Author's Note: The ominous first chapter, of a multi-chaptered fic. I must ask you all to please bear with me with this one, since I really had no idea where I was going with it when it was written. I had not yet figured out the style in which I wanted the story to be written in, and this first bit seems a bit awkward to me. However, I do already have the second chapter written, and trust me - it is far better than the one I present you with now. This story is in fact slash, and will containe both Harry/Draco, and Harry/Severus, however the main goal of this story will be the Harry/Severus, and that will eventually be the main pairing.
If I see that anyone is interested in me continuing with this story, I will post the second chapter accordingly, and hopefully more to come after that. I thank you all for bearing with me through this one, and promise you better writing is on the horizon for this piece. As always, flames will be used to toast marshmallows.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fic, nor do I own Harry Potter or Warner Bros. I am not affiliated with J.K. Rowling, nor do I make any money from this.
"Harry," Draco's smooth voice ran over him like a splash of cold water, "Sit with me this morning."
Harry's gaze flicked over to the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy was sitting near the end, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle on either side. He noted that the blonde's gaze was trained on him intently, as if gauging Harry's reaction to his invitation to sit with him at the Slytherin table.
Of course, this was not a usual occurrence, and thus, nearly every eye from both the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables were trained on Harry as he turned on his heel and made his way back towards the table with the green trim. Harry could feel his cheeks pinking from the sudden attention he and Draco had drawn to themselves, and his books nearly tumbled from his arms as he hurried his way towards the blonde, not missing the scathing looks that Crabbe and Goyle shot him as he plopped his books down, tipping a plate of bacon as well.
Although obviously not happy with the arrangement, a very angry looking Goyle slid away from Draco, making room for Harry to sit when his eyes fell upon him expectantly. It was obvious that they were not pleased with sharing their table with Draco's new boyfriend, no matter how much they respected him and ultimately did as he said. To be frank, none of the Slytherin's were all that pleased with the arrangement – the fact that Draco was dating a Gryffindor, a male Gryffindor, was enough to rile them, but the fact that this particular Gryffindor happened to be Harry bloody Potter only helped to seal the deal.
"None of them seem very happy that I'm sitting here," Harry muttered under his breath, his emerald gaze clashing with Draco's light grey one, "And not just the Slytherins – the Gryffindors too, I mean, look at them...if looks could kill, Ron'd have already offed me by now!"
Draco merely rolled his eyes, gesturing towards Harry with a toast-laden hand, "They need to get used to this, Harry," He stated, his voice low, a soothing tone present, "Even that foul red-headed friend of yours. I don't want anyone thinking you're free and moving in on my territory." He said this with a joking air, toast crumbs sprinkling Harry's robe's, but there was a hint of possessiveness in his voice. Harry Potter was his, and he wanted every damn Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to be aware of the fact.
Harry smiled thinly, tendrils of unruly black hair falling across his eyes as he looked down towards his lap and brushed the crumbs off with a light sweep. "I suppose," he admitted, realizing a clean plate had materialized before him – very accommodating, that – and quickly spilling some eggs and sausages onto it. He speared one of the latter with a fork fiercely, gazing back up at Draco with a calculating gaze, "But you know, we've been going together for at least three weeks now, and I mean, you've never invited me to sit at the Slytherin table with you before..." He blushed a bit, stuffing the sausage into his mouth before he said anything else foolish.
To his surprise, Draco merely looked thoughtful at this. Normally, any mention of the oddity of their relationship, even a small thing such as dining at different House tables, would set the boy off. "I didn't really consider it," he watched Harry chewing his over-sized mouthful with a slight sneer, "But I guess if we're going to be serious about this whole courtship, then we have to start acting like it." Draco finished, sounding a bit stuffed and pompous about the whole business. Courtship, indeed. Harry rolled his eyes, a bit of sausage falling out one side of his mouth. Draco stared, looking rather nauseated. "You know, Potter," he started, in a swift change of subject, "I wouldn't have invited you at all if I'd know what horrid table manners you had."
Harry found himself flushing for the second time that morning, then he went a bit pale at the look that had just manifested itself in his boyfriend's eyes. "You – you aren't mad, are you?" He asked, licking his lips and twisting a handful of robes. He could see Crabbe and Goyle watching their conversation with increasing interest, although how much they understood of it remained to be seen. Harry watched Draco's sallow cheeks take on a faint tinge themselves, and his expression closed itself off. Harry winced, knowing he shouldn't have asked if Draco was angry with him – it only ever seemed to make things worse, after all...
