and there was a table in front of them with a halfdozen pies arrayed on it. Each one had a slice cut out of it. Snape was tasting a bit of pie from a plastic fork. The students came and stood next to him, knowing quite well not to interrupt him until he deigned to take notice of them.

"This one has a touch of citrus. Grapefruit, I believe. Quite effective, but almost too tart." Snape said. "I would say the previous sample had the better balance."

"Second place, then," said the woman with the clipboard, writing briskly. Beside her another woman whispered gleefully, "So that's Emily's secret ingredient!"

Snape looked bored. He had that sleepy-eyed look he got in class sometimes. Better not to be around him when he was like that.

"Sir?" Harry said, politely. "Do you need us?"

"No, Potter. I believe I will be engaged here for another hour. I will expect to see you then."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said.

"What polite children," murmured the lady with the clipboard.

"Upon occasion," Snape said dryly and turned back to the pies.

"What else is there to see?" Hermione asked Ashley as the group left the building.

"The main exhibit hall is open. I entered in Photography this year. Let's go see if I got a ribbon." Ashley grabbed Hermione's hand and the boys trailed after.

Merlin, it was hot.

And Ron had thought the cows were boring. After listening to Ashley squeal happily she'd got second place with her photography and a first for a ceramic cat -- they'd wandered up and down the isles. On one level, Ron sort of admired all the hard work it represented, and not a bit of it done by magic. Some of it looked like it would be fun to do, too. The wood-burning, for example, with the elaborate patterns all over the picture frame and the wooden box. Hermione liked the quilts and Harry seemed fascinated by the display of ropes and knots. He was crouched down, studying them intently. They finally had to practically pull him away.

But on another level, it was somebody else's work, their ribbons, their world. It was interesting, but it also left him unsettled. His father would probably have been in seventh heaven, lost in the intricacies of muggle life. For Ron, however, it just emphasized how much he appreciated being wizard born.

Only it didn't seem that way for Hermione. She was muggle born, and seemed to like the Muggles and was interested in what they were showing her.

Maybe what she'd really like was a Muggle boyfriend.

No. That was his paranoia talking. Had to be. He knew Hermione liked him, the way he liked her.

But maybe that was only because he was there. Convenient. Maybe she really wanted somebody like Joe. Who was really good looking, with his sun streaked hair and really blue eyes. And he was tall, too. Taller than Ron, who, thanks to a growth spurt this summer was almost six feet tall. And about six inches taller than Harry and Hermione. He could almost look Snape in the eye. Which was pretty strange.

There was a really bad loud-speaker system which crackled and then tinnily announced that the judging of the baked good was now over and the exhibit hall was open to the public. So they followed the crowd in there and looked at an enormous amount of food. More than there was at a Hogwarts feast. And you couldn't touch any of it. Muggles were more sadistic than he had realized.

This time, Snape found them.

"Are you behaving yourself?" Snape asked, and why did he make such a point of looking at Ron when he said it. Well, to be fair, he next stared at Potter with equal suspicion. Anybody else would be asking if you were having fun, but not Snape.

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered for all of them.

Snape turned to the Muggle teenagers. "Would you explain to me," he said, very formally, "what a barbecue and rodeo might be?"

"Well, the rodeo is, you know. A rodeo." Joe seemed to be challenged by the necessity of explaining something that he just assumed everyone knew about. "Bull riding and goat roping and bucking horse contests. You can buy tickets to the rodeo alone, or for both the rodeo and the barbecue. The barbecue is, uh. Dinner. Chips and pickles and a barbecued beef sandwich. And pie for dessert."

Ron noticed that Snape gave a tiny wince at the mention of pie.

"It starts at five," Ashley offered. "Which is pretty soon now."

"My Hogwarts students will be attending these events with me this evening." Could he sound less thrilled? "We have tickets," he sighed.

"Wow! You can watch me!" squealed Ashley. "I do barrel racing!"

"We've never seen that before," Hermione said.

"I'll see you there," Joe said. "I'll hook up with you and explain about all the events," he said, and he was looking at Hermione as he said it.

"Do not curtail your own pleasures on our account," Snape said. You could tell he didn't want to go to this rodeo thing, much less with any more teenagers than he already had to have with him.

A tall woman hollered at Joe. "That's my mom. I'll see you later," he said, and he and his friends waved and went off. This left the Hogwarts students all alone with Snape for the first time in several hours.

"How did you occupy yourself?" Snape asked. So they told him. He endured it for a few minutes and then asked, "And what have you learned?"

Ron couldn't think of anything to say. Neither did Harry, although Hermione offered, "It's Friday, this is the eighty-fourth anniversary of this fair, and tomorrow is supposed to be even hotter."

They all looked at her with some dismay.

At that moment, Marilyn hurried up to them. "There you are! Enjoying the fair?"

"We have nothing like it in England," Snape replied, which Ron realized was not an answer at all, but she beamed happily at him anyway.

"We have tickets to the barbecue and rodeo," Hermione offered.

Marilyn nodded as if she knew. "I came to tell you that my brother Roger offered to take you back to the trailer for the night. He'll meet you at the big tree over by the parking lot. He's helping out with the senior class concession stand, so it will be about twenty minutes after the rodeo is over before he'll make it there."

"Thank you," Snape murmured, with a half bow. It went over really well, Ron noted. Marilyn looked impressed.

"You should go get in line soon, so you can get a good seat for the rodeo," Marilyn said. "I'd join you, but I'm serving the pickles. See you soon," she said, and hurried off.

"This is a strange place," Harry said.

"But the people are friendly," Hermione said. "I need to go over there," she pointed towards the restrooms. There was a short line in front of the doors. Snape gestured in that direction and they all drifted over to join the lines.

Muggles did things in semi-public that wizards did not. Ron opted for the stall. Harry had it after him, and Snape after Harry. At least there was soap. They had to wait for Hermione. She emerged, pushing her hair back and saying, "I'll need a hairbrush. I sure miss magic."

They all sighed at that, united, even Snape, in that yearning for a return to the natural order of things.

They went and joined the line for the barbecue. It moved very slowly. Ron opened his mouth several times to say something, but realized each time that there were Muggles in front and behind, and had to close it, the words unsaid. The barbecue was under some trees, and once the line moved into the shade it was quite a bit better.

Snape handed over their tickets to the big man taking them. The man reminded Ron of Harry's Uncle Vernon, and maybe Harry thought so, too, as he kept on the other side of Snape, and stayed there while the man handed half of each ticket back and pointed out where they were to go. Another line.

Their meal, when they got it, was a sandwich with carrot sticks beside it, and crisps. The drink was ice tea, and there was pie for dessert. Balancing two plates and a drink each, they made it to one of the picnic tables scattered here and there. Some people were eating on blankets spread out on the grass, and some had the foresight to bring their own folding chairs. Children ran to and fro, screaming or laughing.

Dad would love this. The twins, too. Ron almost wished they were here. It was strange here with Professor Snape. No conversation as they ate. Ron was hungry and devoured his quickly. Very much to his surprise, Snape offered his piece of pie to Ron. He mumbled a quick thanks and said to Harry and Hermione, "Want some?" Harry shook his head no and so did Hermione, so Ron dug in. He still had to wait while the others finished their food.

Harry crunched up his last crisp and said, diffidently, "I think...I can feel my magic more, now."

Snape closed his eyes and them opened them again. "Mm." he said. Ron wondered what the hell that meant. He couldn't feel anything himself. "Do not try to use it yet," Snape warned.

Well, of course not. What did he think they were, stupid? There were Muggles all around, after all.

Snape stood up. "Come. The tables are needed," he said, and led the way to the trash cans with his rubbish. They trailed along after him, Ron at the end. Was Snape just mad because Harry was getting a little magic back and he was not? It was frustrating not to be able to ask, but he knew he'd get no answer. Bloody Snape.

Snape lead the way to another line. He proffered his ticket stubs and they were granted entry into the stands. Rather like those at the Quidditch pitch, but vastly less comfortable. It was awfully boring waiting.

And then than damned cowboy showed up. And sat down on the other side of Hermione. He started to point out the parts of the arena. While leaning on her shoulder. Breathing in her ear. Why hadn't Ron thought to have Harry sit on her other side? But Harry was on his right because he knew what Ron thought of Snape and he'd volunteered to sit beside the teacher. Harry was a true friend.

The announcer started speaking. The crowd quieted. It was strange to stand for someone else's national anthem. Jason showed up and sat on Joe's other side. Oh, marvelous. Now there were two of them.

Most of the rodeo interesting to look at, but he kept being distracted, paying more attention to Joe. Who didn't know how lucky he was that Ron was sans magic at the moment. Any brother of George and Fred knew a hundred ways to magically annoy someone. Joe was rapidly becoming someone he wanted to annoy.

He did manage to admire the bucking horses. He really wanted to try that.

"Don't even think it, Weasley," Snape said.

Ron frowned. Harry gave him a sympathetic look.

It was getting dark. More lights came on. An incredible number of annoying insects showed up. Ron slapped at his neck and for the first time in his life he envied his Potions master, whose hair was protecting the back of his neck, and who had shown the sublime good sense of wearing long sleeves and long pants.

