Harry Potter is not my property, and neither should the crack-ness my brain comes up with, but... that's another story. If you think you know what the potion is that Snape drinks in this section, then don't spoil it! And if you see the error in the choice... it was done on purpose and will be addressed in Part II. Anyway, here be Chapter 3.
Another Day at Hogwarts
Ch III Part I
And So It Begins
Albus Dumbledore discovered the normally composed potions master still curled in a fetal position on the pillow-strewn floor of his curtained alcove. The light coming in from the small, barred window only served to show that it was as overcast outdoors as it felt in the cramped space, and hardly served to illuminate it; but Dumbledore could pick out Snape's sallow face among the shadows and dark pillows almost at once. He grasped the sleeping man by the shoulders and shook him until his eyes began to blink slowly. "Severus! Wake up at once!"
The groggy professor pushed away several strands of greasy hair out of his face as he sat up. His expression turned particularly sour when he saw the silhouette of the bearded headmaster crouching beside him. "What is the meaning of this interruption?" he demanded.
When the intruder's face came into focus, Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he did not betray his sudden inner fear that Dumbledore had discovered his most secret addiction. The vial of psilocybin mushrooms was luckily stashed away in his robes, where Dumbledore would not be able to see it.
"I ran into Minerva very late last n... early this morning," Dumbledore responded coolly, frowning. The all too familiar gleam in his eye now flashed coldly at Snape from beneath the old man's spectacles.
"What is the point of your trangression?" Snape stood up, a sinking feeling that Dumbledore knew exactly what he had spent his night doing pervading his thoughts. He followed Dumbledore out of the alcove and into his office, the stale air hitting him like a truck.
"We had a very interesting discussion about marinara, among other things," said Dumbledore, picking up his statement from before. "She seemed very intent on finding some sort of secret world near the kitchens." Dumbledore leaned forward, his hands on Snape's desk, staring down at his subordinate with an unreadable look. "It was altogether very... odd."
Snape simply crossed his own hands, a stoic expression at the ready to combat Dumbledore's gaze. If he were to have guessed... it would be quite the predicament.
The aged headmaster sighed and stood up straight again. "I am afraid she must have gotten into the catnip again, Severus," he said, and again, the gleam in his eye seemed to pierce Snape like an arrow. As he walked around the desk toward Snape, Dumbledore smiled. "I simply came to find and antidote to clear away her symptoms," he said, chuckling. "But you don't look so good yourself, Severus! Is everything all right?"
"Yes." he replied, unmoved, but struggling with his conscience.
"I shall fetch Minerva an antidote from your supply closet, if you do not mind," Dumbledore went on, still smiling. "And I will grab something for you, as well." He made his way past the desk and the curtained alcove to an ajar door in the corner of the room.
Snape frowned. "If you insist," he called after him, hoping that this was all for the best. His head was throbbing, and the events unfolding around him still slowed down and sped up with uncontrollable uncertainty, as it was wont to do after his high the night before.
"I believe I do need something to alleviate my pain..." he mumbled under his breath, coming out more like a concession than he had originally intended.
Dumbledore returned quickly, a vial in both spindly hands. One vial contained a prepared concoction of what looked like green water, the other a dense, pink liquid that Snape did not recall creating. Or maybe he did. The line between reality and fantasy was thin in the afterglow of last night's high.
The old headmaster made a straight path for Snape and leaned in as he jiggled the vial of bright, pink substance in front of Snape's face. "Severus, this happens to be a substance that muggles use. And American muggles at that."
Snape felt his left eye twitch, and he knew he had been betrayed. Dumbledore had been able to make sense of McGonagall after all.
"I suggest you drink all of it," Dumbledore instructed him in an unusually satisfied manner, depositing the vial on the corner of Snape's desk and took a step back, folding his arms, the closest look to smugness he had ever seen in the headmaster's smile.
After several moments, Snape reached out and wrapped his fingers around the vial, putting it to his lips. He had been expecting the liquid to go down in one swift gulp, but he found that the consistency of the substance would only allow it to enter his mouth in small increments, forcing him to pace himself between sips.
The first few went down smoothly, the pink stuff sliding down his throat in an aggravatingly unhurried manner. The taste was not altogether unpleasant, a chalky, fruity flavor that left only a bitter aftertaste on the back of his tongue. Then came the fourth sip.
Half-way through, Snape staggered forward, falling to one knee, one hand on the ground and the other clasping his gut. The vial clattered to the floor, undamaged.
"Albus..." he groaned, teeth clenched.
"Severus, " replied Dumbledore, softly. "I instructed you to finish the entire vial."
Snape adjusted himself on the ground and the old headmaster crouched beside him, holding the glass container to his lips. "No... I don't... stop..." Snape whispered, a forced sound halfway between a choke and a sob that would have made the most heard-hearted brute pity the man's suffering. But Dumbledore pressed on, walking around behind him and placing his hand on his shoulder in some twisted form of encouragement.
"Drink."
Snape continued to struggle, but he could not pull himself away, the old man's touch on his back somehow pushing him on like some cruel encouragement - like he was keeping the on button shoved firmly pressed downward.
By the sixth sip he let loose a terrible scream that was lost in the darkness of the dungeons. One more, and he began to confess his involvement with intoxicating McGonagall, tears rolling down his face.
"I did it! I gave her the... the shrooms! But why, Dumbledore? She was already rolling in catnip when I - agh! - I found her!"
By the ninth, he clutched his abdomen as if his insides were on fire. He tried to scream, but again the vial was at his lips, and another agonizingly slow drop made it down his throat.
After the tenth and final drink, he succumbed to the pain fully, falling into a fetal position at Dumbledore's knees. "KILL ME!" he cried as he felt something in his bowels give. "KILL ME! - "
And then Snape's face blanched utterly, and he fell to his knees.
As the potions master blacked out and began to topple over, Dumbledore caught the man and eased him gently on the stone ground of the stale chamber. The headmaster's nose crinkled at the putrid stench slowly diffusing throughout the room. "This might have to be a job for Filch," he muttered, at once amused by his handiwork as well as repulsed.
As the aged man made to turn out of the chamber, he turned to look once again at the sprawled form of his fellow faculty member. "I shall await your counterattack with great anticipation, Severus," he said, his lips curling into a smile. "And so it begins."
He then clambered out of the dungeons and strolled in the direction of the greenhouses.
The section where Snape is forced to drink the pink potion was directly influenced by pages 571-3 of The Half Blood Prince. It's not plagiarism though, it's just inspiration/paying homage to that section.
