Disclaimer: The story is mine but the characters aren't, the books aren't (except the copies I purchased), the merchandise isn't and the motion picture isn't. But if I had 2 billion dollars I might buy it. Tee hee! I did buy the DVD (not the rights just the disk). However, since I live in the US I didn't buy Philosopher's stone. I want to order it but then I think I'd have to buy and area 2 DVD player, gosh everything's such a hassel!
Warnings: None right now. I may up the rating; it may become slash. I don't know/
Rating: Umm, how about PG
/Denotes thought/
Chapter 3: An Offer
Breakfast was exceptionally good that morning and for the first day all week Neville allowed himself to sit back, relax and enjoy it. There would be no quick breakfast then running off to the library for an hour of study before first class because this was Friday morning and that meant that first class was Herbology. Neville was not about to put studying for a class that would put him in a sour or self-loathing mood between a wonderful breakfast and his favorite class, especially not when he had to deal with Potions right after Herbology anyhow.
Neville finished his bacon leisurely and headed out to the greenhouses. He knew he'd be the first person there but he didn't care. Professor Sprout always let him give her a hand with whatever she was doing at the moment. Everything about Herbology enticed him, the interesting and wonderful plants and their magical uses, the way they looked and smelled. He loved that Herbology was something he could do in complete solitude and harmony, and the plants never jeered him or talked about him behind his back. But what Neville loved most about Herbology was that he was good at it. In fact he was great at it. He could easily nurture and encourage the plants to their fullest potential. When Neville had started out in Herbology in first year he'd been good at it and because he was truly good at something for the first time in his life he was encouraged to become better. Herbology was one of the two things that made Neville feel good, the other being Trevor III, of course.
Once class actually started time went by in a breeze. Herbology class was a Gryffindor/Hufflepuff class and Neville had no trouble getting along with anyone in that class. When Neville finished taking notes and pruning the three Falla bushes assigned to him, he went around and helped other students who were a bit behind. Class finished long before he wanted it too and he would have stayed longer if he wasn't terrified of being late to Potions class. It wasn't the actual potions themselves that bothered Neville. He'd been studying recently and found that his strong knowledge in Herbology helped him greatly in understanding Potions. Neville had no difficulty in identifying a plant and recalling it's magical abilities and ways that it could be used. He realized that potion ingredients were the same way and had easily memorized the qualities of the most common ones this past week. Neville thought that perhaps there was a chance that he could do well in Potions class. The problem had been that ever since his first class he had been so terrified of Professor Snape that it had affected his Potions work negatively. Since he did so horribly at first, thoughts of that class had caused him distress and given him reason to avoid studying for it which only made him do even poorer and it became a downward spiral from there. Neville picked up his pace and hurried down to the dungeons.
* * * * * *
When Neville arrived in Snape's classroom most of the other students were already in their seats. He quietly slipped down the aisle towards his desk, keeping his eyes on Snape and praying he didn't draw the teacher's attention. Unfortunately, as a result of his cautionary watch of Snape, he missed Malfoy's foot as it stuck out in the aisle just in front of him. There was scattered laughter and whispers as he crashed to the floor, his sack popping open and spilling his Potions text and the two others he had checked out of the Library along with, to Neville's great embarrassment, the copy of "How to Overcome Your Worst Fears", onto the floor in front of him. He scrambled about, quickly trying to scoop all of his books into his sack before he earned himself a detention by not being in his seat when class commenced. However, one of the Potions texts had been slung forward quite a bit and he stretched to reach it. As he was sitting back up he noticed the large black boots just in front of him. He looked up to see Snape staring down at him with his usual scowl, behind which, if Neville had only bothered to look, could be seen a small spark of surprise.
"Get to your seat, Longbottom," Snape snarled, glaring about the class until all became silent. He stalked to the front of the room and began the lesson. Neville sat next to Hermione, watching him, utterly amazed that he had escaped a detention, and no points were removed, to boot.