Eventually, with a thundering dash of snorting horses it was all over. They did not stand up right away but let the others filter out ahead of them.

Joe leaned over and whispered into Hermione's ear.

"No, I'm afraid I can't," she said, with a glance at Snape.

"Could I take Hermione with me to a kegg ah, a meeting? I'd bring her back before midnight," Joe said to Professor Snape, using a deep and responsible-sounding voice that didn't fool Ron for a minute.

It didn't fool Snape, either. "Miss Granger has had a very full day, Mr. Walker." And when he said anything in that tone of voice, even muggles knew enough to shut up. Joe didn't press the matter, but he whispered something else in Hermione's ear that made her blush.

The way was clear. Snape led them down to the ground level, then politely inquired the way politely! from a woman wearing a sheriff's uniform. Joe vanished at that point. They headed out for the rendezvous tree. The man who waited for them there was as nice as his sister, if quieter. He stuffed them into large car, invited them to buckle up, and soon was driving off into the night while he kept up a wandering monologue about running a concession stand.

They said thank you politely as he pulled up in front of their temporary home, and soon they were inside, with the door shut. All of them gave a sigh of relief. Harry dived for the bathroom first and they all took turns in there.

When Ron came out, he faced a stern Professor Snape, who stood with his arms crossed and said the most outrageous thing that had ever come out of his mouth.

"Potter, you and Weasley will be sleeping in the bedroom to the right. Granger and I will be in the one across the hall."

"What!" Hermione gasped.

"What?" Ron echoed, more loudly.

Harry just made a funny sound.

"You don't think I am stupid enough to allow you to make your own arrangements, do you? There are only two bedrooms. There is no couch in the lounge. Miss Granger will be perfectly safe with me."

Hermione looked shocked.

Ron could not stand the idea of Hermione with...next to...sleeping beside...Snape. It just wasn't right. "My girlfriend is not going to bed with you!"

"Of course not. She will sleep on her own side. There will be no with, Weasley."

"I don't think I should," Hermione said, frowning, but looking down at the ground. There was a bit of red in her cheeks. Ron knew his own were probably flaming.

"If it will set your mind at ease, you have nothing to fear from me. My taste does not run to young girls. To be perfectly clear, females of any age have no appeal for me. You may safely spend the night at my side. In fact, I will insist on it." Snape made this announcement with a perfectly straight face, and not at all as if he were shocking them all. Now Potter's face was red as a beet, too.

"There is no bathtub. I suggest we each take a shower and retire. As we have no toothbrushes or tooth powder I further suggest you each experiment and see if there is enough magic about you to perform a simple mouth cleaning spell. You will report to me your success or lack of it before you take to your bed. Miss Granger, you will take the first shower. Do not be long."

Ron was hardly listening. He helped Harry take their bags into the room they were to share. The screened window was open and there was a box fan in front of it. Normally he would have played with it, turning it on and off he was his father's child but now he hardly gave it a look. He was pacing back and forth in the small room, his hand running through his sweat-rough hair, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"It's not fair. It's stupid. He...Hermione...I can't stand it. She...I.... But she and I...." Ron took a deep breath to keep himself from sputtering and sounding like a complete idiot. "If he touches her I'm killing him."

"He won't. He said he won't"

Ron hissed, "He's Snape!"

"I..." Harry took a really deep breath and looked over at Ron. "I have an idea."

"What?" Ron practically pounced.

"We'll go to bed. Wait until he's asleep. We'll talk to Hermione when he's in the shower and set it up. When he's asleep, she and I will trade places. He won't know it isn't her in the dark. He's going to be really careful to stay away from her and everything. He won't know."

"What if we're caught?"

"He doesn't have his magic right now. I don't think he'll resort to physical violence, so we'd just have to listen to him. And he'd probably lock us in the room or something. We can do this."

"He's not stupid," Ron mumbled, raking his hand through his hair again. He and Hermione. In bed. Together. Suddenly he was so hard he could barely walk and he had to sit down on the edge of the bed. This bed. 'Mione. Him. Naked? Agh. He bit his tongue at the very thought of it. And then he thought about doing it. And Snape coming into the room in the middle of it. Shouting and maybe seeing them...no, not good. Not good. "He might if he came in while we were I don't think...agh!"

"Lock the door," Harry suggested. Then he began again, "I..." He looked rather pale. "I'm hoping...if he does discover the switch. That I can..uh, he might...um...."

"Oh. Oh!" Ron remembered a night two years ago when everybody else in their dormitory room was somewhere else and he and Harry had spent most of a night talking about sex and love and what turned them on. And things. Harry had confessed that he rather thought he liked boys as well as girls.

Ron shook his head like a dog. "You can't mean to oh, that's just wrong, Harry. He's Snape, and a teacher!"

"Well," said Harry in a practical voice, "There's something I want him to teach me. I've never had never done anything. With anybody. And I want to."

"I'm...me, too. But it's different with us. We're I'm thinking about marrying her."

"I thought so," Harry nodded.

"But Snape...." Ron shook his head again. "He's "

"Not the marrying kind?" Harry joked. "I know that."

"But your first. Your first should be special," Ron protested. "Snape might -- he might -- well, I just can't imagine him being. Careful. He might. Hurt you."

"Then I scream and you come save me." Harry looked up into Ron's eyes. "If there's no magic, then he can't keep you out."

"Harry, it's insane. Not with Snape."

"Ron, I don't know how to tell you this. But have you looked at him today? Really looked?"

"At what?" Ron asked, confused.

"Like, his legs? His neck? His chest? His arse?" Harry's eyes were half closed in memory. "I've been going crazy today. Looking at him. Couldn't help looking at him. I've never seen him without his robes. In Muggle clothing."

"You think he looks looks hot?" Ron said. Snape?

"Oh, yeah." Now Harry had a goofy look on his face.

"I can't see it myself."

"I'm so glad about that. Who needs competition who looks like you?"

"Me?"

"Tall, good-looking. Shoulders. You've got hair on your chest and everything. Then look at me," Harry said. "I'll probably never grow taller. Not much anyway. I can't seem to put on much muscle, either. No exactly every man's dream, even if they do like guys."

"You must be pretty cute. The girls all think so," Ron pointed out.

"Would they think so if I didn't have this scar on my forehead? I'm not cute, really. That Ashley didn't even look my way once today. It's the glasses, maybe. But she looked at you once or twice. Looked at your arse, too."

"She didn't!"

"Saw it with my own eyes."

"No..."

"Yes. Anyway, we'll talk to Hermione when Snape's in the shower and we'll get it all set up."

"What if she won't do it?"

"Then she won't. But she'll know you want to. That's important. You can talk to her. And even if you don't have time now, you'll have time together when we get back."

"I'm...kind of afraid. What if I can't. Can't do it. You know?"

"You have an excuse. Just say you got too excited, and you want to do it later when it's better and just...touch her. Kiss her, and...and...."

"It's the and and and that has me worried."

"Everybody's worried at their first time, aren't they?"

"Are you?" Ron asked.

"At least you don't have to worry about her wanting to strangle you just for mentioning it."

"Harry, there's got to be somebody better than Snape. There's Paul. In Hufflepuff. I've thought Colin might want you, too."

"Paul's two years younger than me. And you know how Colin acts around me. Too respectful. He might...There's a risk for him. With him. He'd want to...to keep me. Don't you see? Snape isn't going to go all strange on me afterwards."

"Weasley!" came Snape's shout.

"Must be my turn for the shower," Ron said, slowly going to the door. "Harry are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Harry said.

Harry

Harry wasn't sure. In fact, his intestines were turning into snakes and tying themselves in knots. Slowly. But there was also this ball of fiery excitement burning inside his chest. He still could not believe that Snape had said it. He liked men. He'd said it.

For the last year or so, Harry had been aware that he was attracted to the potions teacher. He wasn't entirely sure if it were the looks of the man, or the power in him, or intelligence demonstrated by the knowledge that he had cleverly fooled the death eaters for so long. Or a combination of it all. But it was strong.

There were others that made Harry's breath speed up, made him hard. A professional Quidditch player. Okay, two or three. Or four. And that auror who had been visiting Dumbledore last spring. Men and women. But there was something about Snape. Knowing him, just a little. Not enough. Seeing him almost daily. Harry had wanted Snape for at least a year, had let that want turn into late night fantasies. Just fantasy. It could be nothing else but fantasy to imagine Severus Snape doing anything like unbending enough to be normally civil. Much less....

Never imagined that Severus Snape liked men, too.

Of course, he might not like young men or maybe he liked them too much? Was that why he favored Malfoy, and the other Slytherins?

No. No, it wasn't that, he was sure of it. Because of the way Slytherin boys behaved. Nothing sexual in the way they reacted. Good. Harry didn't want to be the tail end of a very long line. He knew what he really wanted in life. A lover, a home. Very domestic. Small dreams, really. He wasn't going to get it from Snape. The best he could hope for is some hands-on instruction. Some fuel for future fantasies.

He took a deep breath and stood up. He felt hot and sticky and yearned for his turn at the shower. Restless, he went out of the room. Hermione was explaining to Snape how to use a finger and salt as a temporary toothbrush. Yeah, Hermione would have to know things like that, with her parents being dentists.

