Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters. JK Rowling does. I certainly don't
own Neville Longbottom or Severus Snape. Severus Snape owns me. Teehee. I don't
make money from any of my writings, although that would be nice.
A/N: Thank-you to everyone who has reviewed. I apologize for not working on this. I
backed myself into a corner and have just now found my way out. Also, if you sign in
when you review (or leave your e-mail address) I'll e-mail you.
Rating: PG
Chapter 4:
That night after dinner in the Gryffindor common room the complete horror of
what Neville was about to be subjected to, sunk in to him. True to form Neville
immediately and completely panicked.
He jumped up out of the chair he had been sitting in while contemplating his day
and raced toward the portal that led out of the fat lady's portrait, intent on reaching the
library before curfew. In his hurry he ran smack into a dazed and somewhat flushed
looking Harry Potter.
"Ouh! Oh, sorry Harry," Neville quickly apologized, brushing past Harry and
hurrying through the short corridor and down the stairs as fast as his still clumsy legs
could safely take him. He scarcely caught Harry's muttered, "Yeah...Neville."
Neville skidded through the library doors, winded but made determined by sheer
terror. He would be spending a full afternoon in the presence of the man whom he had
spent five years cowering before. What in all the nine bloody hells had he been thinking?
Neville immediately made his way back toward the Potions section of the library
that he had become so recently well acquainted with. He was soon rounding the corner of
one of the terribly tall bookshelves and was greeted with a sight that made him turn and
scamper back behind the shelf which hid him marvelously. Standing five bookshelves
away in the corner he desperately needed to search through was none other Madam
Pince...accompanied by Professor Severus Snape.
"I'm certain the book is here somewhere, Professor," he heard Madam Pince state
in a rather irritated voice. "I could have sworn we purchased it just last year. I know it
has--"
"If...you have the book, then why, may I ask, am I not able to locate it? If a
library's patrons are unable to locate particular books because of sheer incompetence in
placement and utter lack of organization then it totally defeats the point of having a
blasted library, anyhow."
"Here, here, Severus. I will not have you raising your voice my library. And, I'll
have you know, there is not a book in this entire library that is out of place."
"I see, then where is the text on theory and application of Alihotsy root in potions
countering the hysteria brought on by eating the leaves? I don't see it, and yet you claim
to have it. Perhaps, it is an invisible book and we should try patting about in open
spaces."
Neville could hear the sneer on Snape's face and would bet anything that Madam
Pince was moments away from blowing her top and ordering the potions master out of her
library. He squeezed his eyes shut from the tension and the fear and turned around the
corner before he had the chance to change his mind.
"Perhaps," he said to the insides of his eye lids, "you should try the Herbology
section...er...just after THE IMPORTANCE OF HERBS IN POTIONS by Herb Sandmore." Neville
waited for the berating that was sure to come for interrupting their conversation. It never
came. In fact, for a moment, the silence was deafening. He slowly opened his eyes to see
both the librarian and professor standing there looking as though they felt like complete
idiots. Snape was the first to recover, nearly instantly sneering with a suspicious look in
his eyes.
"Well, then...Professor...I have things to attend to at the desk." With that
Neville's last hope of living through the evening vanished to the circulation desk.
"Longbottom." Snape easily made a sentence out of Neville's surname. A
sentence that sounded as though it must be the most disgusting thing ever uttered in that
century. "What are you doing down here? No doubt, SPYING on other people's private
conversations."
"No, er, I was just--"
"Looking for Ms. Granger? Undoubtedly, the object of your disgusting teenage
longings. Yes, this would be the place, wouldn't it? However, unlike the annoyingly alert
Ms. Granger you appear to have not noticed that it is a mere five minutes until curfew. I
doubt you'll be able to make it back to your common room quickly enough. It'll be five
points from Gryffindor for neglecting the time. Well, get out of my sight, boy."
Neville turned and began hurrying off, filled with despair at not having been able to
check out the books he would need.
"And Longbottom, my classroom tomorrow, the minute lunch is over. Be glad
that I'm taking time out of my Saturday for this nonsense." Snape called to him,
somehow managing to keep his voice at its soft Slytherin tone whilst raising it to a volume
Neville could hear and hardening it for the boy's benefit.
* * * * *
That night Neville had extreme difficulty sleeping. He could only be thankful that
it was a Friday night. He was so nervous and frightened at the prospect of spending the
next day with Snape that his stomach had worked itself into what he was certain would
soon become an ulcer. He had to retrieve his pillow from the floor twice and get out of
bed to get a drink of water or relieve himself a total of five times. He worried himself into
a sweat all through the night and alternated between throwing his blankets to the end of
the bed and pulling them up and burrowing under them.
He thought of how he would rise as soon as possible and go down to the library to
study until lunch time. He wondered how he should approach Snape, if he should just
enter the class room and take his usual seat or if he should go to the very front. He
thought that he might have to wait on Snape. If so, then where should he wait? He
wondered what he should bring. Should he bring anything at all? He decided to bring
everything he had that could be remotely associated with potions and the Potions class. It
was better, he decided, to be over-prepared than to be under-prepared. Sometime around
four-thirty in the morning, without realizing it, Neville fell into a wholly exhausted sleep.
He dreamt of exploding cauldrons and missing textbooks and lunches that were about
three seconds long. He awoke at eleven-thirty the next morning.
* * * * *
Neville felt incredibly warm and safe bundled in his bedclothes, the warm sun
pouring in over his chest. He rolled over, intent on enjoying this luxurious peace. But,
something insisted on nagging at the back of his stomach, spoiling his languor. He sat up
in bed a content smile still playing at his lips, his body relaxed and calm. He felt the sun
warming his hair, waking him further. The sun was not supposed to be so bright this early
in the morning.
He felt his smile melt into his feet as his stomach tried valiantly to shove itself up
into his chest. He flipped over the bed, searching his night-table for the clock, knocking
over the item he sought in the process. After recovering the clock from the floor and
learning that it was now eleven-thirty-four, he jumped out of bed, racing into his clothes
and shoes as quickly as he could, before barreling toward the library. The library was
closed everyday from noon until one o'clock in the afternoon, while Madam Pince had her
lunch break.
After arriving at the library he had just enough time to rush over to the potions
section and grab as many books as his arms could hold before quickly walking to the
circulation desk and checking them out, moments before Madam Pince left for her lunch.
Neville, regardless having eaten little dinner the night before and no breakfast that
morning, would just have to do without lunch as well. He sat down on the floor just
outside the library and leaning against the wall tried to absorb any information he could
remember having gone over in class. Unfortunately, because of his hurry the assortment
he had grabbed had ended up containing little information that he could find to be useful
to him. However, he scoured through everything as quickly as he could, but because of
the vastness covered in the books and the swiftness with which he had to read because of
his time constraints he was able to absorb very little. He was certain that everything he
garnered would leave his head the moment he walked into the potions classroom.
Because Snape was focused on him solely he would know for certain how little Neville
actually knew. Neville desperately fought the desire to curl up in a little ball and either die
or cry himself to sleep.
Neville soon realized that lunch must have just let out. He could see a few firsties
walking down the hall toward him. He neatly stacked the useless potions texts next to the
library door and they were magicked into the drop crate inside the library. It was then that
Neville realized that in his hurry he had left all of his things up in the dormitory. It was a
good ten minutes away and it was nearly that to Snape's dungeon classroom. There was
no way he would have time to both get his things and have the audacity to show his face in
Snape's dungeon.
With the resignation of a man destined to execution he tried to will himself to
hurry down to the Potions room. He was still a good ten minutes late, he knew.
Nevertheless, he could not stand Snape up and so he pushed the door open and entered,
aware of his imminent doom.