* * * * * *
Snape finished his lecture and sat down behind his desk to mark papers while the class got on with their potions. He couldn't understand why he had let Longbottom off without at least taking away some points. /Perhaps it is because of that dream you had last night, hmm?/ a little voice in his head whispered. /I didn't dream last night. Oh yes you did, see./ and with that Snape's mind was suddenly filled with the past nights dream. Snape dropped his quill onto the desk and glanced up at Longbottom who was, surprisingly enough, not fumbling so horribly as usual. /It was only a dream/ he harumphed to himself. Nevertheless, he stood and began his tour of the room, glancing over students' potions, surreptitiously making his way toward Longbottom. When he got there he was somewhat surprised and a touch pleased (though he'd never show it) to see that so far Neville had done fairly well. However, his presence didn't go unnoticed by the boy who, he saw, had began to squirm.
"Sir, I can't work with you right behind me, you make me nervous." Snape was shocked to hear Longbottom address him from over his shoulder. He was so surprised in fact that it took him a moment to come up with a proper retort.
"Ah, I see Mr. Longbottom, unable to work under pressure, or is it simply difficult for you to copy off Ms. Granger while I'm standing right behind you?"
"No sir." A quiet, almost defeated whisper wafted up from Neville's general direction.
/Hmm. Could it actually be that the Gryffindor's apathetic, snot-nosed, slacker is actually trying to learn something. I doubt it; he's probably only trying to impress the Granger girl. Disgusting, it's one thing to completely lack a brain, but it's another to lack use of it./, Snape thought as he resumed his seat.
After another 20 minutes had passed he made them all put up their left over ingredients and began to verbally quiz them over the potion they had just made.
* * * * * *
/Well/, Neville thought, /that wasn't so bad, and I think I got it all right this time. Perhaps Snape will see that I AM capable of making a potion correctly./
Snape was asking questions now about how each of the ingredients worked and what powers they produced when mixed with others. This was Neville's least favorite part of the class because he never knew the answer and Hermione who sat right next to him inevitably shot her hand into the air every time Snape asked a question. Sometimes Snape asked him for the answer just to try and prove how little Neville knew. Neville slunk down in his seat trying to hide and praying that Snape wouldn't choose him.
"Can anyone tell me what powers the Falla root that you used in today's healing potion, possesses, and what other part of the bush is the ONLY other part that possesses magical powers. Hmm, anyone? We will be using this ingredient in one of next weeks potions." What? Neville perked up in his seat. He knew the answer to this question. But already he had more than exceeded his usual amount of audacity in this class. Yet before he knew it he found his hand in the air along with the only other person in the class who obviously knew the answer, Hermione. Well, he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, or perhaps 'How to Overcome Your Worst Fears' was actually paying off. Snape looked over at their table, his eyes penetrating right into Neville's and Neville thought for a moment that he might have seen a bit of alarm. But Snape's eyes quickly shifted to Hermione.
"Ms. Granger, once again." he said with a long suffering tone.
Neville was shocked beyond belief, though he supposed that he shouldn't have been, for Snape only ever chose Hermione as a VERY last resort. And the one time that Neville had actually raised his hand Snape had looked him over. /Well, there's all the luck./ He thought to himself and quickly slunk back down into his seat, feeling like a fool.
After Snape had finished with his little question and answer session he toured the room with his grade book marking each student's potion. When he came to Neville's he took a second look.
"My, my, this almost looks presentable." In fact, it looked perfect. Snape took a sniff at it and found that it smelled perfect to. However, that is when both Neville and Snape noticed that a small bit of the side of the cauldron seemed to be slouching. Their heads tilted in unison to watch the bit of cauldron slide down to the desk, allowing the potion to escape in a small but steady stream. Neville noticed the same beginning to happen to a spot on the other side of the cauldron.
"Cratera integro", he heard Snape incant and the cauldron repaired itself. "To many Snake fangs, I see. A 'D' and five points from Gryffindor, Longbottom, for trying to melt your cauldron." Snape looked over at Hermione to whom he begrudgingly gave an 'A'. He quickly finished his marking and made his way to the front of the class.