"Of course not, Harry. Don't be a git." Draco suddenly stood from the table, his black robes swishing around his legs as he stepped around the bench and away from the table. He grabbed his bag up from the stone floor and turned back towards Harry, "Care of Magical Creatures, today," He said briskly, grabbing Harry by the hand and hauling him up. Harry quickly nicked a piece of toast from the table, his mind swimming as Draco pulled him out of the Great Hall and out the front doors, down to where Hagrid's hut was situated on the grounds.
Harry gave a small sigh as he trailed after Draco, looking over his shoulder to see Ron and Hermione just leaving the castle, looking at him with half betrayed, half sad eyes, while he and Draco were already halfway across the grounds. He munched silently on his toast, annoyed with the fact that Draco refused to ever let him walk with Ron and Hermione to class anymore. Even when they didn't sit together – which up until now, had been everyday – Draco came and collected him from the Gryffindor table, and they went down to Care of Magical Creatures before anyone else had even finished eating. Of course, he could never mention it to Draco – that was simply something Harry didn't do, bring up complaints with their...relationship, to the pinch-faced boy.
Harry started as he felt a thin, cool hand wrap around his own, and he looked up to meet Draco's equally cool grey gaze. He shivered a bit, then twined his fingers with the Slytherin's, hoping Draco wouldn't be too angry later about his manners at breakfast that morning...
.:::.
"Curious, is it not, Severus?" Minerva's voice interrupted Severus's thoughts, as he stared down at his bowl of oatmeal, twirling a spoon in his right hand.
He looked up suddenly, surprised that someone was speaking to him. He gave a slight sigh of irritation, perfect, just what I need, the Gryffindor Head of House interrupting my breakfast, and sneered at Minerva McGonagall, black gaze settling on her.
She seemed not to notice the fierce sneer, or simply did not care, for she continued on with what she had been saying, as if Severus had asked her to clarify what she meant, "Young Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter, of course. Curious match, indeed," she mused, smiling a bit to herself and folding her wrinkled hands into her lap, "I certainly would not have seen that one coming, myself."
"Quite." As if I care.
"Really, Gryffindors and Slytherins are a bit alike in some of their more subtle traits," she said softly, almost to herself, but Severus caught it. And he did not like it. Honestly – Slytherin's and Gryffindor's were about as alike as night and day. And night and day were pretty damn different, if you ask him. Of course, McGonagall, could not hear his thoughts, and she continued anyway, "I mean, look at them. They seem quite happy."
Against Severus's will, his black gaze focused on the Slytherin table, interested in the fact that there was currently a Gryffindor Golden Boy among his Slytherins.
He was only a bit startled, and slightly nauseated, when his star pupil, and devoted prefect, Draco Malfoy took Harry Potter by the hand and tugged him up from the table. How Malfoy could even stand to touch Potter, he could not quite figure out. Severus was painfully aware of the how close the Malfoy family and the Dark Lord were – the greatest dream of Lucius was to deliver Potter to his Lord, after all...
The entire relationship between Potter and Malfoy was strange, and absurd, Severus decided. He could see no reason Malfoy would want to court the Gryffindor for anything other than personal gain, and he was a bit befuddled as to why the boy hadn't already figured this out. Of course, Severus was not a spy for nothing, and he naturally fell host to a very suspicious and calculating demeanor.
Severus narrowed his eyes as the pair left the Great Hall, no lack of attention upon them. There were so many reasons Malfoy could be playing this game with Potter that he couldn't even begin to name them all. He would bet his wand that the whole thing had something to do with Lucius, however. But of course, it is not my place to butt into young love... he sneered, aware that Minerva was observing this play of emotions on his face with a certain measure of confusion.
"I know you are probably not overly pleased with my comparison, Severus," she rambled on, mistaking his sneer at the couple that had just left the Great Hall for something else entirely, "But surely you can admit -"
Severus let his spoon fall to the table with a clatter, and he stood up abruptly, already tiring of his colleague's running of the mouth. "Minerva, as much as I'd like to continue this enlightening conversation -" sneer "I really must be going. Things to attend to."
Severus caught McGonagall's irritated glare before stepping down from the Head Table and making his way out of the staff's side door, leaving in an impressive flourish of robes.
.:::.