"Longbottom, your late. Five points from Gryffindor. Take your cauldron from
the back of the room and take a seat at the front of the classroom. Now, take out your
Potions text and open it to page eleven. We will try a very simple potion to see if we can
figure the level of your incompetence."
Neville went to the back of the room where the cauldrons were stored and hunted
his out. So relieved was he that he had escaped with a mere five points taken and his head
still attached that it wasn't until he was back at the front setting up his cauldron that he
realized he didn't have his text. Shit. He wondered what he should tell Snape, he
couldn't very well hide the fact that he was without his book. He decided that no matter
what he told Snape, the man would never believe him anyhow, so he went for the truth.
"Er, professor? I, em, was in the li...library this morning and lost-track-of-time. I
wasn't able to go back up to the dorm...to get my potions book." The entire time he
stared at his toes and delivered the last bit with all the despair that consumed him.
"Indeed. Well, I see we needn't brew anything to gauge the level of your
incompetence. In that case, Longbottom, stay right here, and perhaps you shouldn't touch
anything. I'll just get a spare FIRST YEAR text I keep in my office, shall I?"
Neville closed his eyes, his cheeks flaming. Secretly he thought that maybe it was
better that way, to just start all over.
* *
Snape entered his office and went immediately to the shelf where he kept the texts
he was currently working out of. He grabbed the first year text knowing exactly the
potion he wanted Longbottom to brew and deciding that before he allowed the boy to
even try he would give a short quiz to see if the apathetic prat remembered anything about
the ingredients he would need.
'Why do I even bother,' he wondered to himself, 'when I know he doesn't even
care. He hasn't shown a bit of progress in the last three years. I know he didn't get an
owl and that was not for lack of Granger's tutoring. Some twisted attempt at impressing
her is likely the only reason he showed up here today anyhow. I swear the apathetic grow
exponentially every year! If our world isn't run by idiots now, it will be soon.'
He entered the class room and made his way toward his desk at the front.
"Longbottom, before I hand this text over to you I want you to get out a piece of
parchment and a quill; we're going to have a little quiz." At the look he saw on the boy's
face he knew instantly that it was no good.
"I see. Forget EVERYTHING did we. Well, nearly everything, it appears you
managed to get dressed this morning Longbottom. Good for you. Ten more points from
Gryffindor." Snape said as he reached around his desk for a piece of parchment and an
old quill and ink-well. Glaring down at the boy, he placed the supplies on the student's
desk. He appeared to be trembling under the force of Snape's glare.
'Perhaps he'll be frightened into actually absorbing something.' Snape leaned
down to make sure.
"If you come to this classroom, expecting the privilege of my personal time and
tutoring, one more time, unprepared, you will not come to this classroom, again. EVER.
Do I make myself clear Mr. Longbottom?"
"Y..Yes, sir."
"Good. Now, I am going to ask you a question and you are to write the answer
down on the parchment. Do you follow?" He asked sarcastically. Neville's lips pursed
and he nodded slightly looking down at the parchment.
"Even if you don't know the answer, make an attempt. First, question: What are
the magical properties and uses of Dindume root?"
* * * * *
That night, lying in bed, Neville went over the whole hideous afternoon in his
mind. He had managed to get a sum total of three of the twenty questions that Snape
asked him, correct. It wasn't that he didn't know the answer it was just that every scrap
of knowledge he owned seemed to scamper away at the bare mention of Snape.
Snape had stood over him the entire time he had tried to make the potion, causing
Neville to be a complete wreck. Snape had kept leaning over and telling Neville to think
about what the ingredient he was placing in the cauldron would be reacting with. Twice
Neville had had to start over, once because his cauldron had begun to melt. He had never
quite got the potion correct and Snape had sent him away to dinner, both completely
frazzled.
Tomorrow was Sunday and Neville planned on spending it in the library. He rolled
over and tried to go to sleep, but because of terrible stomach pains he didn't manage until
nearly one o'clock in the morning.
own Neville Longbottom or Severus Snape. Severus Snape owns me. Teehee. I don't
make money from any of my writings, although that would be nice.
