The Pie Dare by Hopeless Wanderer

It's just a game. It's also going to be his first and last time playing it. Although he doesn't know that yet.

They're tired, having been to a grueling Quidditch practice beforehand, and sat through a tough charms exam previous to the following, so they're completely beat, Ron is so tired that he looks like he's about to drop down and crawl the rest of the way to their dorm. Harry isn't much better himself.

Seamus, upon seeing the two drag themselves to the dorms looks up from the book open on his lap. "You two look like shit,"

"Thanks," Harry grumbles, peeling the sweaty uniform with slow, lethargic movements. He hates it when they cling to him like this. The smell is awful. Rotten fish and boiled spinach served in a filthy platter probably smelled better than two sweaty teenage boys.

"Did Angelina run you over with a herd of Hippogriffs? 'Cause you certainly smell like it," Seamus goes on with a poorly concealed snort and Ron scoffs.

"You're hilarious." he deadpans, haggling with his own gear. Harry cannot wait until they can go under the shower and temporarily die, enough to be able to sit at dinner tonight. Homework be damned.

"Ai, don't be mad! We're all mates here, Ronnie." He's outright laughing now. "If it's any consolation Harry smells worse."

"Where's Dean?" Harry asks as he heads for the bathroom. "You're usually not like this when he's around,"

The Irish boy easily shrugs, leaning back against the headboard. "He's fetching a bottle," he says and throws his book away, flinging it all the way to Neville's bed.

The two boys pause by the bathroom doors.

"A bottle?" Ron asks, his eyebrows rising.

"Yeah! We're playing a muggle game!" He sounds awfully excited. "I was just gonna ask you guys if you wanted to join! It's not really a two man's game."

"And it has a bottle in it?" Ron continues in puzzlement and Seamus vigorously nods.

That sounds awfully familiar, Harry thinks, before it clicks. "Truth or Dare," Harry says and then groans. "That's not going to end well,"

"Why not?" Seamus asks.

"Well, something always goes wrong. I used to watch people play it in school before," the worst had been Charlie Blake licking the gritty playground on a dare and then missing out school for a week as a result. Harry, as a mere spectator to the fatal game that broke up friendships and knocked people over left and right, found it highly irresponsible even at that age.

Magic wasn't part of the equation before.

"I wanna try it anyway, Dean says it's fun!" Seamus happily flops down, crossing his arms behind his neck.

"Count me in too," Ron says as he heads to the showers. "I want to unwind a bit, after I'm done cursing Angelina,"

Harry shrugs in agreement and ducks under the shower himself, and by the time he and Ron have enough energy to crawl back out of the bathroom, Dean, Neville, and Seamus are already sitting cross legged on the ground, an empty butterbeer bottle, lying in the middle as Dean explains the game.

"So either I pick Truth and answer honestly, or I do something stupid?" Neville says as Ron-and inadvertently Harry- join the small group.

Dean hums with a shrug. "Basically yeah,"

"Well, I know what I'm gonna choose," Neville says with conviction as Ron demands another rundown of the rules. By the time they're ready to play, even a hesitant Harry is feeling a bit excited.

"I'll spin the bottle first then," Dean says and spins the bottle with practiced ease. It ends up pointing to Neville.

"Truth or Dare, Neville?" Dean asks with a grin. He's already having fun, Harry realises with a grin of his own.

"Truth, always truth," the other boy stammers and Dean hums.

"Who do you always fancy being your first kiss?" Neville immediately starts flushing and sputtering.

"Wh-what?"

"Come on, mate," Seamus claps his back. "Everyone has got one. So, who's yours?"

Neville looks as if he's severely regretting his decision. "Um-No one,"

Dean groans. "You chose truth, Nev. You cannot lie,"

Neville stammers for a bit more, buries his beet red face in his hands, and finally after minutes of prodding he squeaks a name. Seamus leans in closer.

"What was that, mate?" he asks.

Neville clears his throat. "Luna,"

"Lovegood?" Seamus whistles. "Ohhh, you have game!"

"It's not like that!" Neville cries, and as if that was possible flushes vermilion.

"Sure, sure," Dean waves him off with a smirk. "Your turn to spin the bottle,"

Neville does so with less grace, and the bottle tumbles a few times before the end points at Ron.

