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Title: Misunderstood ``°°ºº¤oøO§Oøo¤ºº°°``°°ºº¤oøO§Oøo¤ºº°°``°°ºº¤oøO§Oøo¤ºº°°`` Deep in his dungeon, Professor Severus Snape was restless. He was brewing a complicated mixture to use as a demonstration for the 7th year Potions class, and it needed to simmer for some hours before it would be ready for straining and bottling. The walls were beginning to get slightly moist, a sure sign that they were about to get more rain. Snape scowled irritably at his bubbling cauldron, as if it were to blame for the impending assault of rainwater and the attending dampness that inevitably plagued his underground domain when the weather turned foul. Grumbling under his breath, he stalked to a tall cupboard and began removing the neatly stacked towels he stored there. He paced around the room, then, spreading the towels along the base of the wall, all the while muttering imprecations against the nasty Scottish climate, the idiots who'd stuck the potions laboratories in the overly humid basement of Hogwarts castle, and the unintelligent, ungrateful students who never fully appreciated his demonstrations, anyhow. In the midst of his fuming, a cold, fat droplet of water detached itself from the ceiling and fell onto Severus Snape's head with a wet splat. His grumbling escalated to an outraged snarl, and he glared balefully at the vaulted stonework above his head. Finally deciding to get out of his laboratory and be done with it, he enchanted the fire burning under his cauldron to extinguish itself at the appointed time, slapped a lid on the pot, and stormed out of the dungeons onto the darkened grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He kept going at a furious pace until he was well clear of the castle and crossing the meadows that bordered the Forbidden Forest. It was only then that he finally slowed down and took a deep breath, wondering what exactly had him so worked up. Worked up. Maybe that was it. Yes, the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He was so bloody sick of always being worked up, finely drawn, tense. He always had to have his guard up, and he was tired of it. He couldn't appear to be evil, not here at Hogwarts, yet neither could he appear to be good in the presence of people, students especially, who might talk to a few old...acquaintances...of his. Things might go very badly indeed for him in certain circles if he weren't careful. And so he had to remain aloof. He had to isolate himself from everyone, so that he neither appeared to be an ally of the Light, nor appeared to be consorting with the Dark. It was exhausting, it was lonely, and Severus Snape was growing very tired of his desperate battle against the Dark from its inner circle. Not the struggle, itself, mind. He owed the Light a great debt, and he would do anything to protect the young witches and wizards at the school, however aggravating the little brats might be. He just wished with all his heart that there was *someone* with whom he could be himself. Someone who would listen, and trust him, and not judge him so hastily. He sighed. Snape wandered and ruminated on this, until at length, a deep thumping noise registered on his consciousness. He'd just begun to speculate on what might be making such a noise when a great baying howl rent the night, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of something large and disturbingly quick bearing down on him through the grass. Snape's sharp ears determined that whatever it was, it was very big, very heavy, four-legged, and it was snarling and growling something fierce. Heart hammering like a rabbit's, he fumbled frantically for the wand secreted in the folds of his black robe, the only thought in his head to hex the creature before it devoured him outright. He despaired of being able to respond in time and mentally prepared to sell his life dearly, all the while cursing himself roundly for wandering so close to the blasted forest at night... But the expected sensation of rending teeth and claws never came. Instead, the creature apparently stopped short of him and was bounding back and forth, emitting a most enthusiastic...barking? The measured thumps drew closer, and a light bobbed into view at the edge of the trees. Snape finally managed to liberate his wand from the tenacious black folds ensnaring it and got ready to do battle, should the need arise. The dim light suddenly froze, then approached Snape even faster. "'Oo goes there?" a deep voice rumbled menacingly. Snape deflated visibly with relief. Thank all the gods... "It's Severus Snape, Groundskeeper. Call off your infernal mongrel," Snape said testily, thoroughly disgusted with himself for being so rattled by a *dog.* "Oh. Good evenin', Professor," Hagrid said jovially as his huge form loomed out of the shadows. "Bit of a wild nigh' teh be wanderin' about all the way out 'ere, innit? I don' usually see anybody when I'm on me rounds like this, 'specially no' in this sort o' weather. 'Ere, now, Fang, it's jes' the good Professor," he addressed the barking, slobbering hound. "Run 'long home, now, and leave the poor man in peace." Hagrid made a shooing motion with one huge hand, and the oversized dog let out a surprisingly high-pitched yip and galumphed off in the direction of the Gamekeeper's cabin. Snape sighed with relief when the obnoxious barking receded into the distance. "I apologize for interrupting your rounds," he said without his usual scorn. "I was lost in my thoughts, and I wandered farther from the castle than I realized." Hagrid cast a sideways glance at the Professor, who looked much like a disembodied head and hands against the night in his black robes. "Some pretty powerful thoughts yeh got there, Professor, teh get all the way out 'ere with 'em." "Mm," Snape made a non-committal noise. Hagrid peered up at the black sky, which was roiling with storm clouds. "Hm," he grunted. "I think we're abou' teh get a bit o' weather, Professor. If yeh want ter make it back t' th' castle, yeh'd best go now." "Oh, yes, of course. I suppose..." The sky abruptly