Do not sue, I make no money from you. If you wrote something I'm using, you generosity I hope I'm not abusing.

Because of the huge problems I was having with ffnet I do not have a listing for House Points on this chapter. If you're still interested please let me know! I am more than willing to bring it back. (Slytherin was in the lead at last count)

One last thing, I stopped breaking up the chapters with sub-chapters. Posting here and on schnoogle is a little harder than I thought so I will be trying to make things as easy for me as I can. ;)

Wednesday morning Neville was late as usual. He did have his assigned scroll and managed to (with the help of his new Remebral) actually come to class with everything he needed for Fifth Year Potions. 'But I'm still late,' he quietly slunk past the glowering Professor Snape and silently accepted the minus five House Points, for disrupting class. He noticed that Professor Moody was absent, 'Wonder what that means? She's almost always here.' He, and the rest of the class as well, failed to notice that their Potions Master was deliberately letting his hair fall in his eyes…blue eyes.

"Hi, Mione," he smiled as he took his usual place beside her. Hermione smiled back, though it was a little brief as she was also taking notes. When it was time to gather supplies he offered to go to the supplies cupboard.

"Thanks Neville…"

Hermione was looking at him kind of funny, so he rushed off, and managed to collide with Goyle. "Sorry," he stammered, offering to let the (much larger) Slytherin get to the cabinet first.

"Get out of my face Gryff," the (down right huge) boy snarled.

Neville scuffed at one corner of a stone that was not exactly flat, like the rest of the floor, and waited as Goyle, then Lavender, followed by Ron, Clausen and Blaise all went ahead of him. By the time he got back to Hermione she was in the middle of a nervous breakdown because most of the other pairs of students had started brewing already.

It was always fun to watch Hermione work, 'She is so serious.' Neville thought, 'Like she needs to prove herself every time we get an assignment.'

"Neville would you please hand me the Gillyweed," holding her hand out Hermione did not look up from her notes, "and could you cut the Rocktripe and grind up the Lobster shells? I like the haircut."

"Sure," he handed her the jar of soggy wormy looking weeds and did a double take on her last comment. "M-my hair?" His hand flew up to cover the top of his head, as though checking to make sure he still had hair, 'Well since Fred and George released that Balding Bubblegum you just can't be too careful,' reasured that he still had hair, he tried to act natural. "Uh, what about my hair?" 'I am such a looser.'

Glancing up from her diced Gillyweed Hermione gave him another funny look, "You got it cut, over the weekend. I like the pageboy style that's all."

"I went to see my grandmother, she wanted me to get it cut… you're the only person to notice." Nervous again he ran a hand through his hair. 'I'm supposed to be grinding Lobster shells.' He sprang into action, almost knocked the jar of Gillyweed over onto Hermione's notes, and began to furiously blush while turning the dark brown claw shells to dust.

~

Stalking about the classroom Snape came out with another question, "Does anyone other than Miss Granger know what type of Lobster shell is used in the making of the Water Substitute potion?" He gave a careless nod to one of the few Slytherin hands that were up, "Yes Miss Clausen."

"The shells must be from a Lobster twenty-eight years old and the shell must have been molted and collected under a full moon. Other than that there are no requirements."

"Very good, ten Points to Slytherin."

'And so it goes,' Neville thought while slicing the Rocktripe into thin ribbons.

"Miss Patill," Snape turned on her with a speed that made the other Gryffindors wince, some how he must have known she hadn't studied much. "Would you please tell us what purpose a Water Substitute serves."

Neville bit his lip, they were about to loose more points because the latest edition of Teen Witch had come in.

"Five Points from Gryffindor, perhaps Mister Malfoy?" Snape favoured the Slytherin every chance he got.

"Kuschman's Dreamless Sleep Potion, the strongest Dreamless Sleep Potion in circulation today, was first produced by Alfred Kuschman. It calls for a water base," Draco reciprocated the favoritism by nearly always having the right answer. "But water, being comprised of two parts Hydrogen and one part Oxygen, has a Hydrogen count that would neutralize the active ingredients of the solution." He sent a superior smirk toward the Gryffindor half of the room before concluding, "Kuschman's Water Substitute was developed twenty years after the potion, by Theodore Kuschman, Alfred Kuschman's son. Before that the Dreamless Sleep Potion was just a theory."

"Fifteen Points to Slytherin, you obviously did more than the required class preparatory research." Snape was not pleased for long.

"Almost done there," Hermione asked as she added the powdered Lobster claws, and stewed over the fact that her extra research was never given credit.

"Ya, just a sec… ok done." He handed over the Rocktripe and waited patiently to receive his next order.

~

As it turned out the Lobster claws had been too finely ground but Hermione had saved the potion anyway. The saving of their potion had taken a long time though and Hermione was stressing out again.

'She isn't racing everyone else to try and finish before them, she's just racing herself and trying to finish before her personal time limit runs out.' Neville was trying to help by handing her what she asked for, when she asked for it.

"Neville?" she was getting slightly frazzled, "Neville, where are the whole Moon Snail shells?"

'Oops!' "Sorry Hermione, I'll get them now," he headed back toward the cabinet. As Neville walked away he turned back to ask how many snail shells they would need, "NO!" he shouted and raised his hand like he could stop the catastrophe in mid motion.

