A/N: Part 10 in the Dumbledore SI series.

"Who was at the door, Albus?" Severus called from his office.

I ignored him.

I was a slug, crawling on the floor one millimetre at a time…

The inner door opened.

"What are you doing?" Severus asked.

Slugs can't talk. I slithered another millimetre over the living room floor. This time next year, I might reach my bedroom where I could safely hide my shame.

"Get up, Albus," Severus said. He crossed the room to push a sock-covered toe into my side. "You're gathering dirt."

Slugs were the lowest of low creatures. They didn't deserve to walk amongst men. Perhaps he should clean his floor if he was so bothered. I pressed my nose against the cold stone and gained another half of a millimetre by dint of digging my toes in and using them for leverage.

Severus sighed. "Don't make me guess what this is about, please. I would like a quiet Saturday for once."

I could see him out of the corner of my left eye. He looked exasperated, as well he should. He didn't deserve a son—correction—a pretend son like me. He turned aside, searching for patience, and I saw the moment he spied the shiny rectangular package on our coffee table.

"What's this?" he asked.

I needed slime.

I stuck my tongue out and dribbled a small puddle of drool.

When I wiggled forward, it caught on my chin.

I dribbled more.

It was at the wrong end, but I probably didn't deserve to be a proper slug either.

At that moment of misery, my sluggy left eye spotted Severus doing something odd. Something that would increase my pain twofold very shortly. Dungeon Bat Frown no 5 creasing his brow, he slipped his wand out and cast a spell on the package; yellow light enveloped it, and after a long second, sputtered out. He cast a second charm, and this time grey fog spewed from the tip of his wand. This one I knew, it was to detect dark magic.

"Did you touch this?" he asked.

I slithered.

I slimed.

I was not worthy to be talked to.

"Albus," he hissed and kneeled next to me. He reached down to pull my eyelid up and peered into the depths of my sorry sluggy soul. "You need to answer me. Are you playing some idiotic game, or did you touch a hex?"

As if I would play a game when I was so miserable!

He swore and scooped me into his arms.

I dribbled in his neck.

Was he going to chop me up for a potion? I deserved it. I doubt it would be a good potion.

There wasn't going to be an Albus potion. Time sped up: Severus levitated the gift, assured me everything would be fine, and Floo'd the three of us to the Infirmary before I could do a confused flop.

What was he doing?

"Poppy!" he shouted. "Albus touched a prank or a hex—if I get my hands on whoever did this! Where's that damn woman? Poppy!"

Fuck. I was dead.

"Oh, Albus!" Poppy exclaimed, rushing from her store. "What have you done?"

Why did they always think I was to blame? It could have been someone else!

"Here, Severus. Put him on the bed. What is that?"

"A gift. I think Albus received it; I heard the door and found him drooling on the floor." His explanation succinct, his voice was filled with concern and he gently settled me where Poppy ordered and smoothed my bangs out of my eyes. "Albus, can you hear me? Nod or blink if you can't talk."

Have you ever had that moment when you knew you were in too deep? When sink or swim wasn't an option anymore, it was all sink?

This was not it.

Wait for it.

"Perhaps we should take him to St Mungo's," Severus said when I didn't move.

I watched in horror as his sallow skin paled to a magnificent chalky white, and he hurried to pick me up again.

Yeah. This was it.

Consider me sunk.

He was going to be livid if I didn't die. Livid.

I rolled my slug eyes to Poppy for help.

"Give us some space, Severus," Poppy said, frowning at me. "Go on. There's no need for St Mungo's just yet; Albus will be fine. Try to see what spell they used, it might help."

Poppy nudged him away and closed the curtains with a swish of her wand. Severus and his frantic eyes disappeared from view, and silence descended in the cubicle. Familiar diagnostic charms fizzled against my skin.

I thought sluggy thoughts and prayed she would be fooled.

Slime.

Leaves.

Slime.

Worms.

Slime.

Excrement.

"Give it up, Albus," Poppy said. "I know you're faking it."

I rolled my stalky slug eyes to where colourful lights glowed against the curtains. That would be Severus casting every spell he knew.

He was going to kill me.

"He can't hear us," she said.

Slime.

"Your options, Albus," Poppy said kindly, "are to tell me what's going on or I'll call your dad and info—"

I sat up. "Please don't tell him, Poppy!"

"I can't promise that, dear." Poppy patted my knee. "I'm sure it's a misunderstanding. You're not in trouble. Now, why don't you tell me everything?"

Poppy was fast turning from a former friend into a grandmother. When she sat on the edge of the bed and opened her arms, I crawled into the hug and told her all.

"I forgot his birthday, Poppy," I sobbed against her starched bosom. "No one told me! Sybill brought a gift and I didn't get him anything! Sybill!" Severus hated Sybill. The last thing I wanted was to be grouped with her.

She made some sympathetic noises, and when I didn't continue, asked, "And the drooling on the floor?"

"I'm no better than a slug!" I wailed.

I bet there were slug children who remembered their fake parents' birthdays.

I cried some more and explained how he had rushed me to the infirmary before I could stop him—slugs were slow—and begged her to play along. Surely there was a disease she could give me? I hadn't intended to pretend I was ill. It was all Severus's fault for jumping to conclusions and then not giving me time to react, but I would bet my last galleon he was going to blame me anyway. Dragon pox! She could give me dragon pox!

By now I was willing to die for the cause rather than face him finding out.

"You're an idiot," Severus said, nearly giving me a stroke. The damn bat had opened the curtains at some point during my diatribe and stood there, still in socks, holding a bottle of wine, and looking constipated. "And my birthday isn't until tomorrow if you are so bothered—there's no need to cry about it—Sybill had the day wrong."

"I'm not crying!" I swiped an arm over my face. Bloody hell! All this for nothing? "You're a bigger idiot for thinking I was hexed—I was a slug!"

"So I heard."

"You need to take me to Diagon to buy you a gift." I sniffed hard. "And a calendar. One that talks and stuff so it can tell me what day it is." Hermione had one like that, it was extremely irritating but I would take it. I didn't need a repeat of this morning, thanks.

"I don't need a gift."

"Everyone needs a gift."

"A card will do, Albus."

"It will not!"