opened with a great flash of lightning and deafening clap of thunder. The concussion all but knocked Snape flat and even made Hagrid stagger. "C'mon, Professor, we got ter get out of this storm, and righ' quick!" Hagrid hollered over the noise of the wind and rain and thunder. Snape didn't respond immediately, still being somewhat dazed. Hagrid resorted to the simple expedient of packing the Professor under one great arm and taking off at a lumbering trot for his cabin, which offered closer refuge than the castle. Snape felt completely ridiculous, dangling like a rag doll from Hagrid's strong grip. No amount of squirming, however, gained him release, so he resigned himself to his fate until he felt the Groundskeeper stop and open his door. With a frightened whimper, Fang shot out from where he'd been hiding under the stoop and clambered into the small house ahead of them. Hagrid crashed inside, Professor in tow, and deposited the dripping man on the floor before the hearth. "*Do* you mind, you great oaf?" Snape demanded waspishly, shaking his robes to get most of the excess water out and leaving a large puddle on Hagrid's floor. Hagrid's head swiveled around from where it was occupied with hanging his cloak up to dry. He saw Snape's efforts to get rid of the water and protested on behalf of his clean floor. "'Ere, now, Professor, th' idea was ter get *out* o' th' rain, not bring it inside, yeh know." "What?" the Professor snapped, then stopped abruptly and blinked. "Why, Hagrid, I do believe you were just sarcastic with me," he said, apropos of nothing. Hagrid snorted. "Aye, and tha's ruddy impossible, innit. I'm not s'posed ter 'ave the brains fer that, right?" Hagrid sighed. "Beggin' yer pardon if I've offended yeh, Professor. I'm not at me best t'nigh', I'm afraid. 'Ere, yeh c'n get outter those wet things. I've got extra yeh c'n wear while yours dry. My things might 'ang on yer a wee bit, but 't least they're no' wet." "What?" Snape said again, feeling a bit like he'd suddenly been dropped into an unfamiliar play without a script. People weren't ever *nice* to him. He went to great pains to keep it that way, to hold himself aloof, and yet here was Hagrid, with whom he'd never even been cordial, offering him dry clothes. Hagrid looked concerned. "Is yer 'earin' alrigh' then, Professor?" he bellowed. "Yeh've not damaged yerself from the storm, 'ave yeh?" Snape clapped his hands over his ears to muffle the giant's voice to an acceptable level. "Yes, yes, yes, I can hear just fine, thank you. I think. Or perhaps I am hallucinating. Did you *really* just offer me dry clothes?" "Well a'course I did. Yeh can't very well go back out there in tha'," he said as another resounding peal of thunder shook the cabin. Fang whined from his hiding place under the bed. "If yeh've got ter wait it out, yeh might as well be dry, eh?" Hagrid rummaged in a massive wardrobe until he came out with what appeared to be a winter-weight bathrobe, somewhat threadbare, but still serviceable. "Ah, 'ere we are. This'll be too big, a'course, but 't least it's got a belt yeh c'n cinch as tigh' as yeh need it." Snape reluctantly accepted the huge garment, wondering when he would wake up from this most peculiar dream. He surreptitiously pinched himself just to be sure and barely suppressed a yelp. Not a dream after all. Hagrid was still eyeing the silent academician nervously. "Uh, sorry I 'aven't got more t'offer yeh in the way of privacy, Professor. I'll jest nip out to the sheds fer more wood. An' I've got an orphaned unicorn colt I need teh look in on. Be back in a minnit." With that, a flustered Hagrid donned his sopping cloak and barged back out into the teeth of the storm to run his errands. Snape stood dumbly in the middle of the cabin's single room for a minute, trying to regain his equilibrium. "What the *hell* is going on here?" he demanded of no one in particular. "Well, might as well make the best of it." Snape scrambled out of his dripping robes and hung them from the corner of Hagrid's mantle to dry in the heat of the merrily crackling fire. He briefly considered stripping out of his damp underthings, but decided that drying his underwear on Hagrid's hearth was just too strange, even for this peculiar night. All of his musings, however, had taken Snape some time, and he was startled to hear Hagrid's footsteps on the stoop. He hurriedly unfolded the large robe he'd been given and swung it round his shoulders just as Hagrid entered the cabin, treating the giant to a brief view of pale, sleekly muscled back and shoulders before they disappeared under the robe. Hagrid swallowed hard, and his face flushed. "Er, sorry teh barge in on yer like tha'," he apologized. "I thought yeh'd be changed by now." Snape wrapped himself in Hagrid's robe as best he could and wound the belt twice around his waist before tying it. He felt ridiculously like a small boy who'd raided his father's closet. "No need to apologize, Hagrid, I was woolgathering again. Thank you for the robe, by the way." Hagrid blinked, obviously discomfited by this polite version of Professor Snape. "Er, yeh, think nothin' of it." Hagrid floundered to a stop, flushed slightly, then continued. "Er, uh, I 'ope yeh don' mind if I put on some dry clothes." "No, of course not; don't be stupid. I'll turn my back if it would make you feel better." Hagrid snorted as he hung up his wet cloak again and dropped his armload of dry wood into a basket by the fire with a tremendous clatter. "S'no never mind teh me, Professor. I reckon I don' 'ave anything you 'aven't got, 'cept in larger size, after all. I was thinkin' of, er, your sensibilities, no' mine." Snape actually laughed, surprising even himself. "Hagrid, in my trade, I regularly use such delicate ingredients as freshly minced slugs and glands I have to extract from lizards myself. I don't imagine I'll have too much trouble dealing with a half-giant changing clothes." Hagrid blushed again. "Righ'-o, then. I'll be jes' a minnit." With that, Hagrid stripped off his sopping belt and tunic as he crossed the room to his wardrobe. Since Hagrid had a way of dominating the small room, Snape couldn't help but see the half-naked giant, and what he saw made him exclaim before his brain had the sense to stop his mouth. "Good God, Hagrid, where in Merlin's name have you been hiding all that?!" Snape blinked owlishly at his host. When one looked at Hagrid fully clothed, one's first impression, of course, was that the giant was very large and very portly, sort of along the lines of a large teddy bear. Snape had made that apparently erroneous assessment, himself. The fact of the matter, though, was that Hagrid was *built.