Thanks to those of you who pointed out the various mistakes in my story. Please try to remember this was one of my first stories ever, I didn't know much. Just ignore any inconsistencies.
* * * *
The day passes swiftly. I go to all my classes, take notes and transfigure a throw pillow into a poodle. McGonagall is so impressed at my improvement in her class that she awards back the twenty points I lost earlier.
I curse myself as I leave for the potions room. I hadn't been paying attention, and when McGonagall told the class to make a poodle from a mouse, I'd done it without pausing to think.
Damn, Damn. Mustn't show too much power.
Ron and Hermione are trailing behind me, chattering about, whatever they are always chatting about. It doesn't bother me: as long as I'm not expected to add much to the conversation.
The dungeons are as unpleasant as always, although I find I'm beginning to like them. They are dark, musty, and ominous. Somehow this accents my mood perfectly.
I pause outside the classroom to admire the stone walls of the corridor.
"Aren't you coming in, Harry?" Hermione asks. "You can't skip."
"Don't worry about it, Snape can't really do anything bad to you." Ron says, thinking I'm afraid to enter the classroom.
I stare in disbelief.
"That's hardly something I'm worried about." I tell Ron as we take our seats. There are only a few other students here already. All of them are Gryffindor, and none look too enthusiastic about the class.
I concentrate on preparing my notes for class, ignoring the Slytherin and other students as the come into the room. If the Gryffindor look unhappy, the Slytherin look positively somber. They file in silently, and take their places behind the Gryffindor students. Most of them don't look anywhere but their desks, but Draco is watching me with a calculating look.
Neville is the last one to enter the room, followed almost immediately by Professor Snape.
"I trust you all finished your assignment? Three feet about the properties, history, and ingredients of a Fey Drink?"
The students stare at Snape. Snape stares back, looking exasperated.
"Well? Why aren't you handing it in?" He demands. The students from both houses scramble to drop their parchment on Snape's desk. I sauntered up and placed my essay beside the pile, staring directly into Snape's eyes before returning to my seat.
"Now that that's finally done, I want you all to prepare a Snare potion. Do it on your own, with no partners. That means leave Longbottom alone, Miss Granger." Snape sneers.
Hermione turns pink. She has been helping Neville in potions for some time, taking pity on the boy and trying to help him escape Snape's wrath.
"In fact, Mr. Longbottom, I think I'll place you elsewhere. Take the seat next to Mr. Poter. Mr. Weasley, you take Longbottom's seat."
Ron and Neville shift places. Neville is pale and obviously worried.
"Get to it." Snape commands. The students start pulling out their cauldrons and ingredients. I don't bother looking at Neville; the boy will have to do this on his own.
I am about half way done when I notice that Neville's potion is turning a strange, angry looking orange color. A Snare potion is supposed to be a forest green color.
I watch as Neville adds a mushroom to the boiling mass. A mushroom? There
were no mushrooms in a Snare Potion!
The orange liquid begins to hiss, drawing the attention of the class to Neville. He is staring at his cauldron, looking horrified and unable to move.
I know what is about to happen. Snape does too, and he is already on his way.
"Longbottom, what in Merlin's name are…"
"Neville, MOVE!" I yell. I know Neville is too scared, so I'm already launching myself at the smaller boy. I hit Neville just as Snape reaches us, and then the cauldron explodes, filling the room with orange smog.
There are students everywhere, coughing and trying to clear the air.
Fortunately the smoke seems to be disappearing in on itself, and it is only a few minutes before it is gone completely.
Neville is out cold, laying a good five feet away where I knocked him.
Snape and I are both sprawled on the ground. I'm half over Snape, my leg across his knees, and my chest on his navel.
It takes a minute for Snape to realize what position we're in, and he shoves me away.
"Get off me, Potter." He snarls. I feel a twinge of embarrassment. Interesting.
"Are you all right, Harry?" Ron is asking. I sit up, looking bewildered but okay.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Professor?" Millicent asks; sounding concerned. Snape shakes his head.
"I'm not hurt." Snape looks over at Neville and stands up, brushing the dust off his robes.
* * * *
I had just reached Neville when a pain unlike anything I have ever felt raced through me. Somewhere behind me Harry cries out. I doubled over, falling back towards him. Harry scrambles over to where I am, his face drawn. The pain vanishes.
"What the hell?" Harry asks, looking confused and angry.
I'm feeling much the same. Something is really wrong. Why the hell am I thinking of them in first names?!
"What happened?!" Ron, (Weasley, dammit!) asks urgently.
"I don't know, but it hurt." Harry (Potter, just Potter!) answers.
"Something of an understatement, Mr. Potter." I somehow managed to sound fierce, even though I'm beginning to understand what was going on. Oh bloody hell.
"Professor?" Draco asks. He recognizes the signs, and it horrifies him.
"Leave it, Mr. Malfoy." I say harshly. Draco looks startled, but he stays silent.
"Mobiliarmus." I say, pointing my wand at Neville (Oh, forget about it, I'll figure it out later). He floats up into the air, still unconscious.
"Follow me, Potter. The rest of you are dismissed." I tell the class. Instead of cheering, everyone just stars as Harry and I walk out of the room, Neville floating behind us.
"Are we going to the infirmary?" Harry asks. Idiot.
"Where else. Do you have any idea what Longbottom has done to us?" I keep my voice controlled, but I'm really seething.
"Whatever it was, it hurt."
"Brilliant observation, Potter. Trust me, it gets worse."
I know I'm being vague, but I don't care. If I'm right I will have a lot of time to explain myself.
Oh hell. Don't be right, please don't be right.
The infirmary is empty, usually a good sign. I float Neville over to a cot and leave him there.