* * * * * *
Snape sat down on the chair behind his desk and lifted his quill. "Well," he said, glaring up at the class, "clean up!" He looked back down at his desk, listening to the scuffling sounds of the students racing to clean and replace their cauldrons. /What was that all about,/ he thought to himself, /first I completely ignore the only hand Longbottom has ever raised in this class in favor of that bloody know-it-all, then I give his best efforts all year a 'D' when Finnigan did the same and I gave that lack-brain a 'C'. Humph./ Snape, however, was not a man to question such small judgments for very long and quickly resumed marking first year's essays on Asphodel. He looked up five minutes later and dismissed class watching the students gather their things and quickly file out of class.
"Longbottom," he surprised himself by calling, "stay for a moment." Neville looked quite frightened yet made his way up toward Snape's desk.
"Y-yes sir?"
"I noticed that you actually attempted some sort of effort in class today, Longbottom. Could it have something to do with those Potions texts your keeping in your sack?"
"I... I've simply been trying to brush up a bit. You know, to catch up with the class."
"Hmm, well since that's the case, why don't you simply ask Granger to tutor you a bit on your Potions, hmm?"
"Er, well you see sir, I don't want to bother the others; I don't want them to feel obligated to give up their time er to help me. That is to say Hermione's been spending a lot more time with Ron recently and I don't even know if she would actually help me and, and I-"
"You don't want to lose the only people who actually allow you to call them friends." Snape interrupted, sounding more like he was talking to himself than anyone else. "I see, Longbottom. Well, since such is the case, if you deem it absolutely necessary, I would be willing to tutor you, on a few conditions of course. One, I will only do it if I am not busy that evening. Two, you must come to the classroom prepared to work and do your absolute BEST not to annoy me. Third, it is every other night and you will come when I say and leave when I believe you to have learned the lesson even if it is one o'clock in the morning. This might give you some initiative to get it right quickly instead of slacking about, understood?"
"I...I," Neville wasn't sure he could do it. Make potions while Snape is glaring down his back? Oh but he wanted to learn it, to prove himself, so badly. "Yes, thank you sir."
"Hmmph. Well, why are you still here? Don't you have to be somewhere or something?"
"Er, yes sir. Thank you, once again." Neville headed out of the dungeons, terrified but excited as well. He'd be catching up with the rest of the class, proving that he wasn't a dunderhead after all. But he'd be spending every other evening in the dungeons with his worst nightmare! He didn't know whether he couldn't wait, or wanted to hide. And what would he tell everyone?
Warnings: None right now. I may up the rating; it may become slash. I don't know/
Rating: Umm, how about PG
/Denotes thought/
Chapter 3: An Offer
Breakfast was exceptionally good that morning and for the first day all week Neville allowed himself to sit back, relax and enjoy it. There would be no quick breakfast then running off to the library for an hour of study before first class because this was Friday morning and that meant that first class was Herbology. Neville was not about to put studying for a class that would put him in a sour or self-loathing mood between a wonderful breakfast and his favorite class, especially not when he had to deal with Potions right after Herbology anyhow.
Neville finished his bacon leisurely and headed out to the greenhouses. He knew he'd be the first person there but he didn't care. Professor Sprout always let him give her a hand with whatever she was doing at the moment. Everything about Herbology enticed him, the interesting and wonderful plants and their magical uses, the way they looked and smelled. He loved that Herbology was something he could do in complete solitude and harmony, and the plants never jeered him or talked about him behind his back. But what Neville loved most about Herbology was that he was good at it. In fact he was great at it. He could easily nurture and encourage the plants to their fullest potential. When Neville had started out in Herbology in first year he'd been good at it and because he was truly good at something for the first time in his life he was encouraged to become better. Herbology was one of the two things that made Neville feel good, the other being Trevor III, of course.
Once class actually started time went by in a breeze. Herbology class was a Gryffindor/Hufflepuff class and Neville had no trouble getting along with anyone in that class. When Neville finished taking notes and pruning the three Falla bushes assigned to him, he went around and helped other students who were a bit behind. Class finished long before he wanted it too and he would have stayed longer if he wasn't terrified of being late to Potions class. It wasn't the actual potions themselves that bothered Neville. He'd been studying recently and found that his strong knowledge in Herbology helped him greatly in understanding Potions. Neville had no difficulty in identifying a plant and recalling it's magical abilities and ways that it could be used. He realized that potion ingredients were the same way and had easily memorized the qualities of the most common ones this past week. Neville thought that perhaps there was a chance that he could do well in Potions class. The problem had been that ever since his first class he had been so terrified of Professor Snape that it had affected his Potions work negatively. Since he did so horribly at first, thoughts of that class had caused him distress and given him reason to avoid studying for it which only made him do even poorer and it became a downward spiral from there. Neville picked up his pace and hurried down to the dungeons.