"Potter!" Snape lifted his voice as Ron came out of the shower, drying his red hair, wearing only his trousers. Harry sighed again, vaguely longing to have broad shoulders like that, and to be that tall. Have hair that lay down flat.

Have somebody who loved him. Wanted him. Hermione was looking sideways out of her eyes at Ron, plainly appreciating every revealed inch. Harry collected his towel and closed the bathroom door. It was an ugly little shower stall. He stripped and stepped in. Harry closed his eyes and ducked into the shower spray.

There was not much hot water left. Better not use it all or Snape would kill him. He had long experience in taking a fast shower, knew what to wash first just in case. He scrubbed hard and emerged feeling much better. He stared at himself in the mirror. The red patches on his neck and arms where he's burned a little in the sun. Nose, too. He stopped and rummaged through the drawer and the cabinet, finding a small bottle of hand lotion. Maybe it would stop the itchy sort of feeling. He smeared some on his neck, and it did feel better, so he rubbed it on his nose and arms as well.

"Potter! Have you taken root?" Snape shouted.

"One moment, sir!" he shouted. Pulled on his pants and trousers again, and like Ron, emerged without his shirt. Snape did not even look at him as he shoved by. Harry thought perhaps he should mention that the hot water was almost gone, but the door was shut quite firmly behind Snape and Harry decided there was nothing he could do about it anyway. He got his wand and tried to do the mouth cleaning spell. Rather to his surprise, it seemed to work. But he used Hermione's salt idea, too. Just in case.

He could tell that Ron had told Hermione their plan. She was shouting at him in a whisper. He could hear bits of it. "...does Harry think he's...both insane...what if he...of course, I'd rather be with you, but have you..."

"Make sure you turn on the fan," Harry said, coming over. The evening had not cooled off much, even though the sun had been down more than an hour. "If he wakes up and asks where you're going, just say the bathroom. Then knock lightly on our door and I'll come out and switch with you."

"Harry, it's nice of you to do this but you are just not thinking this all the way through." Hermione said it with a nervous look at the bathroom door.

"Are you frightened?" Harry asked, opening the cupboard and finding a glass. He filled it with water from the faucet, took a drink and then winced. The water here was not very good. Or perhaps he was just used to the water at home. This tasted like minerals.

"What?" She gave a sort of hitching laugh.

"You don't have to do anything with Ron, you know." Harry reminded her.

"Harry!" Ron was plainly embarrassed.

"Harry, that's not the problem. I'm thinking of you. In with Snape. All night."

"Yes? Me, too," Harry admitted. And the corner of his lips turned up.

"Snape's in trouble," Ron predicted. He knew that expression.

"Wait, he's coming out," Hermione hissed. They all drew apart, and they could not help it, they all watched Snape emerge from the bathroom. He did not mention the lack of hot water. It was warm enough so that the cool water had probably felt good. Snape was wearing trousers and his t-shirt, but not the silk shirt he had worn over it. The tiny peaks of his nipples could be seen tenting the cloth of the shirt. Barefoot. Long slim feet. His wet hair pulled back emphasized his cheekbones. And his nose. Harry struggled to breathe.

"What are you staring at?" Snape demanded.

"I think I got the spell to work," Harry said. "But not entirely."

"Anyone else?" Snape asked, diverted.

"No," Hermione and Ron chorused.

"Ah. When you wake up in the morning, each of you try a minor spell. Something quite easy."

"Yes, sir."

"Go to bed now. It's been a long day and it appears we are to have another such tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

Snape rolled his eyes. Harry and Ron went to their room. They turned on the fan in the window, turned out the light and stretched out on the bed, each wearing only their underpants. It was too hot for anything else.

"We'll have to wait a long time," Ron said with a sigh.

"Yeah."

"The light is still on out there."

"Go look."

Ron got out of bed, tip-toed over to the door and slid it open a half-inch. He came back and reported, "He's sitting there reading an old magazine with a funny look on his face. Hermione isn't there. I guess he sent her to bed."

"He doesn't want to go to bed at the same time as she does. Too awkward. So we have to wait until the light goes out. Then at least a half hour after that."

Ron gave a little moan. "It could be hours!"

"Yeah. Try to go to sleep for awhile, if you want."

"How can anyone sleep in this heat?" Ron sighed. "You know, if we tilted that fan a little, it would blow directly on us."

"Brilliant." They got up, turned on the light, and then moved the fan around until it was more to their liking. Lights out again. Waiting.

"It's noisy outside. What's that sound?" Ron shifted over onto his side.

"Insects. I think."

"This place is strange."

Harry said, "I know. Does it make you feel sort of funny, in your center? Not being able to feel the magic?"

"Like being hungry. Empty."

"Like that," Harry agreed. "Who do you think will come get us? I'd like to meet some American wizards and witches."

"I've met some. Dad brings them home from work sometimes. They go all gaga over the house. Candles and the floo and things. They just don't have much of a floo network, Dad says."

"There goes the light," Harry whispered.

"Are you sure you want to crawl into bed with Snape?" Ron asked again.

"I'm going to strangle you if you ask again. Poor Hermione will come creeping in here and I'll have to say, 'Sorry, luv, I had to do it.' She'll understand completely."

"I'll haunt you."

"You'll haunt Kansas."

Ron hit him with his pillow. Harry stifled a giggle and said, "Don't! You'll bring him in on us!"

"Right. Sorry!"

It was harder to wait without talking. The minutes just crawled past.

There was a tiny sound at the door and it opened. Harry got up. Hermione touched him on the shoulder as she slipped by. "Good luck," she said softly.

"Thanks. You, too. Lock the door. Good night," he said, and then felt a little stupid about it. Nothing they were doing here was about sleep. He took his glasses along, but left them on the hall table, along with his wand. Silently, on bare feet, he edged into the room. The fan was whirring in the window. His eyes were used to the dark and it wasn't hard to move across the room. Ever so carefully he eased onto the bed and pulled the sheet up to his shoulders. He lay with his back to Snape. The pillow was hard and flat. It reminded him of the one he had at the Dursleys. He listened. He didn't hear anything, in here or from the other room. Good. The fan was too loud to let him hear how Snape was breathing. He hadn't moved. Slowly Harry started to relax. Started to enjoy the feeling of being here, of having a man only a few feet away. He could smell him, just a little, body warmth and a hint of something he had no name for. He took a deeper breath. He thought about turning over so he could watched the man sleep.

"Potter, what in hell do you think you are doing?"

Snape had said it in a normal voice, so that it seemed terrifyingly loud to Harry and he gave a sort of spasmy jerk and clutched the bed sheet.

"Potter?" Snape was impatient. That was never good.

"Humm?" he said, mostly because he couldn't quite get his throat clear enough for words.

"It's not amusing. Go back to your bed and tell Granger to return. Now."

"I can't."

"What?" Amazing how knife-like that tone was. What menace could be inserted into one little word.

"If Hermione is going to be in a man's bed, it should be Ron's."

"Spare me your moralizing."

"It's not. Just the truth. I think he's proposing to her--right now. It wouldn't be right to interrupt them."

"You are all fools. Children and fools. Proposing. He's not old enough to propose. He has a year of schooling left and few prospects. He's not in a position to propose wiping his arse, much less marriage."

"Besides," Harry got up enough courage to turn in the bed. He could see the vague shadow that was Snape, up on one elbow, looming over him. "There's something else."

"Something else," Snape mocked. "And what would that be, Mr. Potter?"

"I want to be here. And she doesn't."

That silenced him for a moment. What a strange feeling, trumping Snape, for once. Even if it was only going to last for a few seconds.

The voice was silky and low. "Would you care to explain that, Mr. Potter?" Too calm. Very controlled.

Harry struggled to swallow, his throat suddenly very dry. "You like men."

"And?"

"I do, too."

"All other considerations aside -- and they are without number you are not a man. You are a boy."

"I'm eighteen. On Monday."

"Congratulations. Why you might possibly think.... "

He was never going to win a battle with Snape if he chose words as the weapons. Harry grabbed his courage with both hands and acted. He rolled over until he came up against Snape, threw his arms around him and pulled the still-speaking lips down against his.

Um.

Oh. Oh, that was nice. Even if Snape was too stunned to respond. Harry took a deep breath and closed his mouth on Snape's again. His hands moved restlessly, clutching at Snape's wide shoulders. Kissed, changed the position of his mouth, kissed again, the kisses becoming wet and somehow more sexy the messier it got.

At last. Snape stopped resisting. He lowered his body onto Harry's and took control of the kiss, thrusting his tongue in. His hands were busy, pulling down Harry's underwear, then straddling Harry while he pulled off his own shirt and tossing it aside. He was wearing trousers to bed for Hermione's peace of mind no doubt and Harry's fingers scrabbled at the buttons and zipper before Snape pushed him away impatiently and dealt with it himself. The trousers hit the floor. Harry yelped softly as the entirely naked body covered his. The hair on Snape's...no... Severus. Severus's chest and thighs were rough against his own, and the hardness which pressed into his stomach made him cry out. Harry's arms wrapped round to hold him close, his head went back as Severus left his lips to suck and lick at his throat, and mouth the skin there. Harry's nails left furrows in Severus's back as he responded, kicking out with his legs as his whole body reacted. Brief attention to his nipples, his belly, and then the dark head was at groin, mouth inhaling him and Harry's hands were clenched in the black hair, tearing it from the cord that had held it confined. The loose locks slithered over Harry's thighs and groin, each touch making him shiver again.