"Poppy, are you here?" I call. I walk back over to Harry. The boy is staring at me with an amused look.
"What's your problem?" I ask irritably. Harry smiles slightly.
"I don't often hear you call people by their first names." He says.
I snort.
"Why are you standing there?" Harry asks. I can almost hear his extended thought. why are you standing so close to me?
"Such a short memory, Potter. Don't tell me you've forgotten what happened the last time I moved away?" I ask sarcastically. I expect the boy to get angry or look defensive, but Harry only looks thoughtful.
Before I can stop him Harry walks quite deliberately away. He covers the space in only two steps, and I feel the pain shoot through me. I groan, and hear Harry whimper. I'm beside Harry and grabbing his arm before the boy can move again.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Potter?" I hiss, tugging his arm. I'm disturbed by the look in Harry's eyes. I see pity and sadness: and something else, something indefinable and infinitely disturbing.
Poppy walks in just then.
"Severus, Harry? What are you doing in here? Don't you have a class?" The medi-witch looks confused.
I point at Neville.
"Longbottom managed to blow up yet another cauldron." I say in a disgusted tone of voice.
"Ahh." Poppy walks over to Longbottom's cot, and starts checking him over. She turns back to Harry and I.
"He doesn't seem to have any injuries other than a lump on the back of his head. Was he thrown by the explosion?"
Harry looks somewhat embarrassed.
"Actually, that was me. I tried to knock him away, so he wouldn't get hurt. I guess I hit him too hard."
Poppy nods.
"Don't fret, Harry. You did the right thing." She turns back to Neville and points her wand at him.
"Enervate." She says. He opens his eyes and tries to sit up, falling back to the bed with a wince.
"Don't try moving until you drink this." Poppy orders, taking a vial from a nearby cart. It holds a soft blue liquid. Neville drinks it gratefully.
"Thanks." He tells Poppy. Then he sees Harry and I.
"Oh, Professor! Did you get hurt too? I'm so sorry!" Neville is babbling and Harry rolls his eyes.
"It's not your concern anymore, Longbottom." I say icily. Poppy raises an eyebrow.
"You're clear to go, Neville." She says quickly. "Try not to hurt yourself again today."
He hops off the cot and is out the door before I can say anything more.
"You certainly didn't have to tell him twice." Harry observes. Poppy grins.
"He's a regular here, he knows the drill." She tells him. She struggles to look serious. "Now, Severus. Seriously, are you hurt? Or you, Harry?"
I see her looking pointedly at our arms, and I let go of Harry quickly.
"I'm not sure, exactly." I say. "Depends on if you have any mandrake handy."
Poppy raised another eyebrow.
"Oh?"
"Longbottom was attempting to make a Snare Potion, and he somehow managed to create a Link Potion instead. It exploded when I reached Potter. Potter and I must have been touching at the time, because the damn stuff got us."
Poppy's eyes go wide. Harry is watching the exchange curiously.
"You mean?"
I nod miserably.
"Now we're stuck with each other. Unless you can mix up the antidote."
Poppy does her best not to giggle, and after a minute she manages to say with a straight face:
"I'm sorry, Severus. I can't get any mandrake for at least a month. Now, wait," She warns when she notices I am about to speak. "It won't be all that bad."
"Not that bad?! Not only am I stuck to someone for at least a month, that someone is Harry Potter!!" I explode.
I realize Harry has been silent up until now.
"Don't you get what's happened here, Potter? We have to stick together for a month?"
Harry regards me with a cool gaze.
"So?"
I'm flabbergasted. So? So?!
"That's all you can say?!" I demand. Harry shrugs.
"What else is there to say? It's obvious we this can't be helped, so why get mad?"
I'm horribly annoyed because I know damn well Harry's right.
"Mad? No, I'm not mad." I say dangerously. I bar my teeth. "I'm going to find Longbottom and quite calmly roast him alive."
"Now, Severus. How do you expect to do that?" Dumbledore (I guess he'll always be Dumbledore to me) asks, coming through the doors of the infirmary. His eyes twinkle above his grin. "I imagine it will be difficult learning to move so quickly at first. Perhaps just a bit easier than a three legged race."
I glare. How dare the old man find this funny? And how did he get here so quickly?
Okay, maybe it is a little funny. But just a little. Mustn't ever say that out loud…
I start to cool off. I close my eyes and silently count to three before I can breathe normally again.
"All right. I concede that there is nothing to be done but wait. That does not mean I have to like it."
"Of course." Dumbledore says merrily.
"Professor? How is this going to work? What about classes?" Harry asks, speaking finally. He adds almost as an after thought: "Where will we sleep?"
It hit's me then that I will probably have to share a bed with this annoying brat, not to mention everything else. Bloody hell, probably have to share a shower!
I must look horrified, because Dumbledore gives me a sympathetic look.
"I will not sit through a months worth of sixth year classes." I say. "If necessary, you can send Potter's work to my rooms, I'll tutor him myself."
"I'm staying in your rooms, then?" Harry asks, his voice oddly without inflection.
I snort.
"I'm certainly not staying in the gryffindor dormitories to be gawked at by a bunch of adolescents." I say with a mental shudder.
Dumbledore claps his hands together.
"Good, now that you have that settled, would you like your things moved down to the dungeons?"
A look of, is that guilt? Fear? Passes Harry's eyes.
"No thank you. I can do it myself." Harry looks at me. "That is, if Professor Snape doesn't mind."
I throw up my hands.
"We might as well get used to moving together. Lead the way, Potter."
* * * *
Here's the newest chapter! Sorry it took me so long, but I do have a baby to look after. ^-^