Chapter 13
Wendy was diligent in helping Snape with the Wolfsbane Potion. She studied plants in her free time. It was the one thing he had gotten consistently annoyed with her about – she didn't always know what plants he was asking for. So she had dedicated herself to potions, even going so far as to stop practicing advanced spell work. She'd never realized how precise potions could be.
A week before the full moon, the potion was complete. Snape had a goblet waiting on her when she arrived Monday evening.
"Drink this," he said to her. Wendy took the goblet hesitantly. It was smoking blue.
"Are you sure it is right?" she asked.
"Of course," he snapped. "I am not trying to kill you. I could poison you with far less effort."
She drank deeply and immediately gagged. Snape clapped his hand over her mouth.
"Swallow," he commanded. "Don't you dare spit it out. Don't you dare waste it."
Wendy swallowed reluctantly and pulled away from him, coughing.
"That's disgusting!" she exclaimed. "Ugh!"
"You had better get used to it, girl," he said with a snort. "You have many years of this ahead of you. ...Here."
He handed her a second goblet.
"More?" she asked stepping away.
"No. Orange juice. It helps clear the taste away."
"Oh," she said, accepting it eagerly. She drank deeply. He was right, it did help. She drained the cup and handed it back to him.
"Come back tomorrow, same time, for your next dose."
"Oh... You don't have anything you need help with?" she asked hopefully.
"No, Miss Phillips. Go back to your dormitory. Make friends your own age. You spend far too much time cooped up in my dungeons."
"Yes sir," she said disappointedly. She didn't bother telling him that trying to make friends was pointless.
Over the next few days, the ill feeling that approached the full moon overwhelmed her. She had to miss a few classes but was determined to make it to her Potions class on Friday.
About halfway through, she regretted that decision. The smell of simmering cauldrons made her nausea worse. Finally, she gave up brewing the headache potion they were working and put her head down, feeling miserable.
"Miss Phillips, why is your head down in my class?" Snape demanded.
Wendy jerked her head up quickly...and immediately vomited on him. There was a collective intake of breath from the rest of the class as Snape stared at his boots.
"All of you, out. Now!" he barked.
The class didn't need telling twice. They grabbed their bags and scurried out of the classroom, leaving their unfinished potions behind. Wendy stood up shakily.
"Not you," he said, pushing her back down.
Some of the Gryffindors shot her sympathetic glances. When the door shut behind them, Snape cleaned his robes wig a wave of his wand.
"I am so sorry-" she began miserably.
"Don't be," he said calmly. "I understand it can be rough, even with the Wolfsbane."
"Isn't there something you can give me?" she begged. "A potion? Any-"
This time Snape had the wastebasket ready for her to hurl into.
"I'm afraid not," he said heavily. "The best I can do is ginger tea."
"I don't want any tea," she groaned heavily.
"You could at least try it," he said briskly. "Ginger is one of the oldest remedies for nausea. Even Muggles have utilized it in the form of some carbonated beverage."
Wendy didn't say anything and Snape disappeared. She put her head back down on her desk. She just wanted to sleep through this wretched sickness. And to think that she would have to put up with this, once a month, for the rest of her life...it was enough to make her want to die.
"You shouldn't think things like that," Snape's voice said. She turned her head to see him standing in the doorway.
"How'd you know what I was thinking?" she muttered.
"I just do," he replied. "An elf is bringing you some tea."
She said nothing, but put her head back down.