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table for lunch that afternoon, right after a vigorous hour and a half of Care of Magical Creatures. Today had been lab in Hagrid's class, and of course Harry had been part of the demonstrations with the current evil beasts of Hagrid's choosing. No matter how much Harry would have liked to decline to help with the class, he simply could not say no to Hagrid. It was a major fault of Harry's – not being able to say no.
As he shoveled a large mouthful of bread pudding, dribbling a bit down his chin, Harry caught Hermione staring at him from across the table. "What'z it?" He asked in a garbled voice, stilling his fork for the first time since he'd sat down.
"Oh, nothing."
Harry narrowed his eyes. He could tell when Hermione was lying – it wasn't hard when she was giving him The Look. "Out with it, Hermione, I can tell there's something up."
Hermione glanced at Ron, who just gave her a confused look in return. "It's just, since you've started...dating Draco, we haven't been spending much time together." She pursed her lips, "The only time we see you is at meals now. We don't work together in class anymore, or walk together..."
"She's got a point, mate," Ron interjected, gesturing with his fork, nodding, "since all this started with that bloke, you haven't even been my partner in Potions. Right sad, that is."
"I'll walk with you today."
Hermione beamed. "Oh, great Harry, great, we haven't been spending nearly enough time together, truly..." Ron rolled his eyes, and a small smile twisted Harry's lips at his friend's gushing.
"Imagine we should get our arses out of here before Malfoy catches you, though." Ron frowned.
"Oh...yeah..." Well, you can't back out now, not after you told them you would...surely Draco wouldn't get so angry over something so small.
Unfortunately, Harry was having trouble even convincing himself of this.
.:::.
All through Transfiguration, Harry could feel Draco's eyes on him. I should have waited for him today. I know I should have – it was stupid to think he wouldn't be angry with me.
Ron and Hermione watched Harry all through the lesson with concerned eyes, noticing how he fumbled with his wand multiple times under the intense stare Malfoy was shooting him from across the room. It obviously flustered Professor McGonagall, since she looked between Harry and Malfoy with a suspicious glare, sniping at Harry's every mistake. Which only served to make him more nervous.
At the end of the class, Harry hastened to gather his books, shoving his wand into his pocket and following Ron and Hermione to the door. Before he could reach it, he felt a strong hand close firmly about his shoulder, halting his progress as his palm lay on the wooden door.
"Potter," Draco's voice was crisp, and Harry's heart sank to his knees, "Can I have a word with you?" The Slytherin gave Ron and Hermione a scathing look, "Alone."
"Harry, we can -"
"I'll see you guys at dinner. Later."
"Alright, mate..." Ron looked uncomfortable for a moment, before Hermione took a hold of the sleeve of his robe and pulled him out the door and down the hallway, shooting one last worried glance at Harry. None of them knew how Draco could be.
Noticing that they had attracted Minerva McGonagall's unwavering attention now, Draco glowered and grabbed Harry's arm roughly, pulling him out the door and down the hallway, shoes smacking against the stones with terrible finality.
"In here." Harry shied away from Draco's cold tone, as the blond thrust him into the empty Charms classroom. Harry stumbled, still able to feel Draco's bruising grip on his arm, wincing a bit as he knocked into a desk. He knew that the dull pain in his arm would not be the worst thing he felt tonight.
As if in testament to these thoughts, Draco's eyes narrowed and he stalked forward towards Harry, making the shorter boy back farther into the desk, "What were you thinking?" He asked, voice cold and measured, "You left today. Left the Great Hall – without myself, I might add."
Harry blinked, searching for an excuse, anything to make Draco back away, "Draco, I-"
"Shut up. I don't care. There is no reason you couldn't have waited for me." A sneer twisted the boy's lips, and Harry shivered, "You don't do that, Harry. You don't leave without me." He raised his hand and smacked Harry hard across the face, "You don't make me feel like an a complete arsehole when I go over to the Gryffindor table to collect your sorry self and you aren't there."
"I'm sorry, really, I-I am, I didn't mean-" Harry's explanation was cut short by another sharp slap to the face, this one knocking him off his feet and slamming him back into the desk. Harry let out a cry as the wood pushed into his back unforgivably, and he slid to the stone floor. His head felt like it was about to explode.
Harry felt Draco grab the front of his robes roughly, pulling him back up to face him. "Sorry are you?" His words were clipped, "I want to make sure you don't pull something like that again, Potter." Draco flexed his fingers, and Harry shrunk back, turning his face away from what he knew was coming. You owe this to him, a voice in the back of his mind said, after what he did for you...you owe him...
