Chapter Text
“Are you having sex with Professor Snape?”
Harry choked on the cockroach cluster he was eating, and started to cough, eyes streaming tears as his face turned from pink, to white, to red, to an unhealthy shade of purple. Dumbledore got up from behind his extraordinarily messy desk and pounded Harry on the back a few times until the obstruction was cleared.
Harry wheezed and, taking a couple of deep, steadying breathes, stammered, “I…I beg your pardon, sir?”
“I asked if you were having sexual intercourse with Professor Snape, Harry. Tall fellow, wardrobe runs to black, tends to scowl a lot?”
“I know who you’re talking about Headmaster, I just don’t understand why you’d even ask me that. I mean, Professor Snape and I, well, we hate each other. And he’s a teacher and I’m a student, and…well, we’re both men sir.” Harry was breathless at the end of his speech.
Dumbledore looked at him in bewilderment. He picked up a silver, palm-sized sphere from his desk, shook it, peered closely at it, looked at Harry again, shook the sphere again, closed one eye and stared at it through his spectacles, looked at Harry a third time, returned the object to his desk and scratched his head in confusion.
He wandered around the room, absent-mindedly chewing on a piece of his beard, hands clasped behind his back.
“Harry my boy.”
“Yes, sir?”
“What’s the date today?”
“It’s Wednesday sir. Wednesday the fourteenth of August.”
“Ah, August!” Dumbledore exclaimed and rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. He gestured towards the door, which opened silently.
“See you in a month,” Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye.