Chapter 11 – Something Unique

Snape couldn't help lying awake in bed, listening for sounds of distress coming from across the hall, holding the vial of Calming Draught in his hand just in case. Once, he had thought he heard something and went to check on Potter, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. When Snape discovered himself still standing in the doorway, staring at the sleeping form, he'd forced himself to return to his bed.

This time he was certain Potter was having a nightmare and dashed across the hall. He heard a whimpered, "No, no please, come back, no," and sat at the edge of the bed. Instead of shouting to awaken the sleeping boy, he leaned over and brushed his cheek.

At his touch, Potter opened his eyes and grabbed Snape's arm. He tried to pull away, but the boy clung to him with a look of desperation. Potter scooted up until he was curled around Snape's arm like it was some sort of teddy bear.

Snape gave up trying to get his arm back. He leaned against the headboard and carded the fingers of his free hand through the boy's hair as he drifted back to sleep.

Snape woke with a pain in his neck, slumped against Potter's headboard. The boy was holding Snape's hand over his heart, still sleeping. Reluctant to wake him, Snape settled back to watch him sleep for a while, taking in that peaceful, captivating face.

After a few minutes, Potter began to stir. He tightened his grip on Snape's hand and tilted his head back to make eye contact with a look Snape could not even come close to identifying. He didn't know whether it was an hour or only a couple of seconds, but all too soon the boy seemed to realize what he was doing and released Snape's hand as if it were cursed, or possibly on fire.

"Oh god, sorry sir," he mumbled and sat up, pulling away.

"Your apology is unnecessary," Snape said as he stood and left the room. Once outside, he closed the door and leaned against it. What in Merlin's name am I doing? he wondered. He shook his head as if attempting to dislodge something from his mind and went to his own room to dress.

When he entered the sitting room, Potter was waiting for him on the couch.

"Potions today, Mr. Potter," he announced and went back to his room without waiting for Potter to acknowledge him. The boy hurried after Snape to his room.

"We will be attempting something unique today, and I mean that literally. I would like you to brew a potion of your own invention." Potter was looking at him in sheer panic. "I do not imagine your potion will actually be effective—my expectations are not that high. I will simply be looking for good application of potion-making theory. You are to use what knowledge you have of the properties of various ingredients and techniques. This task is to be completed on your own—I will not help you." With that, Snape picked up a book and sat in an armchair close by, leaving the boy to do what he would.

Almost four hours later, Snape noticed Potter standing in front of his cauldron fidgeting. He looked over and said, "I think I'm done, Professor," and Snape went over to inspect his work. He was pleased to note that the potion was not smoking, nor did it consist of sludge stuck like concrete to the inside of the cauldron, nor did it appear to have caught fire at any point.

He studied it for several minutes, trying to discern what Potter had been attempting to create, and was left in silent disbelief at his conclusion.

"What do you call your new potion, Mr. Potter? Does it have a name?"

"Well, its supposed to be the opposite of Dreamless Sleep, so I guess it would be Dream-filled Sleep, or some such."

So Snape had been right. "Explain to me the reasoning you employed in its creation."

"Well, sir, it still needed to make the drinker fall asleep, just like Dreamless Sleep, so I left all the ingredients that I thought went toward that aspect alone. Then I took everything that was left and tried to replace it with something that did the opposite of that ingredient. I had a bit of trouble with the moonstone, though, because the opposite of that would be Golden Nuggets, but those react rather badly with rosemary—which I put in in place of the hemlock—so I used some Essence of Sunshine instead," Potter explained. "Oh, and I had to use thestral blood instead of tentacula venom, as that probably would have just made you turn green and spew it all back out."

"Eloquent, as always, Mr. Potter, but surprisingly well thought out. What about the brewing technique? What did you decide the 'opposite' of twenty minutes on medium heat, stirring once every thirty seconds was?"

Potter's face fell and Snape knew he had failed to consider this.

"No matter, it is still a passable attempt. Just remember in the future that the method is as important as the ingredients when brewing. Did you make notes while you worked?" Potter nodded. "Give them to me, I will look them over this evening."

He placed Potter's notes where they would not get lost and they returned to the sitting room.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter. Why did you choose to attempt this particular potion? I would have thought you would try something simpler."

"It was for you," he answered softly.