Harry distinctly felt the skin over his cheek bone split as Draco's fist connected. He was used to this. He could do this – this wasn't something new. It had been like this since the first day he and Draco had started dating. Harry let his body go limp, trusting the grip Draco had on the front of his robes was enough to keep him upright. Not that it much mattered. Even if he did crumple to the floor, Draco would keep coming at him, those pale knuckles stained red with his blood reminding him of everything he'd done wrong.
Smack. Harry's body crumpled to a heap on the floor after only two or three more hits – he had lost count – and he realized Draco had let go of his robe's. It wasn't that bad tonight, he thought, staring up at his boyfriend with tired eyes. Draco leered at him, rubbing his hands on his black trousers, knowing from experience the blood wouldn't show up.
"Let that be a lesson to you about making a fool of me, Harry." Draco threw that over his shoulder as he walked out of the room, leaving Harry in a heap on the floor.
He stood up shakily, straightening his robes and reaching a hand up to dab uselessly at his face. He could feel the cuts there, the broken skin, and knew no simple healing charm would close them. It wasn't as if he could run to Madame Pomfrey and ask for a quick healing – how could he explain what happened?
Harry could just see it, Gee Madam Pomfrey, I don't know what happened. I just woke up with these gashes across my face. The mere absurdity of it made him give a snort of disdain. He couldn't do anything to fix the situation he was in – he couldn't even tell anyone what Draco was doing to him, for more reasons than one. Other than the fact that he owed himself to the blonde-haired boy because of - no, best not think about that. Harry just could not own up to the fact that he was trapped tightly in this relationship. How was that even fathomable? That the Boy Who Lived, future savior of the wizarding world, would simply fall to the ground when his boyfriend hit him and pray that the floor would swallow him up. It seemed his life was spinning out of control.
No. That was not acceptable for the Boy Who Lived.
But what is acceptable, Harry thought as he quickly pulled the hood of his robe over his head, is a glamour charm. I can easily cast it on the worst spots on my face and eyes for a day or so...
Harry opened the door to the Charms classroom with a small creaking noise, and shuffled his way out. He hoped everyone would still be at lunch so that he could make his way quickly over to the Prefects bathroom on the third floor and sneak in.
"Pine fresh!" He rasped out the password, half shocked to learn that it was still in use from two years ago. A spot of luck in one otherwise very unlucky day.
Harry stumbled through the door, and strode quickly across the vast bathroom to the sinks, above them long rows of mirrors. He reached up and gently tugged the over-large hood of his robes down to his shoulders. He grimaced at his reflection, clutching at the edges of the stone sink, leaning onto it wearily. His eyes shone dimly out of his pallid face, skin marred with bruises and crimson blood. A particularly deep cut in the soft skin under his eye oozed blood sluggishly. He gave it a soft prod with his index finger, wincing.
The scar on his forehead stood out red and swollen, as if to remind Harry that taking a beating from Malfoy was the least of his problems. That he should be thankful for those beatings, because it could be worse.
Harry let out a strangled sob and bent his head, slamming his fist hard into the side of the sink. He felt some of the small bones in his hand give a satisfying crack and he smiled scornfully. Pain not caused by anyone else. It was a welcome alternative to feeling out of control of his own life, even if he would regret the outburst later. Breaking his right hand was not one of the more intelligent things he had ever done.
Harry pulled out his wand with his left hand, holding his other hand awkwardly against his chest. Time to do what he had come in here for. He couldn't very well go wandering around the castle looking like he'd been trampled by an angry hippogriff, now could he?
He cast a careful glamour over his face, tweaking it in spots so that the tingly magic covered the worst bits more fully. When Harry was done, he felt like he was wearing a mask. It hurt under the glamour where Draco had hit him, but when he looked at himself, the damage was not visible.
Harry let himself have this small moment of triumph before he adjusted his robes, flinching as he bumped his hand again. Got to be more careful with that, he thought absently as he made his way down to the Great Hall, knowing Draco would be expecting him to show up. The blonde always expected him to deal with whatever injuries were inflicted on him quickly and move on, acting as if nothing had happened. Over the last three months of mopping himself up one minute, and kissing Draco in the hallway the next, Harry figured he'd gotten pretty adept at this.
Not that that's a good thing, he mused, taking his newfound seat to Draco's right at the Slytherin table, but it's certainly a necessity.
.:::.