* His shapeless tunics and cloaks hid a very hairy, tremendously muscular torso and corded arms like tree trunks. Hagrid froze and glanced worriedly around the room. "'Iding wha'?" he asked apprehensively, afraid that either Snape had seen something untoward, or that a creature had gotten loose in the house. Snape gestured silently at Hagrid himself, hoping the giant would understand. "Oh, tha'," Hagrid said as he cast an amused glance at his guest. "Well, I could'na very well wrangle full grown Hippogriffs if I were a marshmallow, now could I?" The big man pulled another bulky, baggy tunic from his wardrobe, and all that fearsome strength disappeared under the guise of Hagrid, the gentle groundskeeper. Snape blinked again. "Yes. Yes, of course. I suppose you're right." Hagrid chuckled as he stripped out of his trousers and hurriedly stepped into a dry pair, but not before Snape, helpless to avert his curious gaze, got a glimpse of a rather spectacularly muscled backside and massive legs. He swallowed hard and wondered when his world would put itself back together properly. "Now then, tha's much better, eh Professor?" "Er, yes. Much better to be dry. Yes." "Uh, Professor? Yer lookin' a bit pale. Could yeh do with a spot of tea, then? Maybe a nip of somethin' stronger, if yeh've the need?" "Tea," Snape said firmly. The *last* thing he needed to do was to add alcohol to the mix. "Certainly. I'll jes' put the kettle on." Hagrid suited actions to words, hanging an iron kettle full of water over his crackling fire. He stumped over to a cupboard and removed a tin of tea, a bowl of sugar, and a pair of mugs, one the size of a paint can and the other of more reasonable dimensions that looked ridiculously small in Hagrid's huge hand. He upended the smaller mug and shook it once or twice, then dusted it out with a towel of questionable cleanliness. "S'not all tha' often I 'ave to get out the comp'ny dishes," Hagrid confided in his guest. Rumbling contentedly to himself, the giant bustled about the small room, flinging a generous handful of loose tea that looked suspiciously like it had some extra bits of things mixed in with it into the merrily bubbling pot. He swung the pot off the fire and left the tea to steep. "Me own blend," the giant rumbled proudly. "It's 'ad as much refinement as one o' yer concoctions, Professor. I've been working on it fer years." Snape gulped, wondering what exactly he was about to drink. "What exactly do you put in it?" he asked carefully. Hagrid chuckled. "You'll not need teh worry abou' the tea, Professor. There's nothin' poisonous in it. Jest a few spices to liven up the taste a bit. I like reg'lar tea, and all, but it's 'orrible dull sometimes." Snape snorted, but accepted the mug of tea Hagrid presented him. He sipped experimentally. "Mmm, Hagrid, this actually isn't all that bad," Snape said grudgingly. Hagrid beamed expansively. "Why, thank'ee, Professor, sir." One arched ebony eyebrow crept towards Snape's hairline. "Hagrid, I'm sitting at your kitchen table, wearing your bathrobe and drinking your tea. I think we can dispense with the "Professor" and "sir" bit," he said wryly. Hagrid flushed. "Alrigh', sir, if tha's what yeh'd prefer." Snape sighed and shook his head in defeat. His curiosity got the better of him. "Tell me something, Hagrid, why do you hide under all those clothes like that?" Hagrid chuckled mirthlessly. "D'yeh honestly think the parents of the wee ones up at th' castle would allow a giant near their children if they knew wha' he was really capable of?" he asked softly. "They don' mind s'long as all I am's a 'armless teddy bear. No' too bright, more fluff than sense. I'd never 'ave been able to stay on after tha' whole chamber o' secrets mess when I was a lad if they though' I was dangerous. So nobody knows 'ow dangerous I c'n be. 'Cept Professor Dumbledore, a'course. Can't put anythin' past 'im, so yeh can't. I'm a bit s'prised I fooled yeh fer as long as I 'ave. Yer pretty sharp, yerself. An' after Professor Lupin...well, let's jes' say I've been leery of yeh. Lupin's careful enough abou' 'is own condition that 'e'd never 'arm a child, and yeh came down right 'ard on 'im. In me own way, I guess I'm much more of a threat to th' students. Lupin, at least 'e's 'armless most of the time. S'only once a month tha' yeh 'arf t'be careful 'round 'im." He gestured to his thickly muscled torso. "I'm like this *all* th' time. I 'ave teh be awful careful 'round the little ones. They're so fragile." Hagrid sighed. "I s'pose yer goin' ter bring this up wi' th' board o' governors, now, are yeh?" Snape blinked. He'd never heard Hagrid string so many words together at once, much less in such a significant speech. He was also irritated that the giant would think so little of him. "Of course I'm not going to the Board," he said peevishly. "You've been Groundskeeper longer than I've been alive. They'd never listen to me over you. Besides, if you were going to harm any students, it would've happened by now." Hagrid snorted. "Yer a hypocrite, Professor, if I may be blunt. Either that er yeh really got it in fer Remus Lupin." Snape couldn't stop the flush that rose to stain his face. He squirmed uncomfortably. "Lupin is a monster. He nearly killed me." Hagrid shook his head sadly. "Tis a shame yeh never tried teh see past that." His eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Prolly has sommat teh do with nobody lookin' past yer own masks." He sighed. "T'warn't Remus 'oo was responsible fer that anyhow. T'were another o' Sirius Black's pranks that got out o' hand." Snape glared suspiciously at Hagrid. "And how do you know that?" "Well, 'oo d'yeh think saw to it tha' young Remus 'ad a place teh go every full moon? And 'oo d'yeh think got 'im there when he was too far gone teh get himself there?" Snape blinked. "He never bit you?" "'Course 'e didn't. I am part giant, after all. 