* * * * * *
When Neville arrived in Snape's classroom most of the other students were already in their seats. He quietly slipped down the aisle towards his desk, keeping his eyes on Snape and praying he didn't draw the teacher's attention. Unfortunately, as a result of his cautionary watch of Snape, he missed Malfoy's foot as it stuck out in the aisle just in front of him. There was scattered laughter and whispers as he crashed to the floor, his sack popping open and spilling his Potions text and the two others he had checked out of the Library along with, to Neville's great embarrassment, the copy of "How to Overcome Your Worst Fears", onto the floor in front of him. He scrambled about, quickly trying to scoop all of his books into his sack before he earned himself a detention by not being in his seat when class commenced. However, one of the Potions texts had been slung forward quite a bit and he stretched to reach it. As he was sitting back up he noticed the large black boots just in front of him. He looked up to see Snape staring down at him with his usual scowl, behind which, if Neville had only bothered to look, could be seen a small spark of surprise.
"Get to your seat, Longbottom," Snape snarled, glaring about the class until all became silent. He stalked to the front of the room and began the lesson. Neville sat next to Hermione, watching him, utterly amazed that he had escaped a detention, and no points were removed, to boot.
* * * * * *
Snape finished his lecture and sat down behind his desk to mark papers while the class got on with their potions. He couldn't understand why he had let Longbottom off without at least taking away some points. /Perhaps it is because of that dream you had last night, hmm?/ a little voice in his head whispered. /I didn't dream last night. Oh yes you did, see./ and with that Snape's mind was suddenly filled with the past nights dream. Snape dropped his quill onto the desk and glanced up at Longbottom who was, surprisingly enough, not fumbling so horribly as usual. /It was only a dream/ he harumphed to himself. Nevertheless, he stood and began his tour of the room, glancing over students' potions, surreptitiously making his way toward Longbottom. When he got there he was somewhat surprised and a touch pleased (though he'd never show it) to see that so far Neville had done fairly well. However, his presence didn't go unnoticed by the boy who, he saw, had began to squirm.
"Sir, I can't work with you right behind me, you make me nervous." Snape was shocked to hear Longbottom address him from over his shoulder. He was so surprised in fact that it took him a moment to come up with a proper retort.
"Ah, I see Mr. Longbottom, unable to work under pressure, or is it simply difficult for you to copy off Ms. Granger while I'm standing right behind you?"
"No sir." A quiet, almost defeated whisper wafted up from Neville's general direction.
/Hmm. Could it actually be that the Gryffindor's apathetic, snot-nosed, slacker is actually trying to learn something. I doubt it; he's probably only trying to impress the Granger girl. Disgusting, it's one thing to completely lack a brain, but it's another to lack use of it./, Snape thought as he resumed his seat.
After another 20 minutes had passed he made them all put up their left over ingredients and began to verbally quiz them over the potion they had just made.
* * * * * *
/Well/, Neville thought, /that wasn't so bad, and I think I got it all right this time. Perhaps Snape will see that I AM capable of making a potion correctly./
Snape was asking questions now about how each of the ingredients worked and what powers they produced when mixed with others. This was Neville's least favorite part of the class because he never knew the answer and Hermione who sat right next to him inevitably shot her hand into the air every time Snape asked a question. Sometimes Snape asked him for the answer just to try and prove how little Neville knew. Neville slunk down in his seat trying to hide and praying that Snape wouldn't choose him.