A/N: Thank-you to everyone who has reviewed. I apologize for not working on this. I
backed myself into a corner and have just now found my way out. Also, if you sign in
when you review (or leave your e-mail address) I'll e-mail you.
Rating: PG
Chapter 4:
That night after dinner in the Gryffindor common room the complete horror of
what Neville was about to be subjected to, sunk in to him. True to form Neville
immediately and completely panicked.
He jumped up out of the chair he had been sitting in while contemplating his day
and raced toward the portal that led out of the fat lady's portrait, intent on reaching the
library before curfew. In his hurry he ran smack into a dazed and somewhat flushed
looking Harry Potter.
"Ouh! Oh, sorry Harry," Neville quickly apologized, brushing past Harry and
hurrying through the short corridor and down the stairs as fast as his still clumsy legs
could safely take him. He scarcely caught Harry's muttered, "Yeah...Neville."
Neville skidded through the library doors, winded but made determined by sheer
terror. He would be spending a full afternoon in the presence of the man whom he had
spent five years cowering before. What in all the nine bloody hells had he been thinking?
Neville immediately made his way back toward the Potions section of the library
that he had become so recently well acquainted with. He was soon rounding the corner of
one of the terribly tall bookshelves and was greeted with a sight that made him turn and
scamper back behind the shelf which hid him marvelously. Standing five bookshelves
away in the corner he desperately needed to search through was none other Madam
Pince...accompanied by Professor Severus Snape.
"I'm certain the book is here somewhere, Professor," he heard Madam Pince state
in a rather irritated voice. "I could have sworn we purchased it just last year. I know it
has--"
"If...you have the book, then why, may I ask, am I not able to locate it? If a
library's patrons are unable to locate particular books because of sheer incompetence in
placement and utter lack of organization then it totally defeats the point of having a
blasted library, anyhow."
"Here, here, Severus. I will not have you raising your voice my library. And, I'll
have you know, there is not a book in this entire library that is out of place."
"I see, then where is the text on theory and application of Alihotsy root in potions
countering the hysteria brought on by eating the leaves? I don't see it, and yet you claim
to have it. Perhaps, it is an invisible book and we should try patting about in open
spaces."
Neville could hear the sneer on Snape's face and would bet anything that Madam
Pince was moments away from blowing her top and ordering the potions master out of her
library. He squeezed his eyes shut from the tension and the fear and turned around the
corner before he had the chance to change his mind.
"Perhaps," he said to the insides of his eye lids, "you should try the Herbology
section...er...just after THE IMPORTANCE OF HERBS IN POTIONS by Herb Sandmore." Neville
waited for the berating that was sure to come for interrupting their conversation. It never
came. In fact, for a moment, the silence was deafening. He slowly opened his eyes to see
both the librarian and professor standing there looking as though they felt like complete
idiots. Snape was the first to recover, nearly instantly sneering with a suspicious look in
his eyes.
"Well, then...Professor...I have things to attend to at the desk." With that
Neville's last hope of living through the evening vanished to the circulation desk.
"Longbottom." Snape easily made a sentence out of Neville's surname. A
sentence that sounded as though it must be the most disgusting thing ever uttered in that
century. "What are you doing down here? No doubt, SPYING on other people's private
conversations."
"No, er, I was just--"
"Looking for Ms. Granger? Undoubtedly, the object of your disgusting teenage
longings. Yes, this would be the place, wouldn't it? However, unlike the annoyingly alert
Ms. Granger you appear to have not noticed that it is a mere five minutes until curfew. I
doubt you'll be able to make it back to your common room quickly enough. It'll be five
points from Gryffindor for neglecting the time. Well, get out of my sight, boy."
Neville turned and began hurrying off, filled with despair at not having been able to
check out the books he would need.