Ron's grin expands across his entire face as he looks at Neville.

"Truth or Dare, Ron?" Neville asks, fidgeting.

"Dare!" Ron readily answers and the others voice their boisterous agreements. Harry watches on with a mixture of dread and amusement, although he is fairly sure that Neville wouldn't be able to conjure anything too awful.

"I dare you to… erm…" the boy looks around for inspiration. "Cram ten chocolate frogs in your mouth at the same time,"

Harry cheers along with Dean and Seamus as they scramble around the dorm to find said ten chocolate frogs. It's fairly easy, since each boy has at least a few lying about, and Dean had one hidden in his trunk.

Ron takes a deep breath, eyeing the pile of chocolate frogs with determination. All three boys hold their breath as the red haired boy unwraps the first one and quickly crams it in his mouth, quickly followed by two more. Ron's cheeks are like a chipmunk's as he stuffs one after the other, the charmed frogs are squirming in his mouth and kicking the inside of his cheeks, as Harry and Dean are cheering him on. Ron has to raise his chin to prevent any breakouts.

"You go Ron!"

"Five more to go!"

Ron's reply is an inarticulate groan. His mouth is simply too full to speak coherently.

The sixth wouldn't fit in no matter what, and with a defeatist groan around the dorm, Ron finally yields.

"Good job, Neville," Harry tells the grinning boy as they settle back down on the floor, Ron is trying to drown the remaining frogs squirming in his mouth with water and Dean assists by holding the pitcher.

"Alright Ron, you spin that bottle!" The red head gulps down the last mouthful of his drink and then grabs the bottle. The end points to Harry at last. For the first time ever, since kindergarten, he's not just an onlooker anymore, and an actual participant.

Something sparkly and warm fills his chest and Harry grins.

Ron points at Dean to take over. "Truth or Dare, Harry?" Dean asks and Harry's heart does a small dance against his lungs.

He takes a deep breath. "Dare," he says without really thinking it over.

The room cheers and Dean hums. "Hmm, let's see," he says and Seamus rubs his hands together in anticipation of something that most undoubtedly is going to be hilarious.

"Something that has Snape in it!" Seamus suggests and Neville pales a little.

"Are we sure--"

"Smack Snape in the face with a pie!" Dean exclaims and Harry’s face morphs into a horrified expression. All boys except for Neville and Harry break out into joyous yells. Harry's previously racing heart plummets down in his chest.

"No no no!" he says.

"Yes!" Seamus cries at the same time.

"It's going to be priceless!"

"Guys, I cannot do that," Harry sounds faint even to his own ears, even the mere idea of hitting Snape with a pie is enough to send him on the verge of a heart attack. The man would outright kill him.

"It'll work out perfectly," Dean continues. "Tomorrow at lunch? I bet there's going to be pumpkin pies. Last week it was apples."

"Guys you don't understand-" Harry tries again.

Seamus interrupts him. "And in front of everyone?"

"Do you guys want Harry to die?" Neville asks with horror, bringing the chattering boys to a halt.

"Of course not," Ron says at once. "It's just a dare Neville. Fred and George have done worse and gotten away with it,"

"But this is Snape!" Neville cries, and if Harry wasn't so mortified, he would have actually been impressed with his friend standing up for himself.

"He's not a monster, Neville," Dean says, a bit more composed and calmer. He sneaks a glance at a mute Harry. "He cannot really harm Harry. Besides, we never said he has to know it was Harry who did it."

Harry, irrationally calms down a bit with those words but is still largely hesitant. "They're going to reduce so many points, though," he weakly points out.

"From which house?" Ron shrugs. "If he doesn't know it's you, he cannot really do anything about it. He takes enough points in his class anyway."

"Hermione is going to skin you, if she finds out," Harry says and Ron gulps before straightening his shoulders.

"She won't find out until after it's done." he says. "I bet she can do with a laugh herself,"

And it's at that point that Harry realises that it's set in stone.

He has to hit Snape in the face with a pie.

He realises, perhaps a bit belatedly that night in his bed, that he absolutely hates truth and Dare.

