In response to a challenge from squidge.com.

Alphabet Challenge: Write a story where each subsequent paragraph begins with the next letter of the alphabet. You may begin with any letter, but must run through all 26 letters at least once.

"Zabini. Pass me the absinthe," Draco hissed to his fellow classmate. His whisper went unheard by the Potions professor, who probably wasn't listening to see if the Slytherins were talking at all.

"Absinthe?" Blaise queried, obviously perplexed. "Why?"

"Because I said so," Draco answered, getting impatient. The class wasn't going to watch Neville's cauldron forever. Though the pink bubbles that it was emitting were rather amusing to watch in the first five minutes, it quickly got boring - especially if you weren't a fan of pink.

Casting a dry look over at Draco, Blaise reached for the absinthe from its position in the middle of the table. It wasn't normally given out with potions kits, considering its potency and possible dangers, but Professor Snape had provided them with enough for this particular potion - Diary-Tongue Draught.

Diary-Tongue Draught would force the drinker to spill their deepest, darkest secrets, no matter what precautions they took. It was normally used for nothing more than a teenage prank - hence Draco's interest in the absinthe. The absinthe was supposed to be added after the potion was brought to a boil and the crushed dung beetle was thrown into the mix.

Even though Draco hadn't been watching the Gryffindors, he knew that Harry hadn't added the beetle. If the absinthe were to be added now, the draught would turn to a mist, spreading quickly to all of the Gryffindors... 'I'm a genius,' Draco gloated.

"For your abysmal potion-making skills," Snape began in his usual condescending tone. "Twenty points from Gryffindor." No Gryffindors groaned, however. The deduction was understandable; Neville's cauldron was now singing 'God Save the Queen' in E-flat while throwing off technicolor heart-shaped sparks. Snape apparently wasn't too concerned, for he returned to grading their essays.

"Give me the ingredient, Zabini! I don't like repeating myself." Draco's eyes were on the other side of the room, making sure that Professor Snape didn't witness his deed. A glass vial was slipped into his hand, and he grabbed it eagerly, not even thanking Blaise.

"Harry, you have to help me get this thing under control!" Neville squealed, trying to hold down his jigging cauldron.

"I don't quite know how to stop it, Neville. Ask Hermione... or Snape."

"Just go up there and ask him for help? Are you mad?" As the potion began to play the theme from Jaws, Neville wrung his hands in worry.

"Kindly move aside, please," an authoritative voice came from behind them. Hermione to the rescue...

"Let them be, Miss Granger," Snape snapped from his desk. "Longbottom won't always have you to bail him out of his fixes."

...Maybe not. Hermione huffed and returned to her seat, eyeing the warbling cauldron.

'Now or never!' Draco urged himself. Slipping toward the other side of the room, he uncorked the flask and put a sizeable amount into Harry's cauldron. Snickering softly, he crept back to his seat to watch the festivities.

"Oh, NO!" Neville cried as his cauldron began to make vrooming noises like a race car and rush around the room as if it had wheels. "Catch it!"

Put bluntly, no one caught it. It crashed into Harry's cauldron, knocking it over. The potion spilled from it, only to vaporize halfway out, wafting toward the Slytherin side of the room.

"Quick!" Draco shouted, diving under his desk. "Cover up!"

"Really, Draco," Pansy sniffed. "Do you think we'll fall for that old tri..." Her eyes suddenly glazed over and she sighed softly. "You know... I've always had the hots for that Ron Weasley..."

"Say WHAT?" half of the class bellowed. The other half fell off of their chairs.

"Tolkien rules!" screamed a random Slytherin from the back of the room.

"Unbelievable..." Ron whispered, staring at the whole lot of Slytherins, who suddenly seemed to procure strange interests with random things (or people).

Very carefully skirting the red cloud that was the Diary-Tongue Mist, Snape stepped to the Gryffindor side of the room and glared down at Harry. "I'm assuming that you had something to do with this?"

"What? Of course not, sir! My cauldron, it just-"

"Xylophones are my favorite instrument! I play my little cousin's when he's not around!" yelled Goyle suddenly, bringing the entire class, no matter how bespelled, back to earth.

"You're all insane!" Draco yelled, leaping to his feet and inadvertently inhaling a mouthful of the mist. "Oh, and by the way..." Draco turned and looked at Blaise.

"Zabini, you're rather cute for a hermaphrodite."

"AAH! Draco, you promised you'd never tell!"

Banging his wand on the desk for order, Snape called out to the class. "If you have inhaled some of the mist, step up to my desk to receive the Pepper Spray antidote."

"Can you guys believe that Snape wears polka-dotted pink undies?" Crabbe howled, slapping his knee.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Snape roared. "Slanderous... FIFTY POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN!"

Everyone quieted. Even the red mist evaporated.

"F-f-f-fifty points! Professor!" Draco groaned. The shock of the moment seemed to have cleared everyone's mind of the mist. Snape paused suddenly, putting his hands on a nearby desk.

"Go back to your common rooms, all of you!" As the students began to move, Snape called out, pausing one in his tracks.

"Hey, Potter!"

"Is there something you want, sir?" Harry stopped on the threshold; everyone else was already down the hall.

"Just wanted to say... nice arse."

Kinky thoughts rushed through Snape's mind as Harry ran down the hall, screaming at the top of his lungs and waving his arms over his head.

'Life sucks...' Snape mused dryly, stepping out of his class and locking the door behind him. Hopefully he could make it to the hospital wing without being stopped.

***

4/21/04 8:35 p.m. - 9: 14 p.m.