PG-13
Disclaimer: It's all JKR's. Except Snape. I don't give a damn what the legal authorities say; he's mine!
A/N: This has been floating around in the vast empty space known as my head for far too long a time. It should only take two chapters, don't worry.
A/N2: Elas rédre, sierek onradtel éan. Itish ar ná poedaer tálen sier etaro. Sier téo jástro aedgárd cy lika. :) Sier am mésad!
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It was the second week of the new school year, and Snape was already in a foul mood. For his next class was the most dreaded one: sixth-year Gryffindor/Slytherin Potions. For some reason, that fool Dumbledore persevered in putting together the two classes with the most enmity between them, year after year.
He swept into the Potions classroom and allowed his momentum to carried him smoothly and menacingly to the front of the room. Snape turned sharply on his heel and leaned against his desk.
"I know that all—" Snape's eye caught the eye of the young Malfoy, who smirked coolly, "—or at least most of you are incapable of telling the difference between the most elementary of poisons and antidotes, despite my efforts over the last five years to drill some modicum of knowledge into your heads… However, it is your duty to learn and my unfortunate task to teach you intermediate Poisons and Antidotes to you this year—Mr. Potter!"
Harry, who's eyes had been getting slightly unfocused, straightened up as the dark Professor bore down upon him. "Ssorry, ssir," said Harry, who seemed to be having some difficulty with a heavy tongue. "It wwoon' hhappen again."
He received a cold, haughty glare from his teacher for his troubles, and Snape ground out, "And see that it doesn't, Potter. I will not stand for a student sleeping in this class. Twenty points from Gryffindor, and a detention tonight at 7:00." Snape caught a whiff of Potter: a sort of smell that indicated poor hygiene. No wonder that Weasley was leaning well away from his friend.
With a sneer of utter distaste on his face, Snape returned to his lecture on Poisons, Antidotes, and the general stupidity of most sixth-years, when he noticed the Potter child drifting off again.
"Mr. Potter, fifty points from Gryffindor House, and if you cannot control your urge to sleep in my class, you'll have detention for a week, as well!" That certainly seemed to wake him, although his eyes still seemed rather—bleary—behind the glasses. Snape turned to the blackboard to outlined the basic formula that most Antidotes followed.
And yet, not fifteen minutes, later, he distinctly heard Weasley hissing at Potter to awaken. He whirled about in fury, and stopped dead; Weasley's blue eyes met him head on, and the boy said slowly, "Professor—Harry won't wake up!"
In three quick strides, Snape was standing in front of Potter's desk. He grabbed the boy's shoulder.
"Potter—Mr. Potter! Hey! Wake up! Granger, run for Pomfrey—now, idiot girl!" Snape bellowed, and Granger took off like a startled deer. Snape shook the boy's arm; Harry's head lolled grotesquely, and the boy slowly toppled to the floor.
"Damn!" Snape cursed vehemently, "Everybody out! Get out!" He was only vaguely aware of the whole Slytherin sixth year exiting, and most of the Gryffindor sixths huddling to the back of the classroom. Weasley and (oddly enough) Longbottom were the only ones with enough balls to defy the teacher and stay by their friend.
Snape pinched Harry's arm; it didn't look good: the flesh stayed white for a long moment, and then turned an ugly blue. Snape pulled open an eyelid with the same type of results: the sliver of the pupil that could be seen was misted over, and when Snape let it go, the lid slowly closed over the glazed eye. Potter was breathing—or was he? It was hard to tell. Pomfrey finally arrived with a breatheless Hermione in tow. Snape stood.
"Poison," he said, and turned to the Gryffindors as Pomfrey bent over the boy and started her work. "Did anyone see Potter be given a drink in circumstances -at all- suspicious today? Yesterday?" A timid hand was put up in the back, and Patil claimed to have seen Potter drink a black potion at supper the night before; Granger and Finnigan agreed, although the girl claimed (through her tears) that it was more of a dark green potion.
"Do you know where the bottle might be?" Snape growled. Honestly, were these children simply too dense to know what information was needed, or did they hate Potter? A moment's pause, then: "In the pocket of his school robes."
'Surprisingly helpful of you, Potter,' the Potions Master thought wryly, 'now just don't die!' a thin bottle was drawn out of Potter's pocket. The large nose twitched over the opening, and then a long, thin hand was quickly clamped over the bottle's mouth.
"A common 24-hour poison. A little too much Belladonna extract has caused—er," Snape looked absolutely revolted, which was a big enough surprise to most of the students. "It has caused… Mr. Potter's body to start decomposing before he has actually died." A few of the student left the dungeon at a run, hands clamped tightly over their mouths. "We can likely still save him, if we hurry. After all, he's fairly healthy, isn't—"
"Severus!" Madame Pomfrey gasped, "He—he's—!" Severus dropped to one knee beside the inert student, just as his cold, sweaty skin began to shimmer—and bruises appeared where none had been before. The body stiffed, gasped a breath, and relaxed. Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, was living no more.
"Dammit!" Snape howled, (Pomfrey was comforting a distraught Longbottom, and Granger and Weasley held each other as though to keep the truth out) and banged the floor of the classroom with both fists, until the soft, cool hands of Albus Dumbledore held him back with a surprising strength.
"He killed himself—he killed himself!" Snape mutter over and over, and Albus replied in a grief-strained voice, "I know, my boy, I know."
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There! Done. *giggles* That was fun! I've never intentionally killed Harry before. Well—not so horribly. Well—ok, not that I've ever posted. All spelling mistakes are to be blamed on 2:00 a.m. (yes, Aindel, again) and hungry, sharp-toothed ferrets. Review, cuz it's not over yet! Remember, we just got the reaction here. Tune in next time for the counter-reaction and the justice.
And remember: If you can't trust a fellow Slyth, who can you trust?
I SUPPORT A FRIENDLY SLYTHERIN HOUSE!
~Cy @---