***

"He's been through a whole stack of parchments since yesterday," Ron snickers at breakfast Monday morning, he's unusually chirpy. "He's breaking Hermione's record,"

Hermione, who has her nose in a thick leather bound book, quirks her eyebrow with a huff. "This is the most ridiculous thing I've heard of," she says, looking right at Harry, who is trying, in vain, to disappear inside his porridge. "You cannot really be thinking of going through with this," she found out over the weekend, and has already made her case very clear regarding the matter.

Harry agrees with her, but he also doesn't want to be the one person who's a wussie. He wants to be included in these games, this is the first time he's been looped into these stuff, and if smacking Snape with a pie would help, then he might as well give it a shot. Besides, Snape had had it coming for a long time.

"Projectile Pie 02 begs to differ," Ron says with a grin, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Some of his ideas are really good,"

"It's gonna be brilliant," Seamus says, exuberantly. He looks positively beatific. "Imagine the bat's face, dripping with cherry filling, oh mate."

"It's just a dare, Harry," Hermione says. "You don't have to do it. Don't bow down to peer pressure,"

"She's right," Dean drops in. "Unless you want your name to end up in history books for centuries to come ; Harry Potter, the boy who smacked Snape with a pie,"

"But I am in history books," Harry mutters. Not that he's thrilled about it either.

"For something worthwhile," Dean rolls his eyes and then sighs at the others' raised brows. "Alright. But accept it, guys… this could easily come second to defeating you know who as a baby,"

"I think the poltergeist plan was nice enough," Ron shrugs.

Neville frowns, his fork stuck midair. "If it's a dare, shouldn't he do it alone?"

"Neville!" Harry snaps, but then sighs. "You guys are the worst."

"Admit it though, you want to see it just as badly." Harry grudgingly nods and finishes his porridge with a resolute frown.

The snitch pie operation is a go...as soon as he figures out how to attach a pie to a snitch.

By Tuesday everyone in the Gryffindor common room is in on it.

**

Severus is having an awful week.

Dealing with children on a daily basis, is enough of a souring factor on itself, as it varies in degree, depending on whether he's dealing with homesick, sniffling eleven year olds who cannot even hold a quill, to hormone driven teenagers just looking for a dark empty nook to get on second base with one of their peers.

It's not that he despises his job that badly, in fact, Severus cannot imagine himself doing anything else for a living. Brewing potion is an integral part of him, and he really does consider every moment over his cauldrons one of revelry.

The problem, at the moment, is Potter.

When isn't he the problem? Severus rolls his eyes, rolling his quill between his fingers as he peers down on Potter's chicken scratch handwriting.

He's up to something, Severus just knows it. There's always something up with the boy, be it fighting a Troll, or subduing snakes or wrestling werewolves, there is always something. Snape has been waiting for the next disaster to unfold, as he has done every year, biding his time, and scrutinising the boy for any signs of trouble.

As a former spy, he's rather proud to admit that the task isn't usually difficult for him. Potter is hilariously unaware of how clumsy and obvious he is with his advances. The fact that he's still alive is by sheer miracle, and Snape's frugal efforts.

This time though, instead of the boy stumbling into a shoe too large for his size, Potter doesn't seem to be endangered by an extraneous force. He seems to be the one causing the problem, himself.

Just yesterday evening he had caught the brat sneaking around his office at night, nearly an hour after curfew. When questioned, the brat simply mumbled something about 'losing his homework'. Severus, of course, saw it fit to assign him a detention.

He had dealt with pranksters for nearly a decade, with Potter's father and his cronies being the main subject of interest. That brat was up to something, just like his father, and Severus couldn't wait to exploit his plans, and sit him back down in his place.

On Tuesday, at dinner, Potter cannot stop staring at him. In fact, the whole Gryffindor table seems to be skulking Severus with wide eyes, their mouths rapidly working the food but their eyes more or less remaining on the stoic man. It gets severe enough that Minerva brings it up during the desert.

"Have you done something?" She asks, and Severus scowls, glowering back at Potter.

"Your students are the ones ogling me, Minerva," That fool Thomas can't stop sniggering, Severus notes with a hint of anger. He'll be sure to deal with the smug Gryffindor tomorrow in his class.

"Well you look normal to me," she says, her eyes dart from her table to Severus several times before suspiciously digging into her chocolate pudding. Severus does the same to his strawberry shortbread.