'E couldn't infect me even if 'e wanted ter. An' th' bloodlust is only fer humans, so 'e wasn't a danger t' me." Snape thought about that for a minute. "You play things awfully close to your vest, don't you Hagrid?" he asked suddenly. Hagrid tossed him a confused glance. "Er, vest, Professor?" he asked blankly. "I don't wear vests, so I don't." Snape's eyes narrowed, but Hagrid's usual, mild, slightly baffled expression was all that looked back at him. Silently he picked up his mug of tea, still watching the half-giant and trying to figure out exactly what the man was playing at. He raised the mug to his lips. Hagrid grinned suddenly and winked outrageously at him. In the middle of a sip of Hagrid's special tea, Snape suddenly found himself in the ridiculous position of trying not to snort tea out of his nose. He coughed and wheezed and emitted strangled barks of laughter as he got himself back under control. "Really, Hagrid, the Headmaster ought to call upon your services to entertain the students at the Halloween Feast," he said sardonically. Hagrid chuckled. "Always good fer a larf, I s'pose," he drawled self-deprecatingly. Snape didn't answer immediately. Truth be told, he suddenly felt closer to Hagrid than he was really comfortable with. They had a lot in common, surprisingly enough, hiding behind their respective masks. Without any of his usual snappish demeanor, Snape gazed at Hagrid for a moment. "Hagrid, do you ever wish you had someone you didn't have to hide from?" Hagrid looked thoughtful. "Well, yeh see, I do, sir. Why d'yeh think I enjoy lookin' after me misunderstood beauties so much? They're just as misunderstood as me, so they are. There isn't nobody else oo'd look at a blast-ended skrewt and see somethin' worth admirin' and cherishin'. There isn't nobody else oo'd want to take in a motherless dragon egg jest for the poor wee one's sake. Yessir, I feel a lot o' kinship with me creatures, so I do." Hagrid took a huge gulp from his gigantic mug. Snape digested that for a moment as he sipped contemplatively from his mug. "I owe you an apology, Hagrid," he admitted grudgingly. Hagrid blinked, puzzled. "Wha' for, sir?" "I've given you far less credit than you apparently deserve." Hagrid laughed outright, and the cabin vibrated and echoed with the sheer volume of his mirth. "Aw, now don' worry abou' tha', Professor. I'd'a been more worried if yeh'd been nice teh me." He cleared his throat. "Yer a lot like one o' me creatures, y'know. Yer all teeth and bristles on th' outside. But inside, yer jest as won'erful as they are." Hagrid flushed suddenly. "I shouldna' 've said tha'," he mumbled, embarrassed, as Snape spluttered through another mouthful of tea. Snape glared at his blushing host. "What exactly do you mean by that?" he demanded peckishly. Hagrid blustered ineffectively for a moment. "Don't pay me no mind, Professor. I'm sure I didn' mean anythin' by it." He heaved himself to his feet and stalked to the window, peering out into the raging storm. "Doesn't sound like it's gonna get any better anytime soon," he rumbled. "Yeh'd best make yerself comfortable. Yeh can't apparate back teh th' castle, and I 'aven't got a broom out here. Not tha' yeh should be flyin' in conditions like this, mind." Snape had stopped listening, though. At that moment, he was more concerned with the dizzy lassitude that was beginning to drag at his limbs. "Hagrid," he said carefully, trying not to slur. "What exactly is in this tea?" Hagrid started and spun around, regarding the swaying wizard at his kitchen table with some concern. "Jest a bit of a calmin' blend o' herbs..." The giant trailed off. "Oh dear." Snape lurched unsteadily to his feet. "Damn it all, Hagrid, what the hell have you poisoned me with?!" he rasped hoarsely, cursing his usual intimidating hiss for deserting him in a time of need. "Honest, Professor, nothin' dangerous!" Hagrid protested. "Though I imagine, now tha' I think abou' it, it might be a wee bit strong fer a little fellow like you." Snape tried to snap out that he wasn't little by any stretch of the imagination, and he was quite capable of counteracting the effects of the tea if he could just get to his wand... None of that made it out of his mouth before the room swirled and dissolved into blackness. Hagrid gasped and lunged forward, catching the stricken wizard before he could flatten his impressive nose against the stone floor. With a curiously gentle expression on his face, he carefully lifted the already-snoring Snape into his arms and carried him over to the giant-sized bed in the corner of his cabin. He bundled the sleeping man into the warm blankets and softly stroked Snape's shiny, black hair away from his face. The giant smiled a bit fatuously. "Oh, 'e's goin' ter be steamed abou' this," he mumbled to himself. "Sleep now, Sev," he whispered. "I didn' mean ter put yeh out, but now that yer there, yeh deserve a good rest." One thick, calloused finger stroked lightly along Severus' fine, pale cheek. The sleeping wizard murmured unintelligibly and turned his head into Hagrid's caress, a faint smile on his slumbering face. Hagrid's breath caught. "Ah, Sev. I could never tell yeh awake tha' yer more beeyootiful than all me creatures put together." One final caress, and Hagrid set about banking the fire and settling himself on the sofa to sleep. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ It was Hagrid who awoke first the next morning, roused by the first rays of the sun that arrowed in through his window and fell squarely upon the sofa. He blinked groggily for a moment. "Oh, best wake up the Professor. There'll be no talkin' to 'im if 'e's late fer class," he mumbled to himself. Hagrid heaved himself to his feet and stretched, his spine cracking with a sharp report. "Ooo. Better not sleep on the sofa again." He paced over toward the bed, the only evidence of its occupant a lump under the blankets, a tuft of long black hair at the open end of said lump, and the sound of soft snores floating out from underneath. Hagrid leaned down and shook the lump gently. "Professor Snape, sir?" There was a snort and a groan from underneath the blankets, but other than that, the Professor did not stir. Hagrid smiled fondly. "All worn out, poor little thing," he said to himself. "I'll put some breakfas' on so's he'll 'ave sommat ter eat when 'e comes round." Humming softly under his breath, Hagrid set some water on to boil for tea, not the blend that had put Snape to sleep this time, and began heating a pair of skillets to start cooking the rest of breakfast. While he was waiting, he heard a whine and a scratching noise, so he turned to let Fang out. He glanced at the bed again. Still no signs of animated life. "Sir? Professor Snape, sir? Yeh really need ter wake up soon," he ventured. Still nothing. Hagrid sighed and turned his attention to the bacon and eggs and potatoes he was frying. At length, he had a suitable breakfast ready for the both of them, and he decided it was time to get the Professor out of bed, whether he liked it or not. He cleared his throat. "PROFESSOR SNAPE!!" he bellowed. The response was rather gratifying, if Hagrid did say so, himself. The lump on the bed disintegrated with fantastic speed as the startled Professor flew straight up in the air three feet and then shot off the mattress to stand unsteadily in the middle of the room, blinking without comprehension at Hagrid. The giant grinned jovially. "G'mornin', sir. I've breakfast all ready fer yeh." Snape blinked again. "What? Breakfast? Where...How...Hagrid?!" Hagrid peered at his houseguest uncertainly. "Must still be feelin' tha' tea," he muttered under his breath. Then, louder, he said, "Why'n't yeh jest come with me fer a minute, Professor. I'll getcha all woke up proper." In his sleepy disorientation, Snape hesitated. It was that hesitation that gave Hagrid an opening and also convinced him that his hastily concocted plan was, in fact, necessary if Severus was to be coherent in front of his classes today. The giant seized Snape's arm and dragged the hapless Professor toward the door of the cabin. "Hagrid, what...?" He didn't get a chance to finish. Hagrid, obviously intent on his mission, was implacable as he threw open the door, marched Snape outside, hauled him up in the air, and upended him into the rain barrel, which was quite full from the previous night's storms. With much flailing of limbs that looked like spindly white sticks protruding from the dark, sodden mass of Hagrid's house robe, Snape managed to scramble out of the barrel. He stood, dumbfounded and spluttering for a moment, then flew at Hagrid, hissing and spitting like a wet cat. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you idiot?! I ought to hex you into next week," Snape hissed, eyes blazing as he pounded both fists against Hagrid's massive chest. The Groundskeeper simply raised an eyebrow as he gazed calmly down at the irate wizard. Further infuriated by the lack of response, Snape aimed a sharp kick at Hagrid's shin and grumbled something that sounded like, "could've drowned me, you brainless giant..." Hagrid's eyes flashed, and he struck with surprising speed for such a large man. Severus abruptly found himself smashed face-first against the wall of Hagrid's shack, with the giant pressed, huge and unyielding, against his back. Snape squeaked with alarm before he could stop himself. He felt Hagrid's muscles shift behind him, and whiskers tickled his right ear as the big man leaned forward. "Watch yerself, Professor," he growled softly, warningly, in Snape's ear. "I thought yeh'd 'ave got the idea by now tha' I'm no' as 'armless as I look." Severus swallowed hard, and was appalled to realize that he was...aroused. It was no surprise to Snape, after all, that he was attracted to another male. He'd never been attracted to women. But...Hagrid?! This was intolerable. He had to get away. Immediately. The Professor wriggled madly and got himself loose. Mumbling something about, "late" and "class," he slogged back into Hagrid's hut, hurriedly changed into his own robes, which were dry by that time, and fled back across the fields to Hogwarts. Anything to get away from that most disturbing realization. And he had a class to teach, as well. Stripped down to his leggings and doing his own washing up at the rain barrel, Hagrid watched him go, flapping like a bat all the way across the fields. But he hadn't missed the way Severus' ears turned pink pinned up against the wall like that. Neither had he missed the brief pause as Snape stared at him just before the wizard ran off back to the castle. Hagrid grinned wickedly. Well, well. He always enjoyed trying to tame his dangerous creatures, to coax them to trust him as he trusted them not to harm him. This one, he sensed, would be the hardest of all to domesticate. But the result... Ah, the result would be sweet. Rumbling contentedly to himself, Hagrid went back inside his hut and treated himself to a double helping of slightly cooled breakfast. He pondered his strategy. Yes, it would be best to keep the good Potions Master slightly on edge. He'd known Severus Snape since the wizard was just a boy. That boy was all grown up now, but Hagrid knew that one thing remained the same. It was what made the man such a whiz with potions. Severus Snape absolutely could not resist a challenge. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Snape was still muttering to himself when he stalked back into his dungeons. He spied the cauldron still on his desk and clapped one hand to his forehead in mortification. He couldn't believe he'd been that careless with a potion. Muttering imprecations at overgrown gamekeepers, he thanked his lucky stars for the charmed stasis-lid, and strained the potion in time to meet his morning class. He was nearly through his lecture on complex poison antidotes when he noticed that the entire roomful of 7th year Gryffindors and Slytherins was looking at him funny. His wrath descended upon the unfortunate Lee Jordan, who was trying vainly not to smile about something. "Mr. Jordan," he hissed out. "Yes, sir?" Lee answered warily, wondering what he'd done wrong this time. "Would you care to tell the class what you find so amusing?" "Not really, no, sir." Lee answered truthfully. It was always worse if you lied to Professor Snape. Snape glowered. "Five points from Gryffindor for insolence, Mr. Jordan. Would you like to try again?" "Um, yes, sir?" "Good answer. Explain yourself." "Well, sir, Professor Snape, sir, I couldn't help wondering if perhaps you might've overslept this morning, sir," Lee managed to stammer out as inoffensively as possible. "Overslept, Mr. Jordan?" Snape said, his voice dangerously soft, black eyes snapping with irritation. "Er, yes sir?" "Since you were two minutes late this morning, Mr. Jordan, I hardly think you qualified to judge." One ebony eyebrow arched upwards, a silent demand for an explanation. Lee took a deep breath and tried his best to be polite. The Potions Master was obviously in a terrible mood, and Lee had no wish to make matters any worse than they already were. At the rate Snape was going, Gryffindor would be in negative points by the end of the week. So he really did try. "Begging your pardon, sir, but ...well... you're looking a bit rumpled this morning, sir." Lips already parted to deliver a scathing retort, Snape halted abruptly and then cursed his damnably pale skin for surely showing the blush he felt creep from his neck to his hairline. The Professor was thoroughly mortified to remember exactly *why* he was rumpled on this particular morning. Drawing all his dignity and irritation around him like a cloak, he fixed the unfortunate Gryffindor with his best scowl. "Given your usual appearance, *Mister* Jordan, I hardly think you are one to comment on mine. Take another 5 points from Gryffindor, and you will serve detention with Mr. Filch tonight." Lee looked very much like he wanted to protest, but he simply clenched his jaw and ground out, "yes, sir." Snape glared daggers at the rest of the students and barked at them to get started. The thunder of frightened feet heading for the supply cabinets was tremendous. It also provided enough cover for Snape to mutter a straightening spell under his breath before sinking wearily (and impeccably) into his chair. The whole situation was *just* intolerable. His lapse put him in a foul mood, and he snapped and snarled at the class throughout the lesson. The effect, naturally, was that Snape needed to use more of his shoddily-brewed antidote than he felt he should have in a 7th year class. Silly incompetent brats needed to learn how to work under greater adversity than *he* dished out if they wanted to be of any use at all with a cauldron. Snape chose not to dwell on the fact that most of them probably didn't want anything to do with cauldrons after they got through their NEWTs. After his class departed, he mentally reviewed his schedule for the rest of the day. Two free periods, then the first year Hufflepuffs, then lunch, and the afternoon with the 3rd, 4th, then 5th year Ravenclaws. He sighed. At least his afternoon classes would be a bit better. Even if true interest in Potions was rare, at least the Ravenclaws were intelligent enough to get it right most of the time. His musings were interrupted by a voice booming out of his fireplace. "Are you there, Severus?" Snape raised his voice enough to be heard without having to get up. "Yes, Albus, I'm here." "Excellent. I need you to come to my office immediately. Order business." Snape blinked and got to his feet. He poked his head round so that he could see the Headmaster's disembodied head in the enormous stone fireplace that dominated one wall of the potions classroom. Even through the fireplace, the old wizard twinkled obnoxiously at him when he saw the worried look on Snape's face. "Oh no, dear boy, it's not that dire. Urgent, but not dire." Snape visibly relaxed. "I'll be up shortly, Albus." Dumbledore winked out. Snape gathered himself. Albus never asked for him unless he was the only one suitable for the mission. He made his way up through the castle to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "Cherry Cordial," he murmured to it, and it spun aside to admit him to the cluttered space beyond. He was utterly surprised to see Hagrid sitting there uncomfortably, stuffed into one of Dumbledore's chairs and sipping tea from a cup that looked like a toy in his huge hands. Dumbledore looked up from the tea service he was fiddling with. "Ah, Severus. So good of you to join us. Please, do sit down." Snape sat, and silently marshaled his arguments as to why he couldn't possibly go on any of Albus' missions just now. Not during the school year, certainly. "Tea?" the old wizard offered politely. Snape nodded brusquely and made a vaguely affirmative noise. Dumbledore twinkled. "Twist of lemon, if I remember correctly," he commented, suiting actions to words before handing Snape his tea. Severus refrained from snorting aloud, barely. He doubted Dumbledore ever forgot anything. One wrinkled hand hovered over the ubiquitous dish of sweets, but a thunderous scowl seemed to convince the Headmaster that the confections were neither needed nor wanted. Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly. "Well, you must be wondering why I called you here." Snape sneered. "The thought had crossed my mind, especially since you generally don't send the staff out during the school year." Dumbledore nodded. "Very true, Severus. I'm afraid it cannot be helped this time, however. There is no one else I deem capable of completing this task successfully. I have need of your potions expertise, Severus, and you are the only one I trust to make the required potion properly." Snape eyed the Headmaster warily. If it was only a potion he needed, then surely that could be managed, even though he was currently elbows-deep in his perennial battle to keep his students from bringing the castle down around their ears. Hagrid sat silently, watching the exchange with avid interest, his black eyes darting from Headmaster to Potions Master and back again. Dumbledore fixed his eyes on his teacup, stirring it once before sipping. "And of course, I will need someone to see that the fruits of Severus' labors reach their intended recipients. Hagrid's teacup crashed down onto his saucer with a harsh clank. "Say no more, Professor Dumbledore, sir!" he said stoutly. "Isn't anyplace I wouldn' go, sir, as yeh very well know. I'll deliver that potion to 'ooever needs it, yeh c'n be sure o' tha'." Hagrid's coarse features fairly glowed with earnestness and enthusiasm. Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Yes, Rubeus, I know I can count on you. This time, however, it's not the potion that needs to be delivered." Hagrid's eyebrows leveled low over his eyes as puzzlement stole across his face. "But yeh said..." Dumbledore waved him silent with a gesture. Snape glowered at the giant and Headmaster alike. He had sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach; he just knew he wasn't going to like what next came out of Dumbledore's mouth. "You see, this time, it is the Potions Master that needs to be delivered." Snape shot out of his chair and plonked his teacup angrily on the Headmaster's ancient desk. "Absolutely out of the question," he snapped, as he fixed the old wizard with the glare he generally reserved for Longbottom on his worst days. Dumbledore gazed calmly back at him, unruffled. "I'm sorry, Severus, but there is no other way." Snape whirled around in a swirl of black robes and started stalking back and forth at a furious pace. "I couldn't possibly leave Hogwarts during the school year. I simply must be here to supervise the students. They seem bent, as usual, on leveling the castle, and it takes an instructor of no little skill to keep them all alive and the building intact." Snape whirled around and fixed the Headmaster with a *significant* stare. "And you need me here for... other things, as well." Hagrid looked a bit outraged that Professor Snape had refused an order from the Headmaster, but Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "I understand your concerns, Severus, truly, but I trust no one but you to do this. Your dedication to your students is admirable," the old wizard said with just a hint of a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "and in your absence, I will see to your classes myself." Snape ground his teeth in silence. He couldn't very well protest the suitability of his substitute, which would have been his first move had the Headmaster not volunteered, himself. Dumbledore continued, seemingly oblivious to Snape's fury. "And as for the other..." he paused. "I thought to give you something of a reprieve, dear boy. You've had a rough go of it recently, and had I not suddenly been presented with this urgent errand, I would've found other ways to confine you to the castle for a the foreseeable future." Snape's jaw worked convulsively. "So I have no choice in this matter?" he bit out. Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Severus." Snape expelled an exasperated breath. "Am I at least allowed to know what fool's errand you're sending me on?" he sniped. The Headmaster suddenly became very interested in his teacup again. Snape cursed inwardly. That was not a good sign. At length, Dumbledore sighed. "I daresay this will not make you any happier, Severus, but please be aware that I wouldn't ask this of you if it weren't absolutely necessary. I need for you to brew a large batch of Wolfsbane." Snape blinked. Was that all? But the Headmaster wasn't finished. "You know, I'm sure, that I have sent Sirius Black and Remus Lupin out to see what allies they can raise for us." Snape nodded shortly. If all that was needed was Remus' monthly dose, surely this silly errand could be accomplished with a few hours in his private laboratory and a round-trip portkey. Wolfsbane, as he recalled, did not respond well to apparition, so a portkey it would have to be. But wait... The full moon was at least two weeks away, and Wolfsbane wasn't stable for that long... Dumbledore spoke up again, having watched Snape's thoughts chase each other across his hawkish face. "Sirius and Remus are currently in America, Severus, and not even I am completely certain where they are. They are traveling cross-country, trying to win support among the American wizards, and I have recently received an owl from them with some very interesting news. Remus, it appears, has stumbled upon a community of werewolves who live and hunt in the wilderness of the American state of Montana. He is confident that he can win the entire pack, which I understand is very extensive, to our side once they see that we can offer them the benefits of the Wolfsbane potion." Dumbledore paused. "Severus, you and Hagrid are going to go find Sirius and Remus, and then you will travel with them to meet these American werewolves. When you make Remus' dose, you will also prepare enough for some 75 additional werewolves." Snape was distracted from his initial instinct to protest anything that put him within a hundred leagues of Sirius Black. "*Seventy-five?!*" he spluttered. "Good Lord, Albus, how in the world do you expect to control 75 Dark creatures on a battlefield where they would naturally ally themselves with the *other side?