Chapter Three
Neville finished washing his hair, necessary after the food fight, and dressed in clean clothes before heading down to the potions classrooms. Once, it would have taken class or detention to force him down the stairs to Professor Snapes' lair. The events in his forth and fifth years at Hogwarts had shown him that there were much more frightening things than the potions master, and spending the last two summers at school in relative privacy with Severus had taught him things about him that made it impossible to fear him again. At some point Neville and Severus had both started spending long evenings in the library. Somehow, made braver, perhaps, by the loss of his gran, Neville had started sharing his feelings and problems with the professor. To his surprise, Severus had understood without pity or contempt. Eventually he had returned with his own confidences, and Neville came to understand the man a great deal better.
It was a pity that he still had no talent with potions, but it had become much easier now that he wasn't too afraid to ask questions. Now in his seventh year, Neville was working on his final potions project, which he had been able to combine it with his herbology project. He had chosen a type of potions not emphasized in normal classes because they could take months or years to reach usefulness, but that was all to the good for Neville. The extra time kept him from making mistakes due to haste. The type of potions was enough to provide the motivation he needed to study the subject, and he was looking forward to his best potions grade yet at the end of the year. Professor Sprout assured him Green mages would fight over who would get him as an apprentice when his project was completed. While Neville was sure she was exaggerating, he was nevertheless confident that he had a future after Hogwarts. He was in a good mood as he descended to the dungeons to check on his last batches of magical composts and fertilizers.
Professor Snape glared at his detendees. There had been so many detentions handed out in the last two weeks that professors were simply assigning any chore they could think of to the students, and telling them to do it without magic. A fight that had broken out in class that afternoon had caused a number of bottles to shatter from badly aimed curses, and gave the causes of the fight plenty to clean up in the evening. Currently Vincent Crabbe was on hands and knees scrubbing the floor. Pansy was scrubbing various items at the sink, while Draco and Gregory Goyle were cleaning off the shelves and bottles while conducting an argument entirely in whispers and glares.
This was the sight that greeted Neville when he arrived to check his project. The project was a row of small cauldrons in a variety of shapes and substances taking up an entire shelf in the back of the rooms. Neville hadn't had time to check them for damage after the fight because fumes from the spilled materials had forced them all to leave in a hurry. He smiled at the professor grading papers at his desk and walked carefully around the spills to his cauldrons. Most of them were covered and sitting on magical warming tiles to keep their temperatures constant. Unfortunately one of the more delicate mixtures had been sitting uncovered for its' final stage of cooling, and was now a nauseating shade of yellow rather then the smoky black it should have been. Severus finished grading the last page in a stack and walked over to Neville. Neville smiled at him and then frowned at his cauldrons. "This one is a complete loss. Something probably got into it and knocked the dragons' blood out of suspension."
"Indeed," the professor said, moving closer to Neville to look at it himself. "How are your other potions proceeding?" It was too late in the year to redo many of the time consuming mixtures that Neville had worked so hard on. Anything destroyed now would have to be left out of the final report.
"The covered ones are fine." Neville took down another cauldron that had been uncovered and looked in it. "This one was just the standard type four base with odds and ends thrown in. There's no way to tell if it's contaminated." Neville turned towards Severus and found his face only inches away from the other mans' neck. He smelled nice, Neville noted absently, like some exotic spice. Looking up he saw something in the dark eyes that made him lean closer and reach out to pull Severus to himself. There was a sudden loud crash of bottles breaking. They jumped apart, and turned towards the noise in alarm. No one said a word for a moment. All eyes in the room were staring in amazement at Goyle who was pinning Draco against the wall and appeared to be trying to lick the other boys tonsils. Draco didn't appear to mind very much.
Neville finished washing his hair, necessary after the food fight, and dressed in clean clothes before heading down to the potions classrooms. Once, it would have taken class or detention to force him down the stairs to Professor Snapes' lair. The events in his forth and fifth years at Hogwarts had shown him that there were much more frightening things than the potions master, and spending the last two summers at school in relative privacy with Severus had taught him things about him that made it impossible to fear him again. At some point Neville and Severus had both started spending long evenings in the library. Somehow, made braver, perhaps, by the loss of his gran, Neville had started sharing his feelings and problems with the professor. To his surprise, Severus had understood without pity or contempt. Eventually he had returned with his own confidences, and Neville came to understand the man a great deal better.
It was a pity that he still had no talent with potions, but it had become much easier now that he wasn't too afraid to ask questions. Now in his seventh year, Neville was working on his final potions project, which he had been able to combine it with his herbology project. He had chosen a type of potions not emphasized in normal classes because they could take months or years to reach usefulness, but that was all to the good for Neville. The extra time kept him from making mistakes due to haste. The type of potions was enough to provide the motivation he needed to study the subject, and he was looking forward to his best potions grade yet at the end of the year. Professor Sprout assured him Green mages would fight over who would get him as an apprentice when his project was completed. While Neville was sure she was exaggerating, he was nevertheless confident that he had a future after Hogwarts. He was in a good mood as he descended to the dungeons to check on his last batches of magical composts and fertilizers.
Professor Snape glared at his detendees. There had been so many detentions handed out in the last two weeks that professors were simply assigning any chore they could think of to the students, and telling them to do it without magic. A fight that had broken out in class that afternoon had caused a number of bottles to shatter from badly aimed curses, and gave the causes of the fight plenty to clean up in the evening. Currently Vincent Crabbe was on hands and knees scrubbing the floor. Pansy was scrubbing various items at the sink, while Draco and Gregory Goyle were cleaning off the shelves and bottles while conducting an argument entirely in whispers and glares.
This was the sight that greeted Neville when he arrived to check his project. The project was a row of small cauldrons in a variety of shapes and substances taking up an entire shelf in the back of the rooms. Neville hadn't had time to check them for damage after the fight because fumes from the spilled materials had forced them all to leave in a hurry. He smiled at the professor grading papers at his desk and walked carefully around the spills to his cauldrons. Most of them were covered and sitting on magical warming tiles to keep their temperatures constant. Unfortunately one of the more delicate mixtures had been sitting uncovered for its' final stage of cooling, and was now a nauseating shade of yellow rather then the smoky black it should have been. Severus finished grading the last page in a stack and walked over to Neville. Neville smiled at him and then frowned at his cauldrons. "This one is a complete loss. Something probably got into it and knocked the dragons' blood out of suspension."
"Indeed," the professor said, moving closer to Neville to look at it himself. "How are your other potions proceeding?" It was too late in the year to redo many of the time consuming mixtures that Neville had worked so hard on. Anything destroyed now would have to be left out of the final report.
"The covered ones are fine." Neville took down another cauldron that had been uncovered and looked in it. "This one was just the standard type four base with odds and ends thrown in. There's no way to tell if it's contaminated." Neville turned towards Severus and found his face only inches away from the other mans' neck. He smelled nice, Neville noted absently, like some exotic spice. Looking up he saw something in the dark eyes that made him lean closer and reach out to pull Severus to himself. There was a sudden loud crash of bottles breaking. They jumped apart, and turned towards the noise in alarm. No one said a word for a moment. All eyes in the room were staring in amazement at Goyle who was pinning Draco against the wall and appeared to be trying to lick the other boys tonsils. Draco didn't appear to mind very much.