Harry let out a moan, moaned again and then cried out because one long finger had pierced him from beneath and was moving into him, counterpoint to the wicked mouth which was swallowing him again and again and again. He would have screamed, but a hard hand muffled the sound. Harry erupted into the hot mouth, which stilled and pulled back until just the head was held, and they were both frozen in place as Harry spilled more and more onto the hot tongue.

Severus Snape sat back on his heels, and was looking down at Harry. Harry watched as Snape's hand came up to his mouth and he spat into his hand. The hand came down and slathered the spit and seed over Snape's very large erection. Then with the other hand he shoved Harry further onto his back, leaned forward and centered himself. He sheathed himself with one short hard thrust, causing Harry to cry out again. Hands settled on his hips and jerked him further onto the cock. So big. And it did hurt, it did, and Harry was clawing at him. The pain never did vanish. But it turned into something else, some odd hybrid of pain and pleasure. The in and out of it made him struggle, wanting to get away, wanting more. His legs wrapped around the narrow hips as some part of him made a decision. He tried for more of it, more, deeper, harder, one hand flailing, then closing on Snape's neck and jerking him down into an awkward kiss.

Then Snape thrust one last time, deep inside, and froze. Panting hard in Harry's ear, he gave another tiny jerk and then collapsed. The weight was too much for Harry and he rolled to his side, but that pulled them free of each other. Snape fell over onto his back. They breathed in unison for a long time.

"I suppose," Snape said in a curiously flat voice, "that was your first time?"

"Never even kissed a man before," Harry confessed.

Snape brought his hand up to his face and groaned.

"Don't. That was the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me in my life."

"Oh, shut up," Snape told him.

Harry gave a smothered giggle.

"Did I hurt you?" Snape asked.

"I don't think so."

"You'll know well enough in an hour or two." His tone said he was the voice of experience and Harry would do well to listen to it.

"It will be worth it." Harry was certain of it.

"If I didn't know that magic was suppressed here, I should think I was under a spell," Snape said, almost to himself.

"I think you've wanted me all along," Harry said, pleased with the idea.

The very thought made Snape groan again

"I've...wanted you." Harry made the confession just a little hesitantly. He wasn't sure he could say the truth that the Potions master featured in a good many fantasies he'd had over the past year.

"Fine. You've had me."

Harry lifted his head. "Other way around, I think."

That made Snape make a pained sound that was, at least, not a groan.

"You can show me that next time," Harry said happily.

"No, I won't. I should not have done it this time. There was no excuse for it."

"If you need an excuse, it's almost my birthday. It's the best birthday present I ever had."

Snape gave a snort.

"It's true, that. I never even had a real birthday present until I came to Hogwarts."

"Mr. Potter, chatting after sex is bad form. You're supposed to turn over and go to sleep. I suggest you do so."

"I don't feel like going to sleep," Harry admitted. What he really wanted to do was kiss some more. But if you were supposed to sleep, then he supposed he could. He wiggled closer.

"In this weather? Absolutely not. I refuse to sleep glued to your skin."

"Here, then." Harry pulled up the sheet, made sure a layer of cotton was between them and then he once again wiggled closer. And closer. Until he was right up against Severus Snape's side. And then he fell asleep.

Snape

I must be out of my mind, Snape thought. It was too damn early. He was in Kansas. And the Boy Who Lived was currently buried about eight inches deep in his arse.

It felt entirely too good.

It had been too long. That was all. It was his own fault. He'd not had a lover for years. The abstinence had been bad for him, it had obviously left him vulnerable.

Or maybe whatever here sapped the magic from a wizard also sucked out his good sense. When Potter had woken him up at dawn and whispered what he wanted in Snape's ear, it had seemed like a rather good idea. He'd remembered, entirely too late, that he had not intended to be intimate with Potter again. It was feeding stray cats. If you did it even once or twice, they moved in and assumed they were yours. Or you were theirs. It was all the same, really.

It was probably the look in Potter's eyes. Impressed. Pleased. Wanting. Happy.

Snape sighed and shifted until the angle was better. The young man did have a fair amount of natural talent at this. Not to mention laudable enthusiasm. And stamina.

There. He was done.

Well. Who would have suspected Potter of having manners? Satisfied himself, he was already making sure that his partner was not left unfulfilled. Enthusiasm counted for a great deal at times. Snape shifted so that he could curve his palm around the back of that tousled black hair and guide that eager mouth. Oh. Lovely.

He gave a small sound of warning, but it was ignored. His offering admittedly less than generous after last night's excesses was swallowed down.

"Sev'rus," the boy sighed as his mouth slid free.

"Absolutely not."

The head came up, the green eyes wide with surprise and questions.

"Nothing, other than Professor Snape. Ever."

"But..."

"Don't be stupid. It's a dangerous habit to get into. I'll not have my hard work wasted because you can't keep your mouth shut."

Potter blinked. "Here? In Kansas?"

"If it isn't yet clear. Here. There. Kansas. Hogsmeade. Hogwarts. London. I expect you to play your role, Potter, as I must play mine."

"But...last night..." he faltered.

Last night. Yes. And this morning. "Last night, you came into my bed, Potter. And I am not immune to temptation. But even you must see how dangerous it would be to make a habit of it. Voldemort has his own ways of finding out secrets. And a very nasty way of taking advantage of other people's stupidity."

"But, that's " the words were almost wailed, but cut off as Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder and gave him a hard shake.

"Not fair? Of course not. Come see me after you eliminate Voldemort and most of the Death Eaters, and I might be able to accommodate you again. Meanwhile, we will play out our little games of insult and malice, as always. Is that clear?"

"S...Professor!"

"Much better."

"I think you're wrong."

Snape lifted an eyebrow and gave Potter a scornful, yet inquiring look.

Potter said, "Not about Voldemort. I suppose you're right about that. But how can he be here? No one magical would be here if they had a choice, and being without magic would make him too vulnerable. While we're in Kansas, the rules are different. We'll be here tonight, too. And tomorrow night. I want both of them. Three nights in Kansas. They're mine," he insisted.

Because he wanted it almost as much as Harry did, he shook his head hard in denial.

Harry, typically, ignored it. "I wasn't thinking," Harry said, almost to himself. "We should take advantage of our time here." Potter was looking as serious as a naked young man could look. He ignored the second scornful look directed at him and said, "I should be using the time to talk to you. Ask some questions I've been wondering about. Learning stuff only you can teach me. I don't mean sex," Potter added, blushing. "I mean about Voldemort and the Death Eaters. There's things only you could know. Things I should know if I'm going to face him."

"You'll be told when it is time for you to know." Snape said.

"Bullshit."

Snape gave him a sharp look.

"Learned that yesterday. Nice word, isn't it?" Harry smirked for a moment and Snape wondered what other new additions to his vocabulary would be gracing this conversation. "I don't know what plans Dumbledore and the others have for the fight against Voldemort. I have the vague idea that after school I'll be getting more training, somehow, and I'll be taken into the loop then. Meanwhile, they assume I'm still a child and they won't tell me anything."

That did seem to be Dumbledore's plan. Snape didn't think much of it either. But what he said was, "You are a child. You've acted like a child. You've taken risks and you've wasted your opportunities."

"Of course I did. I didn't even know they were opportunities. They didn't tell me anything. It took me too long to figure everything out on my own. I mean it when I say they didn't tell me anything. Not even the difference between wizards schools and Muggle ones. Not why I had to stay with the Dursleys, why I had to be hurt, why I...."

"Had to be hurt?" Snape interrupted.

"I finally figured out that having me with the Dursleys meant I would have no real ties to the Muggle world, while being isolated from the wizarding world. That worked well enough, I can't stand the Dursleys or the sort of life they lead. And maybe they put me there with Dudley so I'd learn how to defend myself against a bigger, cheating bully. Which I partly did. But I also learned to ignore him when I couldn't do anything about him, and just patch myself up and go on, and I've decided that was bad, because forming the habit of ignoring a stupid cruel Muggle is one thing and ignoring Voldemort is another."

"Ah." Snape said, considering that.

"My cousin made it his life's work to make me miserable. They all did. Great. So I know what it feels like to battle impossible odds." He was joking, but he would not meet Snape's eyes. He was looking at the ugly wallpaper, but obviously seeing something else. "Later I even figured out something about prejudice. I wasn't placed with a wizard family because it was important that none of them thought they could gain any type of power from fostering me. And because there might be a danger to anyone fostering me. But hey. Muggles. It's quite all right if you take the risk with them. It's not the same if they're killed." He lifted his head. "That's when I figured out that even Dumbledore makes mistakes. Now I think I've found another mistake he's making. I don't think I should just sit back and wait," he said. "I have to do something."

"My god, the boy has a plan." Classic Snape sarcasm. He noted that Potter hardly seemed to

note it.

"No. The man realizes he needs a plan. And a counter plan and a back up plan. And he knows a very clever wizard who can help him with his plans. He realizes that this is the perfect time to find out what he needs to know."