*" Dumbledore grinned. "Ah, but you see, that's the beauty of it. We only have to keep control of their Alpha. Remus mentioned that the pack was unusually cohesive, both when they're wolves, and when they're humans. Many of the adults are fully-trained wizards in their own right. They follow the guidance of their Alpha with perfect loyalty. Apparently, the man came to meet Remus, himself, when he and Sirius passed through his territory. Remus is of the opinion that he has a good heart and might well choose to fight for the Light of his own accord. The Wolfsbane will simply sweeten the offer and ensure that they are not swayed to the other side, I believe." Severus mulled that over. Seventy-five ferociously strong werewolves, some of them wizards, in exchange for some goblets of smoking potion... Yes, he supposed he could see why Albus wanted him so badly for this errand. Still, though, there were some things that didn't quite compute. "If you only need my potion-making skills, then why must Hagrid come along?" If Snape was going to do this, the last thing he needed to deal with in addition to the insufferable Black was that overgrown conundrum of a Groundskeeper and the swell of uncomfortable and unfamiliar feelings he seemed to inspire. The Headmaster smiled as he reached for another sweet. "Simple. I believe I mentioned that I didn't know precisely where Sirius and Remus are. What better way to find them than to let them come to you? Forgive me, Rubeus, but you're rather hard to miss." The half-giant's ruddy cheeks went a shade darker. "S'alright, sir. Yeh're certainly correct." "There are other reasons, as well. Sirius and Remus are... Well, let's just say that they're undercover. They are hiding out in plain sight, as it were, in a cross-country motorcycle rally," Dumbledore said with obvious amusement. Snape began shaking his head. "You cannot be serious. I refuse. Albus, I utterly refuse to go chasing after Black on a motorbike." Snape forgot to use the more proper forms of address in his indignation. "You still have the one you rode as a youth, I presume?" Snape cleared his throat. "I may have updated to a newer model," he muttered. Dumbledore brightened. "Ah, excellent. Then it only remains to find something suitable for you, Hagrid." Hagrid's great beard pulled up at the corners. "Me, sir? Why, thank yeh, sir. Allus wanted teh own a motorbike, but couldn'a find anything, uh, of a suitable size, yeh might say." "I have just the thing, I think. A bike with the necessary modifications to make it comfortable for you to ride. I presume you have appropriate attire, Hagrid, and can make a few changes to your appearance so that you will blend in a little more?" Hagrid's beard stretched again as he grinned wolfishly. "Tha' I do, sir, and tha' I can." "And you, of course, Severus, I know you would not be without the necessary apparel since you already own a motorbike. If I might suggest, the look you favored in your sixth year as a student might be most appropriate for this particular mission." Snape looked askance at the Headmaster. "What's the matter with my current appearance?" he asked sourly. It was Hagrid who spoke up. "They'll not be takin' yeh seriously if yeh show up to a rally lookin' like tha'," he said bluntly. "Yeh're a skinny bloke, so I'd go with snug leathers. And make yer hair longer; long enough ter tie back in a queue." Snape was all set to put the half-giant back in his place when the Headmaster chimed in. "Yes, I quite concur. You must look the part, Severus. They must take you seriously. They're only Muggles, but where you're going, there will be rather a lot of them, and many won't think anything of using physical force." Snape sneered. "At their peril, Headmaster." Albus smiled. "I'll need to make some modifications to your bike, as well, dear boy." Snape froze. "No. No modifications to my *new* motorbike." "Calm yourself, Severus. I only meant the charms that will enable you to fly it across the ocean and half the North American continent." Snape's jaw dropped. "It was *you* who helped Black charm that ridiculous old Shadow of his," he blurted, shocked that the Headmaster would've had a hand in helping students cast illegal charms on a Muggle motorbike. On second thought, perhaps he wasn't surprised. Black was one of his precious Gryffindors, and therefore exempt from the rules. "Of course I didn't help them. Sirius cast the charms himself with James' and Remus' help. Unbeknownst to any of them, I checked it over afterwards to make sure they wouldn't fall out of the sky. In any event, the end result is that I now know how to cast the necessary charms to make a motorcycle fly." "Very well. Are there any other strictures you intend to place upon me, Headmaster?" Snape growled. "Not yet. Your afternoon classes will be taken care of, Severus. I suggest you use the time to alter your appearance properly and return to your estate to collect your motorbike and any incidentals you will need. And of course, you'll need to collect whatever laboratory supplies you need." Snape considered that and groaned inwardly. He'd need at least four trunks to hold all the ingredients, cauldrons, goblets, and associated potions-making paraphernalia to make enough Wolfsbane for seventy-six werewolves. Thank Merlin for reducing charms. Dumbledore rummaged in a top desk drawer for a moment and retrieved what looked to be a matchbox. "This, I think, will help matters considerably. After all, I don't intend for you to be entirely uncompensated for your efforts on our behalf." Snape scrutinized the small box in his palm, and his eyes widened. "Good God, do you have any idea what this is??" he demanded of his superior. Dumbledore twinkled silently. "A Pàdraig Plenderleath Portable Pilot-Scale Potions Plant! They only made a hundred of these, and they cost the very earth." Snape trailed off. Well. Perhaps this misbegotten quest wasn't going to be a total loss after all. He'd been salivating after one of these for years, but had never been able to find one for sale. Even if he had, it would've wiped out his savings. Snape's lips twitched faintly in an aborted smile. "Well done, Headmaster," he murmured. "This almost makes it worth it." Dumbledore chuckled. "I thought, perhaps, it might. Oh yes, please report to the Hospital Wing when you get back." Severus blinked. "What for, vaccinations?" he quipped. Dumbledore gazed consideringly at his Potions Master, clearly gauging his mood. "Perhaps we'd better deal with that when you return," he finally said. Snape raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Off with you both. I will speak with you again before you depart for America." ...tbc... |