"Can anyone tell me what powers the Falla root that you used in today's healing potion, possesses, and what other part of the bush is the ONLY other part that possesses magical powers. Hmm, anyone? We will be using this ingredient in one of next weeks potions." What? Neville perked up in his seat. He knew the answer to this question. But already he had more than exceeded his usual amount of audacity in this class. Yet before he knew it he found his hand in the air along with the only other person in the class who obviously knew the answer, Hermione. Well, he wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, or perhaps 'How to Overcome Your Worst Fears' was actually paying off. Snape looked over at their table, his eyes penetrating right into Neville's and Neville thought for a moment that he might have seen a bit of alarm. But Snape's eyes quickly shifted to Hermione.
"Ms. Granger, once again." he said with a long suffering tone.
Neville was shocked beyond belief, though he supposed that he shouldn't have been, for Snape only ever chose Hermione as a VERY last resort. And the one time that Neville had actually raised his hand Snape had looked him over. /Well, there's all the luck./ He thought to himself and quickly slunk back down into his seat, feeling like a fool.
After Snape had finished with his little question and answer session he toured the room with his grade book marking each student's potion. When he came to Neville's he took a second look.
"My, my, this almost looks presentable." In fact, it looked perfect. Snape took a sniff at it and found that it smelled perfect to. However, that is when both Neville and Snape noticed that a small bit of the side of the cauldron seemed to be slouching. Their heads tilted in unison to watch the bit of cauldron slide down to the desk, allowing the potion to escape in a small but steady stream. Neville noticed the same beginning to happen to a spot on the other side of the cauldron.
"Cratera integro", he heard Snape incant and the cauldron repaired itself. "To many Snake fangs, I see. A 'D' and five points from Gryffindor, Longbottom, for trying to melt your cauldron." Snape looked over at Hermione to whom he begrudgingly gave an 'A'. He quickly finished his marking and made his way to the front of the class.
* * * * * *
Snape sat down on the chair behind his desk and lifted his quill. "Well," he said, glaring up at the class, "clean up!" He looked back down at his desk, listening to the scuffling sounds of the students racing to clean and replace their cauldrons. /What was that all about,/ he thought to himself, /first I completely ignore the only hand Longbottom has ever raised in this class in favor of that bloody know-it-all, then I give his best efforts all year a 'D' when Finnigan did the same and I gave that lack-brain a 'C'. Humph./ Snape, however, was not a man to question such small judgments for very long and quickly resumed marking first year's essays on Asphodel. He looked up five minutes later and dismissed class watching the students gather their things and quickly file out of class.
"Longbottom," he surprised himself by calling, "stay for a moment." Neville looked quite frightened yet made his way up toward Snape's desk.
"Y-yes sir?"
"I noticed that you actually attempted some sort of effort in class today, Longbottom. Could it have something to do with those Potions texts your keeping in your sack?"
"I... I've simply been trying to brush up a bit. You know, to catch up with the class."
"Hmm, well since that's the case, why don't you simply ask Granger to tutor you a bit on your Potions, hmm?"
"Er, well you see sir, I don't want to bother the others; I don't want them to feel obligated to give up their time er to help me. That is to say Hermione's been spending a lot more time with Ron recently and I don't even know if she would actually help me and, and I-"
"You don't want to lose the only people who actually allow you to call them friends." Snape interrupted, sounding more like he was talking to himself than anyone else. "I see, Longbottom. Well, since such is the case, if you deem it absolutely necessary, I would be willing to tutor you, on a few conditions of course. One, I will only do it if I am not busy that evening. Two, you must come to the classroom prepared to work and do your absolute BEST not to annoy me. Third, it is every other night and you will come when I say and leave when I believe you to have learned the lesson even if it is one o'clock in the morning. This might give you some initiative to get it right quickly instead of slacking about, understood?"
"I...I," Neville wasn't sure he could do it. Make potions while Snape is glaring down his back? Oh but he wanted to learn it, to prove himself, so badly. "Yes, thank you sir."
"Hmmph. Well, why are you still here? Don't you have to be somewhere or something?"
"Er, yes sir. Thank you, once again." Neville headed out of the dungeons, terrified but excited as well. He'd be catching up with the rest of the class, proving that he wasn't a dunderhead after all. But he'd be spending every other evening in the dungeons with his worst nightmare! He didn't know whether he couldn't wait, or wanted to hide. And what would he tell everyone?