Harry Potter was out of breath, which was bad.
Harry Potter was sinking into quicksand, which was worse.
Harry Potter saw Severus Snape dangling from a tree above him, and he knew true terror.
Adrenalin, when one has cause to need it, is quite good at ridding oneself of pain, and giving yourself a second wind. Which, all in all, was a very good thing for one trainee Harry Potter, as he rolled and doggiepaddled, and otherwise desperately tried to get himself clear of his mentor's wand, all the while Snape made various leaves and sticks around Potter explode. Harry knew this was Snape's way of making this particular torture session... memorable, that if Snape had wanted to, he'd have left Harry Potter for dead, sinking slowly beneath the quicksand. Or if Snape merely wanted to muss his black robes with the brown slithering sands. Snape, even with sweat dripping off his brow, managed to not be a drop more pinked than his normal sallow complexion - and his keen eyes saw everything.
Jogging (he hadn't gotten the hang of Snape's lope) in his sodden robes, Harry wished he had gotten half the cleaning charms that the witches seemed to know automatically. Pity you were trying to not die, hmph! His mind rejoined. Harry was working on targeting, while keeping his shield spell up - while running, of course. Harry Potter would have been tempted to ask, What is the point of all this?, if he wasn't sure that would have Snape chopping him to bits to use for potions ingredients. Patience, if not honey, might bear some fruit... Moments later, all thoughts of Patience had flown out of his mind, just as his breath had flown his body. Owww... that blow to the solar plexus hurt. Just five minutes... Potter thought desperately, and, as is usually the case, managed to pull a moderately daring (if not especially responsible) scheme out of his arse.
"Sir, did you really promise the Weasley twins that if they didn't learn enough, you'd visit such dastardly pranks on their heads that they'd nevermore rise from shame?"
"Close enough, Potter." Snape said, eyeing Harry Potter with a keenness that assured Harry that he wasn't getting away with anything that Snape didn't want him to get away with. "Time was, I was quite good at pranks. A matter of survival, you understand, with the Marauders about - gave them a bit of a reason to be cautious, it did." Harry Potter listened quietly, wondering if he had managed to pick up any of Snape's listening intensity. "You don't believe me, do you, Potter?" Snape said, his voice cooling slightly.
"Sirius... Lupin never mentioned a thing about it, sir." Harry Potter said softly, careful to not sound defiant - the care making his voice sound more hesitant than anything.
"They wouldn't, not on their life." Severus Snape said, a strong sense of satisfaction purring through his low voice. "Blinky! The Royal file if you please." A moment later, there was a Tyrian Purple folder in his hand, and he flipped it, opening it so that all the photographs were facing down. "Pick a picture, any picture."
"You took photographs, sir?" Harry said, looking at Severus Snape warily. He selected a photograph that showed Potter and Sirius with pacifiers in their mouths, trying to hide what looked like enormous boners (probably magically enhanced, Potter thought to himself) inside the diapers they were currently wearing.
"The Marauders were always showing off to each other, Potter. They never had the need. But, as you might imagine, my friends tended to be a trifle more serious. So I took photographs to remember the sense of victory. Besides, who really wanted to be lectured on just retribution?" Snape's voice didn't change in the slightest, and yet by intonation and speed alone, he achieved a completely different feel to his voice. "Severus, you can't keep going after them! You're just encouraging them to come up with more vile pranks! They're in my house for god's sake, I know them well enough to know that!" Harry Potter fought down a smirk at the tone, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head at the idea of Snape, of all people, having a friend in Gryffindor. At least it wasn't Pettigrew, Harry was sure. Who was he? Potter thought, and then shook his head. Ask later.
"On your feet, Potter," Snape snapped and Harry sprung to his feet, "Breaktime's over, now let's make sure you earn it." And three spells shot out at Potter from three different directions - he nearly turned himself into a pretzel while dodging, only to be hit from one directly above him. It burned a bit, but not too much. "Faster," Snape cried, and the hunt was on.
[a/n: you are free to imaging Potter feeding Snape honey in any way that you see fit. Personally, I see Snape demanding an apple from Potter (who is by the fruitbowl), and Potter tossing it through a bowl of honey, neatly bouncing it into Snape's hand. "Sorry, sir, it bounced." Or, I suppose, you could imagine something far more salacious.
I refuse to believe that Minerva McGonagall would have seriously let four kids bully one for seven years without finding some just retribution. It's a lot harder for her to justify coming down like bricks on her own students, if one Severus Snape is actively involved in incitement to fighting.
Not covered here (because potter forgot to ask) - the worst Prank Snape has ever pulled - dosing Sirius Black in the scent of a bitch in heat. Right before the full moon too. It wasn't the sex that was bad, it was Remus walking around dragging Sirius behind afterwards, as they were still connected. No, Snape doesn't have pictures of this - it was purely fortuitous coincidence that led that particular prank to work out so badly for poor, dear Black.
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