AN: I'm am sorry for this stupidly late update. Some real life fell out of the sky and made all kinds of mess when it landed on me. Hope you like. I'm starting on the next chapter right now, which will probably mean staring at a blank screen for a while until I start playing tetris. Oh, and if you'd been wondering I have not purchased the rights to Harry Potter since the last disclaimer was written. Tell the lawyers to back off.


I woke up suddenly and knew that I was not in my own bed. The dungeons did not have sunlight and I have never owned a pillow this comfortable in my life.

I kept my eyes shut and willed myself to breath evenly, trying to ignore the spinning feeling in my head. Alerting the owner of the bed that I was awake could be a very bad idea indeed.

I was not in my own robes and I could not feel my wand. I did not seemed to be bound in any way other than being "tucked-in" which was perhaps even more disturbing than if I had been gaged.

How in the hell did I get here? Where was here?

The last thing I could remember was reading student reviews. What had happened to get me from student reviews to wearing almost nothing in a strange bed? And what are the chances that it was going to be something I wouldn't regret immensely?

"Harry and Ron are on their way, Poppy. Has he awoken yet?"

I regretted whatever I'd done already. Gods, I was in the infirmary and Potter was on his way. I wonder if there is a way to kevadra myself without moving?

"No, Minerva. He's still out cold."

Just not cold enough.

"Oh, that's too bad. Perhaps he'll come around in time to give Harry some indication of who might have done this to him? I'll go fetch Hermione since Harry will mostly likely need to speak with her as well."

Oh, I see. Can't figure out what happened to myself by myself. Must call in Saint-bloody-fucking-Auror Potter to save the day. I suppose if I ask very nicely -with the proper level of groveling- that I can I lick his boots? Perhaps just the hallowed ground he walks on?

Tosser.

Minerva had gone to fetch Granger. Hmm. That was a real puzzle. I could not imagine what Granger would have to do with my lying here unless she'd finally snapped and taken me out herself. On deeper thought, there were two things wrong with that supposition. One, she couldn't lay me out even if she had taken Felix Felicis and used the Elder Wand while I was tied to a nest of flobberworms. I do have some ability, you know. Two, Minerva had already indicated that they didn't know who had done this, but that Granger could help. Knowing her, Granger was involved in this in some noble, and heroic way.

Which only made suicide that much more appealing.

Poppy came over to my bed, perhaps knowing of my intentions, and ran some usual tests. I think it speaks highly of my self control that I did not flinch when she touched my left wrist to take a pulse. I'm not sure what it says about her that she did flinch when she pushed the sleeve up farther. Perhaps she'd forgot what was there. I'd like to. She moved to the other arm to draw what felt like a small amount of blood.

She must be testing for poison. Had someone had tried to poison me? Bloody buggering bestiality. I'd never live that down. Not that my reputation could really be much worse, but still. Had someone slipped me something, and I'd failed to catch it? Gods, I felt queasy.

"Professor!"

"Shh! Mr. Potter! He's not awake yet."

"Oh, sorry, Madam Pomfrey. We came as quickly as we could manage. Ron's gone to get Hermione. What happened to him? Your Patronus said Hermione brought him in last night unconscious?"

"Sit down. Here, have some tea. There you are. Hermione can tell you more about what happened last night. But when she brought him in she said that he had fallen to the ground unconscious, and she thought he'd had a bit too much to drink."

I could hear Potter slurping his tea from here. No poisoning? No duel? I just passed out drunk? That was a bit... pathetic. And now Poppy was telling Potter all about it. Bloody fucking wonderful.

"However, Hermione also said he was acting very oddly. Saying very peculiar things, even acting... silly."

"You said he'd been drinking."

"Yes, but Severus Snape is not a happy, silly drunk. Frankly, he's not a happy, silly anything. And I've never known him to pass out, even after quite a bit of alcohol."

"I still don't understand what you're getting at ."

"Someone put GHB into his drink. It would explain his lack of inhibition and sudden unconsciousness."

My surprised reaction was completely overshadowed by Potter spewing his tea out.

"GHB! That stuff that muggles use to ah... Wait, what are you saying?"

Yes, what are you saying Poppy?

"Yes, GHB is a muggle 'date rape drug'. However, I do not believe anyone raped him. Hermione was with him the entire time."

Is that supposed to make me feel better? She always did make me suspicious.

"So you've called Ron and I to find out who slipped him the drug. I will need to speak to him. How is he doing now?"

"As far as I can tell, much improved. The last blood test showed the drug is almost completely gone from his system. However, it may not be much help to you when he does wake-up. One of the side effects is memory loss. I doubt he'll remember anything from last night."

And I don't want to remember anything. All I want to do is vomit. Gods, I am never drinking again.

"Harry!"

"Hermione! Shh! Severus is still asleep."

"Sorry, Poppy! It's so good to see you Harry!"

"It's good to see you too, Hermione. Don't worry, I did the same thing earlier. Where's Ron, didn't he come with you?"

"I haven't seen Ron at all. Minerva sent me down since she thought you might want to speak with me."

"Oh, he must have missed you. He'll be down in a bit then. In the meantime, give me the whole story. Everything you remember from last night that has anything to do with Professor Snape."

"Well, we were all having a pint to cheer up from our reviews when he came into the Three Broomsticks and I -"

"Do you remember about what time?"

"I think about 9 o'clock. There's this older man that shows up about then to enjoy Rolanda's, erm, dancing."

Memory loss had definite advantages.

"Okay... Did the Professor stay at the Three Broomsticks?"

"Yes, after a bit of convincing."

Probably had to pay me. Meddlesome, that's what she was. That I'm here is clearly all her fault.

"And did you see anyone approach him? Buy him any drinks?"

"Erm, no. He was rather good at buying himself drinks."

Insufferable nark.

"Ah. And when did you start to notice his behavior changing?"

"When he laughed."

"Laughed? As in a snigger?"

"No. Harry, he laughed. Real laughter."

Which is when I vomited.

Which completely ruined my cover. Being sick all over the floor is usually a good indication that one is not asleep.

"Oh good. He's awake. Hand me that bin please."

Poppy evanescoed my previous stomach contents and handed me the bin. I'd never been so grateful to see a trash bin before.

"What the bloody hell is Potter doing here?" Best to make it clear that I was really sleeping just now and not eavesdropping at all. Also good to stress that I didn't want Potter around.

"I'm here to help find out who did this to you, sir."

Vomit.

That 'sir' was worse than git ever was.

"Did what? Give me a hang-over? Why am I in the infirmary?"

"Because you're having another side-effect to the GHB." Quipped Poppy with just the tiniest hint of evil satisfaction.

I did not have to fake my look of horror. That someone tried … that was genuinely still horrifying. Poppy needed to work on her bedside manner, in my opinion.

"I think we'll let Professor Snape, uh, wake up. I can finish interviewing Hermione in the hall. I hope you get to feeling better, sir."

Vomit. Vomit.

"There, there, just lie back down. On your side, mind."


Thank you for reading. Ten bonus points to you.