"You're rather frightening this way," Snape said. The words didn't mean much, he was buying time to think. It rather irritated him that there was a kernel of truth in what Potter said. He got out of bed and pulled on his trousers, which had spent the night on the floor. He noted again that the carpet was hideous. There was no clock in here. He looked out the window. Dawn was now an hour past. He left and went to the bathroom without another word. He took a fast shower and went back to the room. Harry was still sitting on the bed. Naked. Making Snape's stomach clench at the sight.

"Wash and get dressed."

Potter obediently pulled on his jeans and went out. Snape could hear voices behind the other bedroom door. Granger and Weasley were up. This should be amusing. He dressed in fresh clothing and then went to the kitchen. He was investigating the tins of food in the cupboard when the two students slunk in.

"Ah. Granger. How do Muggles get these open?" he asked, ignoring their cautious bearing and hesitant glances. There was a line of red marks on Weasley's neck, he noticed. Ah, Granger. Unexpected depths within you, aren't there?

The bathroom door opened. Everyone's head turned that way. Harry came out, wearing pants, still rubbing his torso dry with a towel. Unfortunately, there were red marks on Harry's skin as well. A good many of them, actually. Granger and Weasley's heads swivelled to stare at Snape and their eyes became as big as saucers.

He stared them down. Harry turned bright red and dived for the door to the room where Ron and Hermione had spent the night. His clothes were in there, Snape remembered.

Granger showed him how to operate the awkward muggle device which opened the tins. They breakfasted on canned peaches, pears and pineapples. Granger and Weasley continued to turn red whenever he caught their gaze.

"So, are you two....uh," Harry tried to ask.

"Engaged," Ron said, with a pleased glance at Hermione, who met it and smiled back.

"How about you two?" he asked, although you could tell he was uncertain about bringing up the subject.

"Not even friends," Snape told him.

Harry nodded.

"Right." Ron Weasley had a fair amount of sarcasm of his own to command.

"True. He's promised to give me a short education. On the condition we never speak of it. That includes you, too," Harry said, and his face begged his friends to go along with it. "This is a secret."

They each nodded at Harry and then each gave Snape a frowning, calculating look that said they would do as their friend asked but they rather thought Snape was up to something.

He sneered at them. They looked away. Of course. It was that sort of look and he had perfected it after years of practice.

There was the sound of gravel crunching outside and a familiar truck pulled up. Marilyn hopped out. The woman was damnably cheerful, considering the hour of the morning. She came up the rickety steps and knocked on the door. "Hey there," she said, and walked in. "You have a good night?"

"Warmer than we are used to, madam, but peaceful," Snape said. "I believe we were quite exhausted."

"You're all ready for another exciting day?" she asked, grinning at him as if she knew his secret opinion of it all. "I came by to see if there was anything you need, since I'm on my way to town."

"Oh." Granger turned a bit red. "There is something I need. Could I go along with you?" she asked anxiously.

"No problem, hon. It'll take about an hour. I'll get you back long before the Clark's show up to take you to the watermelon feed at the high school. Mr. Clark teaches there and he wants to show you the school. It might be interesting to you, different than your own, anyway. It's a proper meal, you know, not just the watermelon. Hamburgers and hot dogs. Don't worry about money for that, Bill Clark's in charge of it and he's got it covered. Then afterwards, there's a tug of war, teachers against the students. You can join it if you want, it's always a lot of fun. Don't worry about the mud, they hose you down afterwards."

Did the woman never take a breath?

"Tonight there's the choice of a ham and bean dinner at the Methodist church or a Rocky Mountain Oyster fry at the park. Don't worry, they have chicken there, too. And after that, there's the carnival and guess what? The radio station is giving away tickets and I got you a hundred of them! Bob Harkness won them by answering the daily trivia question, but lordy, he's 78, he didn't want them. So he gave them to you." She smiled and produced a roll of blue tickets, which she handed over proudly.

"Thank you," Snape said, wondering exactly what they were for.

"I know you probably don't want to ride the rides, but the kids even ones as old as yours like it. Then I have one of the grey ladies at the hospital, Irma Evans, says she can give you a ride home. She'll be out there late with her boys, until eleven. They're working barn security this year. So it's no problem for her."

"Thank you." It seemed a safe thing to say.

"Well, let's get this show on the road. Come on, hon. We'll bring you back donuts," she said over her shoulder as she headed out the door.

"Wait. May I come with you, too?" Ron asked, with a nervous look at Snape.

"Granger," Snape said, and pulled the wallet out of his back pocket. He opened it and offered the contents to her, allowing her to choose which denominations she might need. She pulled out a twenty, looked at it uncertainly, and then took a ten as well.

"Thank you, Professor," she said, and hurried out, Ron behind her.

That left him alone with Potter. Hiding his apprehension, Snape looked over at him.

"Tell me about Voldemort," Potter said, sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs.

Ah. Well. That he could do. He sat down as well. "What do you want to know?"

Hermione

"Thank you for the ride. I really needed something, and I just couldn't say it in front of Professor Snape," Hermione said to Marilyn the truck began moving.

"What?" Ron asked. Hermione was sitting in the middle, and Ron had the window. They were roaring down the dirt road, a plume of dust billowing up behind them. It was mid-morning, but already quite hot. Ron's leg was touching her own. She was very aware of it.

"Girl things," she said, blushing slightly.

"Girl things?" he prompted.

"Well, I don't even know what they're called over here. Girl things. Once a month girl things which I am going to need tomorrow or the next day. Those sorts of girl things."

"Oh," said Ron, turning a shade of red that definitely did not go with his hair. "I guess you can't...." he stopped, remembering the nice muggle lady who was driving.

"Quite. And there are some other things I need, too. I didn't mean to embarrass you," she said, looking first at Ron and then at Marilyn.

"Honey, you can't embarrass me," Marilyn said. "Not at my age."

"Embarrass me all you want to. I'd better get used to it." Ron said, with a grin that said no matter what his tone, he was pleased about it.

Hermione felt an explanation was due and said to Marilyn, "Ron and I got engaged last night."

Marilyn said, "Congratulations. You're a little young," she added cautiously.

"Eighteen now. We won't get married until we're done with the school year. Or perhaps even a lyear after that," Hermione explained.

"Mom's going to be happy. She's been kinda wondering what's gone wrong," Ron explained. "I'm the sixth of seven children, and none of the others have gotten married yet."

"I never thought of that," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I wonder why?"

"I don't know. Except about the twins. Who'd have them? But Fred had a great plan, once. He wanted us all to get married and have children right away. His plan called for us all to have the kids about the same time. Figured a year with five or six Weasley's in it at once would be too much for even Professor Snape. And twins run in the family so it could be ten at once!" Then he smiled. "You know, with you for a mother they're going to be smart, too He'll never have a chance." He gave an evil little laugh. Then his eyes went wide. He made a sort of yelping, smothered sound.

"It just hit him that being married means kids and things," Hermione explained to the driver. "Don't worry, you can get used to the idea gradually," she said to Ron. "I'm not having kids until after university," she said firmly. And maybe she'd wait until You Know Who was dead. She'd heard women saying that they were waiting, that they didn't want to bring children into a world that might be ruled by Voldemort. That sounded like a good plan.

"Not to change the subject, but do you want to go to Main Street or WallyWorld?" Marilyn asked. She had to explain about it, and that changed the subject, which Hermione appreciated.

Shopping itself was an experience. She was rather glad Marilyn went to 'pick up a few things' and left them to it. Ron spent most of the time saying, 'I say, look at that!' and 'I must tell my father about that!' while she concentrated not only on finding what she needed to buy but keeping track of what each item cost using the odd Muggle-American money.

She ended up with her 'necessities', and also a pack of condoms, four spiral notebooks and a package of cheap pens. She got a small pack of paper plates she wasn't going to end up washing dishes endlessly for that lot -- toothpaste and four extremely cheap toothbrushes. She found a very inexpensive hairbrush and a box of tea.

There wasn't a lot of money left, but she bought the box of donuts at the donut shop. She had to haul Ron out of there by his hand, which made Marilyn laugh. The heat was rising again. Marilyn said it was going to be a scorcher. Hermione remembered they still had the bottle of sun screen and vowed to make sure they were all well covered before they went out.

After thanking Marilyn effusively, she and Ron went inside as the truck thundered away again. She talked loudly as they walked up the steps. Ron looked at her funny.

She'd rather worried about what she'd find. Not that she could imagine Professor Snape or Harry Potter doing things like that in public, but they'd actually done that. Something like the 'that' which she and Ron had done last night. And it had been amazing. Not at all what she had imagined. Better in some ways and not as good in others, but definitely the sort of thing that wanted doing again.

But it had to be different. For them. For Harry. She worried about it. About Harry getting hurt. About anyone putting themselves into Snape's power. Was he nice in bed? Or did he bring that edge of cruelty there as well? It was hard to imagine him sweet. Loving. Gentle.

Strangely enough, she could see him as careful and precise. Controlled and powerful. He wasn't careless and he never showed skills to his students that he had not mastered utterly.

She didn't know if she should feel sorry for Harry. Or envy him. Ron was sweet, and he'd been wonderful last night, but he'd known just as much about it as she had. They had lost their innocence together and she counted it well lost. But she knew quite well such things would be quite different with an experienced partner.