"What is wrong with the boy's hand?" Severus's mouth fell open as soon as the words left his mouth, appalled. He hadn't meant to ask that out loud.
Minerva peered at him quizzically over her spectacles, putting a measured forkful of chicken into her mouth. "I'm not really sure," she answered him slowly, putting down her utensils and gazing down at the Gryffindor table, searching. Obviously not finding what she was looking for, her gaze ratcheted to the Slytherins and she pursed her lips. "I really hadn't noticed."
Severus grunted in response, feeling foolish for having paid more attention to Potter than his Head of House had. He consoled himself by the thought that Potter was currently stationed at the Slytherin table, and wasn't it his job to keep watch over the Slytherins?
So with that thought planted firmly in his head, he continued to observe Potter and Malfoy. For some reason, Potter seemed to be stiff around the Slytherin, visibly flinching every time Malfoy laid those cool eyes on him. Although the change was noticeable to him, Malfoy didn't seem to notice any change in his boyfriend's demeanor, and if he did, he did not seem to care.
Severus still found himself fascinated with the fact that Malfoy was Potter's chosen companion – did he not understand that the boy's father wanted him dead? Surely that topic had come up. Although Severus had not gotten wind of any elaborate plans by the Death Eaters involving Lucius Malfoy's son seducing the Boy Who Lived. However, he suspected that quite a few of the inner circle did not trust him and his loyalty to their Master. Of course, their assumptions were quite correct, but he still had to pretend. He still fooled the Dark Lord, and that was really the most important bit. Not enough to make him informed of all plans, though. Severus was slowly slipping out of the inner circle – that had to be fixed.
His thoughts were cut off by the loud, collective sound of all the chairs in the Great Hall scraping against the stone as the students stood, ready to go back to class.
Severus cursed and stood from his chair as well. Double potions with the Slytherins and Gryffindors today. Always an eventful three hours.
.:::.
Harry struggled with the knife in an attempt to slice a particularly fat Mandrake. The creature kept rolling away from him, and his right hand was aching terribly. Definitely not one of my better ideas, he thought acidly, throwing the knife down onto the table in frustration.
"Watch it!" Draco growled, moving away from Harry swiftly.
"Sorry." Harry mumbled, picking the knife back up and continuing his struggle. Draco watched him for a few short moments, before taking the knife gently from Harry and slicing the Mandrake himself.
"I'll do it." He said with a sigh.
Harry was too busy musing over Draco's kindness to notice Snape sidle up next to him.
"Why Potter," Harry jumped and turned, meeting Snape's glittering black eyes, "having Malfoy do all the work for you?"
"Uh, no, sir." Harry bit his lip and looked over at Draco, who was slicing the Mandrake with abject concentration. He supposed it was too much to ask Draco to defend him to Snape.
"Oh, really," Snape went on, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Harry with a nasty smile on his sallow face. "Is there something wrong with your hands? Are you unable to perform these tasks? Because surely there must be something wrong with you if you think you can get away with not doing your Potions work."
"Well, there's not," Harry snapped, tucking his right hand against his chest defensively and losing his patience, "Sir."
Snape's face flashed dangerously and Harry grimaced slightly, knowing what was coming next. "Detention, Potter. Eight o'clock. Here." He turned on his heel and stalked back to his desk, throwing one last jibe over his shoulder carelessly, "And ten points from Gryffindor for your tone."
Harry growled a colorful response to the detention under his breath, and then turned back around to Draco, rubbing his hand absently. He didn't understand why Snape gave him so many detentions – it only forced them to spend more time than necessary together, and why would the Potions Master want that?
Draco had a look of concentration on his face, dropping a slice of Mandrake into the potion at a carefully timed three second interval.
"Thanks for sticking up for me," Harry snapped, not caring that Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously as he stirred their potion.
"It's not my job to stick up for you, Potter."
Harry sighed and sat back onto his stool, avoiding the worried glances shot at him by Ron and Hermione from across the room. It seemed like they were always worried about him these days - and really, why wouldn't they be? Harry had always insisted that he hated Draco Malfoy, and now they were...having a clandestine relationship. That really was a very large space to jump in a matter of a few weeks. They had gone from being enemies, to tentative friends, to full-blown relationship status quicker than Harry could say "quidditch." If only they knew.