"And Longbottom, my classroom tomorrow, the minute lunch is over. Be glad
that I'm taking time out of my Saturday for this nonsense." Snape called to him,
somehow managing to keep his voice at its soft Slytherin tone whilst raising it to a volume
Neville could hear and hardening it for the boy's benefit.
* * * * *
That night Neville had extreme difficulty sleeping. He could only be thankful that
it was a Friday night. He was so nervous and frightened at the prospect of spending the
next day with Snape that his stomach had worked itself into what he was certain would
soon become an ulcer. He had to retrieve his pillow from the floor twice and get out of
bed to get a drink of water or relieve himself a total of five times. He worried himself into
a sweat all through the night and alternated between throwing his blankets to the end of
the bed and pulling them up and burrowing under them.
He thought of how he would rise as soon as possible and go down to the library to
study until lunch time. He wondered how he should approach Snape, if he should just
enter the class room and take his usual seat or if he should go to the very front. He
thought that he might have to wait on Snape. If so, then where should he wait? He
wondered what he should bring. Should he bring anything at all? He decided to bring
everything he had that could be remotely associated with potions and the Potions class. It
was better, he decided, to be over-prepared than to be under-prepared. Sometime around
four-thirty in the morning, without realizing it, Neville fell into a wholly exhausted sleep.
He dreamt of exploding cauldrons and missing textbooks and lunches that were about
three seconds long. He awoke at eleven-thirty the next morning.
* * * * *
Neville felt incredibly warm and safe bundled in his bedclothes, the warm sun
pouring in over his chest. He rolled over, intent on enjoying this luxurious peace. But,
something insisted on nagging at the back of his stomach, spoiling his languor. He sat up
in bed a content smile still playing at his lips, his body relaxed and calm. He felt the sun
warming his hair, waking him further. The sun was not supposed to be so bright this early
in the morning.
He felt his smile melt into his feet as his stomach tried valiantly to shove itself up
into his chest. He flipped over the bed, searching his night-table for the clock, knocking
over the item he sought in the process. After recovering the clock from the floor and
learning that it was now eleven-thirty-four, he jumped out of bed, racing into his clothes
and shoes as quickly as he could, before barreling toward the library. The library was
closed everyday from noon until one o'clock in the afternoon, while Madam Pince had her
lunch break.
After arriving at the library he had just enough time to rush over to the potions
section and grab as many books as his arms could hold before quickly walking to the
circulation desk and checking them out, moments before Madam Pince left for her lunch.
Neville, regardless having eaten little dinner the night before and no breakfast that
morning, would just have to do without lunch as well. He sat down on the floor just
outside the library and leaning against the wall tried to absorb any information he could
remember having gone over in class. Unfortunately, because of his hurry the assortment
he had grabbed had ended up containing little information that he could find to be useful
to him. However, he scoured through everything as quickly as he could, but because of
the vastness covered in the books and the swiftness with which he had to read because of
his time constraints he was able to absorb very little. He was certain that everything he
garnered would leave his head the moment he walked into the potions classroom.
Because Snape was focused on him solely he would know for certain how little Neville
actually knew. Neville desperately fought the desire to curl up in a little ball and either die
or cry himself to sleep.
Neville soon realized that lunch must have just let out. He could see a few firsties
walking down the hall toward him. He neatly stacked the useless potions texts next to the
library door and they were magicked into the drop crate inside the library. It was then that
Neville realized that in his hurry he had left all of his things up in the dormitory. It was a
good ten minutes away and it was nearly that to Snape's dungeon classroom. There was
no way he would have time to both get his things and have the audacity to show his face in
Snape's dungeon.
With the resignation of a man destined to execution he tried to will himself to
hurry down to the Potions room. He was still a good ten minutes late, he knew.
Nevertheless, he could not stand Snape up and so he pushed the door open and entered,
aware of his imminent doom.