Her face was flushed as she opened the door. Harry and Professor Snape were sitting at the table as if they had not moved the entire time they had been gone. She felt a little relief, mixed with the embarrassing knowledge that if it had been Ron and she alone, they would have been back in bed in an instant.

They all sat down at the table as she poured out most of her purchases. She handed everyone a notebook and a pen. "For your own notes. But also," she said, "we must write down what people have done for us, and their names, and the addresses if we can find them out. At the very least, I intend on writing a great many thank-you notes when we are home." She had expected some resistence but found almost none. Harry, in fact, grabbed the paper almost eagerly, which she found quite strange. Harry was showing the professor how the pens worked. Snape sneered at the non-quill, but what else could be expected. He tried it out and then clipped it onto the spiral notebook as he saw the others do.

She passed out toothbrushes next, which were met with equal enthusiasm. She did not have the nerve to share out the condoms and decided to have Ron offer half of them to Harry privately. Were they even needed? Would they think her very interfering for offering them?

She opened the box of donuts. The assault was instantaneous and not one donut survived.

Ron

Ron sat in the back of the ancient "station wagon" and why did they call it that? with Hermione on one side and Harry on the other. Professor Snape sat up front with Mr. Clark. Mr. Clark was driving everyone to the high school.

Mr. Clark was driving Professor Snape insane.

Watching Snape bite back his usual retorts and acid-laced comments was funny. Snape had reached for his wand several times, his fingers closing over the wood and the fingertips turning white from the pressure. Mr. Clark was not only muggle through and through, but he was one of these people who chattered along, asking questions but not waiting for the answer, and generally finding his own opinion and his own voice fascinating. He was also a bit of a gossip. They already knew three of the high school girls were pregnant--so much better than last year, with seven. All so unfortunate but what were they thinking?

The English visitors had no idea and did not bother to venture an opinion, as such a thing would have been bowled over and left gasping in the dust. Mr. Clark was really lucky they were conserving the magic. Although one little silencing spell surely they could try one little silencing spell?

Apparently not.

Mr. Clark got onto the subject of politics. At least this made no sense at all and could be more easily ignored. Ron turned his attention to Hermione. She leaned towards him and whispered, "Ask Harry if he needs condoms."

Ron blinked, startled, but turned to Harry and asked the questions softly. He sure didn't want anyone in the front to hear.

Harry blinked as well and whispered back, "Why would I?"

Ron turned to Hermione, his own eyes echoing the question.

She leaned across Ron to talk to him directly. "I know wizards don't normally need it for disease protection. The spells help with that. But right now we can't do them. Only it should be okay if both of you have been doing your health regimes."

Ron was of the opinion that Snape had never looked as if he knew the meaning of health regime. Really amazing, when you thought about it, that Snape wasn't dead.

"But why...?" Harry was still looking confused.

Hermione blushed. "I rather thought that, well, I heard it made certain things easier."

"Oh." Harry said.

"Oh. Oh!" Ron said.

Then Harry said, "I don't think we have to worry about it. Did well enough without it."

Everyone blushed. Snape looked back at them suspiciously.

"Better keep them for yourself," Harry whispered. "Unless you've already picked out names for your firstborn?"

Hermione and Ron both hit him.

"Gryffindors!" Snape said sharply.

It was summer but they had been on an officially sanctioned school trip. House points were in jeopardy. Snape was actually warning them, instead of just taking the points! All three of them were a little rattled by that and exchanged wide-eyed glances.

"Our apologies, Professor Snape," Hermione said formally.

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

"My god, I want to move to England," Mr. Clark said with a sigh. Which really didn't make much sense to the visitors. They pulled into the car park. "Here we are," Mr. Clark said. "Just let me check on the Juniors and then I'll give you a quick tour of the school." He led the way around the building. Under a cluster of battered looking elm trees a dozen teenagers and several adults were setting up tables. Several barbeque grills were clustered under the largest tree and coals were already started.

"Looks good," Clark said, and waved to the man poking the coals in the largest grill. "Pat! Keep an eye on this zoo for me."

"Will do, Bill," Pat said, with a wave of his barbeque fork.

They trailed along behind Mr. Clark, who opened the school door with a key and ushered them into the dim interior. It smelled of cleaners and polish. The long wide hallways had windows on one side and lockers on the other. The grey lockers were very strange

"What are these for?" Ron asked.

"Lockers? Students keep their books and other belongings in them between classes," Mr. Clark said, and it was clear he found the fact that Ron didn't know about lockers delightful. No doubt he was going to be telling everyone about it for days. "We have locker checks every month," the man said to Snape, in what he probably thought was a private aside. "You can't imagine what we find."

Snape looked slightly amused.

"School was built in 1962, after the roof of the old one suffered some snow damage. Had two new wings added in '82 and a stadium. We're a big football town here." Mr. Clark was going on with the tour.

Ron looked at Harry. Harry shrugged. Hermione opened her mouth to explain, but then decided it was hardly worth it.

"Offices here. We have three counselors, a vice principal, a principal and an athletic director. Secretaries, of course. Then down here is the Math classrooms, and across the way, Language Arts." He opened one door so they could see the classroom.

"Windows. Look at all the windows," Hermione said, amazed.

"But the rooms look very like each other," Ron added. Until now, he had not realized that no two rooms at Hogwarts were alike, and more, they seldom stayed as they were from day to day. "It must be very confusing."

"All numbered," Mr. Clark said proudly. "It looks different during the school year. The teachers have stuff on the bulletin boards and walls." He walked them down a little further. "Here's the chemistry classroom," he said, throwing open a door proudly. "Marilyn told us you taught Chemistry." he said to Snape.

"Amazing," Snape said. It was hard to tell the emotion behind the word.

"I like these tabletops," Hermione said, smoothing her hand along the hard surface.

"Do you really think it would hold up to Longbottom's abuse?" Snape asked, his voice tinged with his cold amusement.

"Well, no. But the light is nice," she added.

"Wouldn't daylight affect the p...experiments?" Potter said, looking dubiously at the incredible amount of sunshine coming in despite the blinds on each of the six big windows.

"Excellent observation, Potter. There's hope for you yet."

Snape said something nice. To Harry Potter. They all three stared at him.

"Daylight?" Mr. Clark asked.

"Our school is in an old castle," Ron explained. "Some of the classrooms are in the dungeons."

"Dungeons," Mr. Clark sighed. "There have been times I've dreamed of dungeons." He shook his head, and in something of a non-sequitur, said, "I have another Hartquest this year. And the Garcia triplets and a Perlton."

Snape nodded in commiseration. "I am almost through a 24 year span of Weasleys . At least there are only two left now. At one point there were four there at once." He have Ron a dark look for stifling a laugh.

They went on to look at the library, and then the gym. "You could fly in here," Harry whispered. The wood shop, metal shop and Ag building were all presented for admiration. Ron just found it a little confusing. Making things, he decided, was a really Muggle thing. Except it sort of looked interesting, and he inspected it all carefully because he knew his dad would be mad to know all about it.

Eventually they found themselves outside under the trees again. A great many people had gathered, and helpful teenage girls brought them food and drink. And watermelon. A big platter heaped with huge red slices of the fruit was on every table. You were supposed to pick it up in your hands and eat all you wanted of it. Ron got started.

Ron and Harry got invited to the seed spitting contest. Lacking the life time of practice their hosts seemed to have, they ended up doing it for a lark instead of actually trying, and while they did not even place they made an incredible mess of their shirts. When they returned to their table, Snape looked up and said to Hermione, "Are you sure you wish to tie yourself to that for an entire lifetime?"

"Um. Let me think."

"Hey!" protested Ron as she pretended to give it a great deal of thought. "At least you'll be entertained."

Snape opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and shook his head.

"Too easy?" Harry asked. Snape did not bother to answer him.

"Hey? Guys?" The young man was not one of the ones they had been introduced to, and he didn't bother to identify himself, but only said, "Are you doing the tug of war? With the teachers? We almost have the pit ready."

A pit. Of course they had to go look. A twenty foot wide stretch of the lot next to the school had been plowed. A hose was turning the dirt to mud.

"How does it work?" Ron asked.

"We get to have an equal number of people on each side," the young man explained. "You can't add one to one side without one to the other. We only have twelve teachers here, so we thought yours would like to join in, because then we can add one more to our side. So Mr. Clark says the student we add should be one of you," he pointed to the Hogwarts pupils.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. Then looked at Snape. Who had a really unsettling look on his face. Slytherins, Ron remembered, were competitive.

"They want to do it," Hermione, her expression saying that she thought they were insane, but expected nothing less. "So. Harry. Ron. How are you going to decide which of you goes?"

Ron looked at Harry. Who was looking at Snape. "I'd better do it." Ron knew he had more muscles than Harry, even if, on sheer determination and will, Harry probably had him beat. He was pretty sure, though, that Harry was sort of distract-able now, when it came to their potions instructor.

"Okay," said Harry, and they followed their native guide to the table where the cheerleaders were handing out papers with the rules on it. People were lining up along the edges of the pit. Very young boys were running back and forth through the water, churning more dirt into mud. Four teens were bringing a big rope from the direction of the school gym. Mr. Clark had a whistle. He blew it to get everyone's attention.