By the time eight o'clock rolled around, Harry was a bundle of nerves and exhausted. He'd had quite a long day, and was in no mood for Snape's badgering. He was probably going to make Harry disembowel an entire barrel of horned toads, or scrub the floor without magic, or something equally horrible. Detentions with Snape were never pleasant, and they were the worst out of all of the teachers. You avoided detentions with the Slytherin Head of House as much as possible.
"Enter."
Harry blinked, fist still poised in the air to knock on Snape's door. How the bloody hell did he do that, anyway? Harry let out a breath of annoyance and pushed heavily on the door.
"Good evening." Snape gave Harry a smirk, looking up at him from behind the desk, a quill in his hand. A pair of rectangular, black framed glasses set precariously on the bridge of his nose.
"You wear glasses?" Harry asked without thinking.
Snape's forehead pinched together as he reached up and plucked the spectacles off of his face, giving Harry a sour look. Like he had been caught doing something, Harry noted with a quirk of one eyebrow. "For reading." He replied shortly, tucking the glasses into a dragon-hide pouch and placing them inside his robes, "But you are here for detention, not to ask me foolish questions." He tapped his long fingers on the desk, looking Harry up and down, "You'll be brewing tonight. It seems Madame Pomfrey is out of Pepper-Up Potion, and has asked me to replenish her supply," Snape sneered at him nastily, "Luckily I have a student for detention tonight, and am spared from performing this mundane task myself. I'm sure even you can successfully brew a proper Pepper-Up, can't you, Potter?" The last bit was said scathingly.
Harry's eyes narrowed, but he showed no other reaction to Snape's words. "Yes, sir."
Snape gave him another of his most irritating smiles and went back to his work, quill scratching at the parchment echoing off of the stone walls. "What are you waiting for, Potter?" He asked without looking up, "You know where the ingredients cupboard is. Or do you need me to hold your hand?" His eyes flicked up briefly.
"No, sir." Harry clenched his teeth and turned away from Snape's desk, heading towards the back of the room, where the cauldrons were. He gathered the ingredients needed for this potion, and started brewing, grudgingly grateful that Snape had left a sheaf of parchment with instructions in his loopy, elegant scrawl on the back table. However simple the potion might be to brew, Snape at least recognized that not everyone was like him and retained information from years ago.
Harry was in deep concentration, poring over the little slip of parchment that Snape had left, trying to decide if he had somehow missed a step. His potion was turning a deep purple instead of the soft lavender color that was indicated.
"What've you fouled up, Potter?" Snape's voice came silkily from behind him and Harry jumped in shock, dropping the parchment and turning around to face his teacher.
"Sir, the potion, it turned a dark purple..." Harry bit his lip, "And not a lavender. Maybe I put in the-" He cut off abruptly at Snape's intense expression. He was looking at Harry as if he had suddenly sprouted a horn, and Harry instinctively reached up towards his face, looking for anything offensive. His heart nearly dropped through his stomach as he realized that somewhere in his concentration on the potion, his glamour had completely fallen. Snape was no doubt studying the bruises that marred his face.
"A glamour charm?" Snape asked with a snort of disapproval, "Why a glamour charm? Are you too good for the hospital wing, Potter?"
Harry struggled to answer his professor's question, caught thoroughly off guard. What was he supposed to tell Snape? "I couldn't go to the hospital wing for this, Sir." Snape's twin black brows rose skeptically, and Harry quickly back tracked, "I mean, I could have, I just...didn't want to bother Madame Pomfrey with something so easily hid by a glamour charm. I'm sure she gets them all the time from Quidditch practices." Harry threw that in quickly, hoping it would be a good enough excuse for him to be in this predicament in the first place.
"Quidditch practice?" Snape narrowed his eyes, "Perhaps you should focus more on Potions, and less on foolish flying." His eyebrows rose as he stared at Harry calculatingly, and he turned on his heel and stalked back to his desk.
Harry let out a small sigh of relief. Even if Snape didn't buy the excuse, he didn't seem to want to dig deeper into what had actually happened to Harry. And that was perfectly fine with him.
Scratch, scratch, scratch. The sound of Snape's quill moving busily against the parchment helped to calm and focus Harry, much to his surprise, and he finished the batch of Pepper-Up in a little less than two hours.
"Congratulations, Potter." Snape's sharp voice cut through his concentration, "You have successfully brewed this potion. It seems you are not completely useless."
As this was high praise from Professor Snape, Harry simply smiled wryly and dipped a ladle into the cauldron, spilling the potion into vials to be sent up to Madame Pomfrey.