"Severus I swear, if you've dosed my students with one of these potions of yours--"

"Poison them?" he sneers. "Rest assured, Minerva, I wouldn't waste a single drop of my precious ingredients on these brats,"

Granger huffs at those around her, and the Weasley twins snicker. Only Longbottom and the Weasley girl aren't staring at him.

"That doesn't make a strong case, Severus," Flitwick tunes in from his right and he stifles a groan. Oh, how he hates socialising.

"I'm not overly concerned with the moral aspects of me drugging my students," he says to the man. "Seeing as I didn't do it." he reaches for his goblet then, this time with the sneer directed at the children. "It must be a new trick of theirs,"

Flitwick hums and Minerva rolls her eyes.

"Not everything is a conspiracy, Severus." The woman replies in an overly exaggerated tone. Albus having just finished his own bowl of ice cream leans toward the two teachers.

"Quite so, Minerva," he says with the known twinkle in his eyes. "I would have kept an eye on the twins, of course."

Not the twins. Severus corrects inwardly. Potter.

It's Wednesday morning that truly proves to be the fatal shot. He had slept adequately the night before, given Potter a Troll on his latest essay without bothering to decipher the boy's illegible handwriting and even had ventured into the land of carelessness by trying out a new brew he has been eyeing for a while. It worked out wonderfully, and Severus had stayed awake until the Witching Hour to compile his notes into his potions journal.

Wednesday morning is cursed from the start.

He wakes up, groggy and nursing a headache. He pads to his bathroom, hastily charms his robes on and then fixes his face into a firm glare in front of his mirror before stepping out of his quarters. He needs tea.

Severus ignores the usual morning chitter chatter from his colleagues and blubbering students as he settles in in his seat. He reaches for the tea pot first, mentally recounting his lesson plans for the first class he has this morning. Second year Hufflepuffs. One small shout and nearly half of them end up in tears, they're the perfect dull continuation to Severus's already dull morning.

He fills his tea cup, and notes the presence of a raspberry pie platter not far away from his reach, he hesitates for a beat, contemplating the sugary treat with the teapot poised midair in his hand, and finally decides that he deserves it for last night's accomplishment.

He reaches for the pie, and is so consumed by his muddled thoughts, that he doesn't hear the initial buzz in the air that rises above the morning blabber. It's only when Draco Malfoy’s distinct voice shouts "Merlin's saggy chin!" before Severus bothers looking up, his mouth opening to rebuke his godson for his unbecoming words, and just as the words are forming in his mouth there's a loud 'SPLASH'. right into his face.

The string aroma of raspberry and the sticky pie filling is the first thing that Severus registers, before the pie platter itself stops flying into his face, and the wings die down with a final buzz, the platter slides off his face with s disgusting 'SPLAT' and the entire Hall is silent.

Severus blinks, his mouth closing as he swallows the bits of pie that had landed in his mouth. Ernie Mcmillan, that little twerp is the first one who laughs, the boy gasps, howling with laughter and is soon joined by the rest of the students, all snorting and wriggling in their seats, red in the face.

Severus stares at them in complete silence, surveying each face, and burning it to his memory until his eyes settle on Potter, whom unlike every other student- Granger doesn’t count - looks terrified.

The staff makes a few half hearted gestures to quieten the students to no avail, but Severus isn't really counting on any of them. He's an adult now. He's a teacher. And he will not be bested by Potter's brat.

He stands, without bothering to wipe the pie off his face, and calmly rounds the table, the laughter suddenly dies as he makes his way to the Gryffindor table. His hand darts between two Ravenclaws to snatch a plate of said pie, and he continues, stoically making his way to a shrinking Potter.

The boy pales, his face the colour of chalk, and the surrounding students quickly slide away from him, comically leaving the boy exposed as Severus approaches with the plate balanced perfectly in his hand.

Potter opens his mouth to protest but Severus is faster, the man swiftly hits Potter with the pie, before he stands back. The plate clatters down Potter's astonished face, now harboring a similar purple tinge and bits of raspberry paste.

Severus Snape, stares at him, calmest crossing his arms.

"Seventy points from Gryffindor, Potter. And you owe me a pie,"

Potter hangs his head down in defeat, Snape's lip quirks.

He doesn't despise his job at all, Severus realises with a tiny shrill of mirth. He loves it.