He waited for things to get a little quieter and then shouted, "Remember, no shoes allowed. Nobody's ever recovered from what Mrs. Allen said to the school board when Bud ruined his brand new hundred dollar Nikes in the mud, so don't wear anything you don't mind getting ruined. Okay, there are thirteen teachers this year, including Mr. Snape from over on the other side of the big pond." Ron may have been the only person to see the little wince. "And on the student side, they've picked Ron Weasley to pull, just to keep it nice and personal. So you students need to add twelve more to your team, pick a captain and have a strategy meeting. Teachers, you just plan your strategy. Both teams have ten minutes. Go!"

Ron trotted over to where the students were gathering, glad of his growth spurt last year and that he was big enough to have them look him over and nod approvingly as he stopped. Everybody was taking off their shoes except the two biggest boys. Well, maybe oxen would have been a better description. "From the football team," somebody told Ron. Ron took off his own shoes, and when he noticed that the rest of the boys had pulled off their shirts, he did the same. They picked a girl named Wendy for their captain and everyone leaned forward to plot.

With a roaring shout they came out of the huddle and took their places along the big rope. Ron was in the middle and wishing he had gloves because the rope was rough. He remembered a spell that might help and hoped it would work, just a little. He looked up from casting it and almost choked.

On the teacher's side of the mud pit was an unlikely conglomeration of individuals. Fat and thin, old and older, big and small. Unlike the students, most of the male teachers had kept on their shirts and shoes. Snape had discarded his shoes and taken off his outer shirt. He was only wearing a white t-shirt now and to Ron he looked as naked as if he had nothing on at all because his tattoo was there for all to see. He thought the Mark meant nothing at all to the Muggles until he saw one of the women on the sideline pointing at it and whispering to her friend and really, should people who were as old as his mother have that look on their faces? That I-want-thatman look of lust? He wondered it that made Harry jealous, the way Ron had been jealous yesterday when Joe had shown an interest in Hermione.

"On your mark...get set...GO!" The whistle blew. The hose was pulled out from the mud pit. It was in the hands of two rather determined looking women who proceeded to spray first the people on one team and then the other, so that as you pulled you never knew if you'd suddenly be hit in the face or back or groin with a hard stream of effin' cold water.

He did notice that the first person to get totally soaked was Professor Snape. That the wet shirt clung to his body and outlined every muscle. There was a happy shriek from the Muggle women on the sidelines. Ron turned his head to see if he could see Harry, and grinned as he saw his friend's frowning face. And Hermione's. Eyes as big as house elves, both of them. Then he got blasted by water and found himself slipping forward. He grabbed the rope and put his back into it.

Twenty minutes later Ron sat up, laughing. He was smack dab in the middle of the mud, piles of equally filthy students on all sides of him. They'd lost. He couldn't believe they'd lost, because the students were younger, stronger, and certainly had more stamina. The teachers may have won, but the majority of them were about half dead, puffing, collapsed, faces so red you feared for their hearts. When they got up, they slapped each other on the back funny to see them daring to do so to Snape and congratulated each other. Snape was breathing hard but otherwise looked as cool as ever.

"Let that be a lesson to you," Mr. Clark announced. "Age and treachery over youth and strength." And he snickered in a really unattractive way. "More watermelon for everybody who wants it! Line up to get hosed off!" he shouted next.

After having the mud scrubbed off, Ron put on his shirt because even after only about half an hour he could feel his shoulders turning red. He sat down to put on his stockings and shoes, watching Snape do the same thing and thinking how odd it was to see his teacher as a man. Wondering how strange it must be for Snape to have the sunlight on the Dark Mark.

Thinking that he should hate Snape more than ever.

Only it was getting harder to do it.

Was that because Harry was practically family? And Snape was Harry's well, something. His first, anyway. And that shouldn't mean anything, but it did. He couldn't shake the notion that he was now somehow related to Snape. In some way. His head ached just thinking about it.

Hermione came up and offered him a paper cup of iced tea. He drank the stuff down in one long swallow. She and Harry must have gone and gotten it together, because Harry was handing one to Snape. Who was drinking it down, eyes closed, head thrown back, the long line of his throat, with the strings of his sweat damp hair clinging to it, exposed to the bright sun . And Harry had better stop looking at him that way or there wasn't going to be any secret there at all.

"Harry!" he called, and Harry came over to him. Ron whispered, "You're drooling over him. Hide it better."

"Oh. Thanks."

Oh, thanks?

The clothes dried incredibly quickly in the hot air. Mr. Clark came over and sat down with them. "Have you decided what you want to do for dinner?" he asked.

"We were just discussing that," Snape lied. He was too good at that.

"Well, there's no doubt that the Ham and Bean dinner is better for you, because they bring all the side-dishes, and if you're hungry it's the place to go. All you can eat, you know? Ice tea to drink and a dessert bar. Lots of families go there. Good wholesome environment. Which you can't honestly say about the Rocky Mountain Oyster Fry. It's at the park, only the actual serving is done from Raymond Hickles deck because that way they can serve beer."

"Beer?" Ron lifted his head.

"These kids of yours 18 or older?" Mr. Clark asked, with a grin.

"Yes," Snape said, lying again.

"Well, here, if you get publically drunk they haul you away to the jail for the night and let me tell you, they have no air conditioning in the jail, or fans. That keeps more people out of the lock-up here than most anything. Anyway, it's mostly singles at the fry, and there is a band. Lousy band, not that too many care. There's fried chicken and potato salad and chips. And the Rocky Mountain oysters. Which--you do know what they are?"

"No," said Hermione, before Snape could lie again. "What are they?" You could tell she really wanted to know, especially as Mr. Clark had that sort of smirk on his face again.

Clark got a little pink in the face before he answered. "That'd be testicles from the castrated calves. They fry them up in a batter."

"How...interesting," Hermione said. "Is there a virility component to the ritual? Is it assumed that some of the potency from the food transfers to the person?" She leaned forward, her eyes glowing the way they did when she learned something new.

"Well, now, I couldn't say," Mr. Clark was definitely going a little pinker still.

"It sounds more interesting," Harry said. "Than the other one."

"Can we go there?" Ron asked Snape.

"I believe a consensus has been reached," Snape said in that dry voice which told you he was laughing at you.

"Fine. Good. I'll take you home you'll probably want to change clothes. Then I'll come pick you up about six. Sure works for me. The wife doesn't care for the oysters, so usually I don't go," Clark said, lowering his voice. "It'll be a bit before I get all these kids out of here. Can't leave until the last one is gone," he explained, and went to supervise the exodus.

Hermione watched him go and then turned to Ron. "You do know that if you ever refer to me as 'the wife' I'm going to be sure that you suffer appropriately for at least a fortnight?"

"Right," Ron said, grinning.

Harry said, "I'm going to go help pick up trash."

So of course Hermione jumped up too, and Ron decided he might as well join her. They left Snape behind them, sitting at the table, a frown on his face and one long-fingered hand tapping the rough wooden surface of the picnic table.

Harry

Harry had to go help the two boys who were picking up trash. Had to.

If he sat there one more minute he was going to grab Severus Snape and assault him. With his mouth. And other body parts. And he absolutely could not. Not and keep his own respect. Not to mention Snape's.. He'd already had one warning from Ron this afternoon. It was going to be a lot harder than he had thought.

Everything always was.

The boys were glad of the help. They'd broken some rule and had been assigned to clean up. Rather like a detention. In this heat it was almost as much of a punishment as scrubbing cauldrons without magic. The trash all got thrown in large metal barrels, which were attracting flies. The sweat ran down their faces. Ron kept giving Harry looks that asked, 'Why are we doing this?' and Harry kept finding more trash.

It really made you appreciate the flick of a wand.

When Mr. Clark called they all went over to the car and piled in. Hermione wrote in her notebook right away. At least there was some sort of breeze as the old car picked up speed. Harry was really glad to see the funny old trailer house they were staying in. He was thinking of a shower. Actually, he first thought of a shower with Severus Snape, but thrust the image right out of his mind.

Well, he tried.

He added his 'Thank you!' to that of the others as he got out of the car. Mr. Clark waved and drove off. Professor Snape led the way inside. The first thing Snape said was, "Miss Granger, how do Muggles clean clothing?"

"Yesterday they said there was a washer," Hermione said, opening a door off the kitchen. "Yes, in here. There's soap, as well. We shall have to hang the clothing to dry it," she added.

Snape looked at the machine and was obviously not impressed. "You are in charge of the laundry."

She didn't argue, of course. But she did say, "We should take showers first."

"Shower," Ron said, longingly.

"Quickly, Mr. Weasley," Snape ordered. Ron vanished into the shower. Ten minutes later Ron leaned out of the door and called, "Harry? I forgot my clean clothes!" Harry brought them, and as the door shut and he turned, Snape stopped him.

"Put Miss Granger's bag in your old room, and bring yours to mine." Snape walked away after he gave the order. Harry hurried to obey, his throat and pants suddenly a bit tighter. It was easy to do, just move the suitcases. They had not unpacked into the dresser drawers, each of them no doubt not feeling comfortable enough to do so.