"Longbottom, your late. Five points from Gryffindor. Take your cauldron from
the back of the room and take a seat at the front of the classroom. Now, take out your
Potions text and open it to page eleven. We will try a very simple potion to see if we can
figure the level of your incompetence."
Neville went to the back of the room where the cauldrons were stored and hunted
his out. So relieved was he that he had escaped with a mere five points taken and his head
still attached that it wasn't until he was back at the front setting up his cauldron that he
realized he didn't have his text. Shit. He wondered what he should tell Snape, he
couldn't very well hide the fact that he was without his book. He decided that no matter
what he told Snape, the man would never believe him anyhow, so he went for the truth.
"Er, professor? I, em, was in the li...library this morning and lost-track-of-time. I
wasn't able to go back up to the dorm...to get my potions book." The entire time he
stared at his toes and delivered the last bit with all the despair that consumed him.
"Indeed. Well, I see we needn't brew anything to gauge the level of your
incompetence. In that case, Longbottom, stay right here, and perhaps you shouldn't touch
anything. I'll just get a spare FIRST YEAR text I keep in my office, shall I?"
Neville closed his eyes, his cheeks flaming. Secretly he thought that maybe it was
better that way, to just start all over.
* *
Snape entered his office and went immediately to the shelf where he kept the texts
he was currently working out of. He grabbed the first year text knowing exactly the
potion he wanted Longbottom to brew and deciding that before he allowed the boy to
even try he would give a short quiz to see if the apathetic prat remembered anything about
the ingredients he would need.
'Why do I even bother,' he wondered to himself, 'when I know he doesn't even
care. He hasn't shown a bit of progress in the last three years. I know he didn't get an
owl and that was not for lack of Granger's tutoring. Some twisted attempt at impressing
her is likely the only reason he showed up here today anyhow. I swear the apathetic grow
exponentially every year! If our world isn't run by idiots now, it will be soon.'
He entered the class room and made his way toward his desk at the front.
"Longbottom, before I hand this text over to you I want you to get out a piece of
parchment and a quill; we're going to have a little quiz." At the look he saw on the boy's
face he knew instantly that it was no good.
"I see. Forget EVERYTHING did we. Well, nearly everything, it appears you
managed to get dressed this morning Longbottom. Good for you. Ten more points from
Gryffindor." Snape said as he reached around his desk for a piece of parchment and an
old quill and ink-well. Glaring down at the boy, he placed the supplies on the student's
desk. He appeared to be trembling under the force of Snape's glare.
'Perhaps he'll be frightened into actually absorbing something.' Snape leaned
down to make sure.
"If you come to this classroom, expecting the privilege of my personal time and
tutoring, one more time, unprepared, you will not come to this classroom, again. EVER.
Do I make myself clear Mr. Longbottom?"
"Y..Yes, sir."
"Good. Now, I am going to ask you a question and you are to write the answer
down on the parchment. Do you follow?" He asked sarcastically. Neville's lips pursed
and he nodded slightly looking down at the parchment.
"Even if you don't know the answer, make an attempt. First, question: What are
the magical properties and uses of Dindume root?"
* * * * *
That night, lying in bed, Neville went over the whole hideous afternoon in his
mind. He had managed to get a sum total of three of the twenty questions that Snape
asked him, correct. It wasn't that he didn't know the answer it was just that every scrap
of knowledge he owned seemed to scamper away at the bare mention of Snape.
Snape had stood over him the entire time he had tried to make the potion, causing
Neville to be a complete wreck. Snape had kept leaning over and telling Neville to think
about what the ingredient he was placing in the cauldron would be reacting with. Twice
Neville had had to start over, once because his cauldron had begun to melt. He had never
quite got the potion correct and Snape had sent him away to dinner, both completely
frazzled.
Tomorrow was Sunday and Neville planned on spending it in the library. He rolled
over and tried to go to sleep, but because of terrible stomach pains he didn't manage until
nearly one o'clock in the morning.