Ron arrived in the room just as Harry put the suitcase down on the bed. The bed was neatly made and tidy. The one he had shared with Snape, Harry realized, was just as they had left it.

"Harry?" Ron asked.

"He said to."

"He's going to let us?" Ron asked, amazed.

"Until someone comes to get us. The minute a wizard or witch shows up, we turn back into students and teacher. Following all the rules."

Ron considered it. "It's not that he's being nice to Hermione and me. He's doing it so he can have you," he said.

"I know. Who cares. You and Hermione have all your life. All I have is tonight and tomorrow night. He said so."

"He really is a bastard, Harry."

"I know." Harry sighed. "I can't even say he's my bastard. He's made it plain that he's not."

"Good. Just imagine if he got all possessive and nasty with it. Not letting you talk to your friends and never letting you go free to have someone else."

Harry smiled. "He wouldn't. He might be that way with someone else. Not with me."

"Ha."

"Maybe he'd try," Harry said. "Just to see if he could get away with it."

"Could he?"

"What do you think?" Harry said, smirking.

"That's disgusting. I think you learned that from him."

Harry smirked again.

Hermione came in, took in the luggage switch at a glance, shook her head and nudged them away, saying, "Your turn next, Harry. I'm after you. Hurry up, would you?"

Harry went and got his clean clothing. He noticed there was a plastic basket outside the bathroom door half filled with dirty clothes. He took a fast shower, washing off the sweat, enjoying the almost cold water sluicing over his skin. The moment he stepped out of the shower the heat hit him again. Dressed in clean clothing, he dropped his dirty clothing in the basket and went to his room to get the rest of his soiled clothing. He thought about collecting Professor Snape's as well but decided that without permission, you touched his belongings at your peril.

He went out to the sit at the kitchen table, where Severus sat with a cup of tea in front of him. A real cup of tea. Harry opened his mouth but before the words left him, Snape pointed at the counter. There was no tea pot but he poured the tea out of a large pan into the an ugly mug. Hot, unsweetened, and the blend was a bit odd but it did not matter. He checked the pan, decided there was plenty and filled his mug again.

"Thanks."

A short nod.

Hermione took over the bathroom. Ron came out with the rest of his laundry, saw the tea and joined them. Harry tried not to look at Professor Snape. Tried not to smell him, either. But the faint scent of sweat he could detect was driving him crazy.

Hermione came out, said, "Tea? Super!" and dropped her clothing in the basket. As she sat down, Snape got up, collected his clean clothing, and went into the bath room.

They sat there, rather stunned by the hot day, content to do little more than trade a few words. They all agreed that they could use a nap. They glanced at the bedrooms. At the clock. But no one said anything. Ron was sort of leaning on Hermione, playing with one of her wet curls. He whispered something in her ear.

Harry thought about Voldemort.

At least until Snape came out of the bathroom wearing only a pair of black trousers. They rode low on his hips. His hair was still wet and clung to his back. No one said anything as he went to the room and brought back his laundry. He dropped it in the overflowing basket, turned to the group at the table and looked them over, his eyes holding that evaluating, insulting look they had when he looked over a class of students and found them sadly wanting.

And then he walked over, pulled Harry from his chair, let go, tilted his chin towards their room, and then turned his back on them and walked away. Harry followed, and looked back over his shoulder. Ron and Hermione were also standing up, but he was pretty sure they weren't going to be rescuing him.

He definitely did not want to be rescued.

Snape took him to the room. He locked the door. He lifted one eyebrow. Harry started stripping. When he was naked, however, nothing happened. Snape just looked at him, standing there in the sunlight. Harry looked down at himself, wondering what was wrong.

Well, except for his growing erection. He looked up, a little embarrassed.

Snape's lips turned up just a fraction. He took his own clothing off, and then pulled Harry close and said into his ear, "Where is your wand?"

Harry pointed towards his clothing.

"No. Always have it within reach. Even if it does not work at the moment. Here," he said, and he pulled Harry's wand from his the pile of clothing on the floor. "This is how wizards do it. If they are not hidden somewhere else, the wands go on the beside table. You put it down so that it rests on something, and the tip points at the door. Or the window if you think attack is more likely from that direction. When there are two wands, and only one table, one points each way, crossed. When there is no window, both are pointed towards the door. Like this. Know that if you are with a wizard for the first time, and he puts his wand over yours, thus," he put his own down on top of Harry's, "he is indicating that he wishes to have you. If his wand is underneath, he agrees to receive you." Snape then turned the wands so that the base of Harry's lined up with the tip of his own. "And I am sure you know the meaning of this?"

"If you want to do...both?" Harry asked, after clearing his throat nervously.

"I'm afraid you'll actually communicate with words."

Harry nodded and said, "That's what I want."

"Youth. So optimistic Let's start with this." Snape placed his wand across Harry's. Then he reached out and took Harry's glasses and placed them behind the wands.

"Let's," Harry agreed. He went to the window and turned on the fan. It blew hot air in and was not cooling at all, but it was better than without it. Harry shoved the rumpled sheet and blanket down to the end of the bed and crawled into the center of it. Snape joined him, pulling Harry up to him and holding out a small plastic container at eye level.

"Pitiful Muggle substitute," Snape said. "There are elegant potions for this purpose. Scented, or charmed to be just the right temperature, or spelled to make the events last a little longer. There are entire books on the subject. And we," he sighed, "have this. A petroleum jelly. But it will serve." It was tossed onto the bed and one long pale arm reached out and caressed the curve of Harry's chest, pausing to play idly with the rosy tip of the flat nipple there.

Harry turned his head and let his lips fall over Snape's.

He was pushed away. "No kisses. No kisses, Potter. Save them for your own true love. Kisses mean too much. Or nothing."

"You kissed me last night."

"And they were nothing. But you are something of a romantic. We both know it. Or you would not be taking up the task the magic world has assigned to you. You'd very sensibly be telling them all to sod off and leave you alone. But not Harry Potter. You're the type who wants kisses. Surely you can see that it is better for both of us if you do not have them."

"Afraid of falling for me?" Harry asked, one finger tracing a fine line of hair that began in the very center of Snape's chest.

"Rather, of the opposite. It is you who are too emotional. It will not serve you well."

"It's not that, you know," Harry said. "It's not that I'm emotional, really. It's that..." He thought about it. It's that I want someone for my own. Family. Someone to touch me. Love me. Want me. And you don't want to be that for me. But he knew he could say none of that. He drew in a deep breath. "Go ahead and give me the nothing kisses, if that's all you have to give. I want to learn them, too."

"You are so stupid," Snape sighed, but then he pulled Harry to him and plastered their mouths together.

If these are nothing kisses, how can anyone survive the real thing?

He gave them back, learning the tricks of the tongue, and how to avoid the rather generous nose, and when to take a breath and what to do with his hands. Snape knew what to do with his hands. At some point he had opened the plastic jar, and coated his fingers with the stuff, and placed his lips on Harry's again just at the moment he pushed a finger up into him, letting his tongue and his finger make their points in unison.

And then was no kissing at all, just Harry braced on his hands and knees, looking back over his shoulder to see what it looked like when that tall, lean form took hold of his hips, frowned, and thrust into him, hard. Harry wanted to keep looking but the strain on his neck was too much and so he hung his head, squeezed his eyes shut and turned his whole attention to feeling it.

So different, this time, with the precise and careful preparation and the terse, low instructions. And the big hand held him, he slid easily into the curled fingers, and how did Snape make that feeling happen just then, so that Harry's wild pleasure triggered his own, and they ended in a soggy, sweaty heap, panting and fighting for breath in the hot dry air of the fan.

"We should have...ah," deep breath, "showered. After," Harry said, as the hot body finally rolled off of him and their bodies parted with a sound that made him snigger to himself and regret that he wouldn't be able to share it with Ron. Then he felt the tingle that magic makes as it touches the skin and he lifted his head, startled to realize that he was clean. He looked over at Snape, his eyes open wide. Snape had his wand in his hand.

"I've used what magic I could gather. As an experiment," Snape said, indicating his own sticky groin and nodding to Harry's wand.

"Right." Harry flicked his wand. Yes, it did work, but slowly and not willingly. Harry considered, looking at his wand and thinking that he still had some magic within it, he could tell. And should he mention this? It was wise to hold something in reserve, to not use all your strength and to not let anyone know exactly how much power you had. He had, he realized, learned this from Professor Snape.

"Get dressed. Mr. Clark may be prompt," Snape said, dressing himself quickly, without looking in Harry's direction.

Harry crawled off the bed and winced. His arse ached. His lips felt sensitive, too. He held the feeling close inside. He was going to be eighteen on Monday, but today was the day he felt like an adult. Not to mention the conviction that all his wishes had come true at once.

And there was still tonight. And tomorrow morning. And tomorrow night.

He looked over as he pulled on his shirt. Dressed except for his shoes, Snape was stretched out on the bed, face up to catch the breeze, eyes closed. Harry crawled onto the bed, took a good look at the thin face so close to his, and closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, Snape was shaking his shoulder. "Clark is here. Rouse your friends. Hurry."

Snape went to the door. Harry knocked frantically on Ron and Hermione's door, rattling the knob for good measure. "Are you awake? He's here! Hurry up!" The door opened almost at once. Ron was dressed except for his shirt.