Everything went kind of slow and fast at the same time. A bolt of white flame shot out from his fingertips and incinerated the Bloodworms as they fell from the spoon into the cauldron. There was a slight ozone smell to the air, like just before a lightning strike. Every pair of eyes was staring at Neville, as he numbly lowered his hand.

Hermione looked down and saw that she had, while checking her notes, picked up the wrong spoon. Instead of an eighth of a gram of Bloodworms she had been adding a half-gram. Pale and faint she let the measuring spoon fall to the floor. The tiny clatter made everyone jump.

"That will be fifty Points from Gryffindor," Snape's voice was strained, "for trying to kill everyone in the room." Licking his lips the Potion Master took another breath, he turned to Neville, "And twenty Points to Gryffindor for saving our arses. I want to see you after class, Mister Longbottom, the rest of you are dismissed."

~

Neville tried to sit still on the stone bench as he waited. Snape had left him outside the Headmaster's office, 'I wonder how much detention using Unframed Magic, without permission, is worth. I hope it's not worth expulsion, Professor Snape seemed mad enough to throw me out.'

Hurried footsteps sounded on the revolving stairwell. A moment later Professor Moody was at the door, ignoring Neville, she knocked once and walked in.

'Well,' Neville thought with a strong foreboding, 'at least now I know where she is. Small comfort there. Could the unframed Magic have ruined some of the Potion supplies the way Framed Magic would?'

~

"Neville?" The Headmaster smiled from the open door. "Would you be so kind as to join us?"

Neville jerked out of his thoughts, he took a seat on the plush sofa that the Headmaster indicated and he took a Lemondrop when offered. "Professor Dumbledore, sir?" He stammered as the elderly man was situating himself on a floral settee, "I'm late for Herbology now, sir." A hand clamped onto his shoulder from behind,

"He has enough, it would appear," Professor Snape pronounced without letting go of Neville. "I don't like it Sir, but unless you suddenly care about my arguments…" the Headmaster did not move a millimetre, "I'll do it anyway then."

"Thank you Severus," Dumbledore sounded relieved, "I think you should start tonight. Mister Longbottom, Herbology can wait a few minutes but Potions can not. Severus, Severa, you are dismissed."

The two nodded and left.

"Neville," the Headmaster smiled benevolently, "do you know what happened in Potions today?"

~

As they were nearing the door to the Potions classroom, the female held her hand out, just far enough, so that the male caught it at he edge of his vision. He slowed and she came alongside.

"I can take this, if you want," she offered with a nod to the room full of expectant students.

He shrugged agreement and headed past the classroom, toward the lab. "Think we'll make dinner?"

She walked with him a little ways further, "The Dark Lord called them yesterday, I think we're fine for a few days."

He shook his head, "Someone will die," he whispered as he left her to teach the class. "He knows something, and I will be forced to kill again."

She let him go they would both end up killing again, soon, and they both knew it. "Ten points for being obnoxious Miss Pool. Today you will be brewing a Lysander's Growth Inhibitor, can anyone tell me why one would wish to do such a thing?"

~

A knock at the door announced the Gryffindor's arrival, "Come in Mister Longbottom, no sense making us later for dinner than I expect we will be anyway." The male rubbed at his eyes and the candles dimmed slightly.

As Neville stepped in to the Magical Self-defense classroom he started, "Professor Moody, I hadn't expected…" he looked down at his feet suddenly very sure that he was getting himself in more trouble.

The pseudo-Snape shrugged out of his robes and draped them over a chair. Stepping onto the mat he crossed his arms over his chest, "Mister Longbottom, I assume that the Headmaster told you more than simply what happened this morning." He cocked an eyebrow and waited. 'The boy looks pale, I'll have to try and tone down the acid or he'll freak and we'll have another accident.'

Neville tugged at the top clasp on his robe. Not unfastening it, just nervously tugging, "Sir, he said that if I didn't get proper training on how to control it, I would end up hurting someone. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"So you brave your worst fear in coming here and facing me just to save the innocent? Typical Gryffindor brashness," he curled his lip in disgust and walked to the far side of the mat. "Well? You are wearing something under that aren't you," he indicated Neville's robes.

"Yes, Sir." Jerkily Neville tugged his standard issue student robe off and draped it across an empty chair to the left of Snape's. He was not wearing his Gryffindor uniform; instead he had on what would have looked very like a Muggle Fencing uniform, if anyone present knew what one looked like.

He couldn't get his shock back beneath the surface before Neville turned back to face him. Almost taking a step, forward or back he wasn't sure, he forced the memories down. The female gave him a concerned look but did nothing more than symbolically box Neville in, setting her robe on the chair to the left of his robe. If he spoke he knew it would sound wrong, his throat was too tight, remaining silent he waited for the female to do something.

"Here," she pushed a pair of Dragonhide gloves at Neville, "These will be a part of your uniform, until you are able to control your power."

"My uniform?" Neville repeated.

She fluidly dropped to sit cross legged on the mat, "Yes Mister Longbottom, your uniform. The one you wear every day… now includes a pair of gloves."

He put on the left glove without looking, but feeling his finger tips brushing bare skin he looked down.

"Well," she smiled bitterly, "A pair of half gloves if you want to get technical. You will wear hem at all times, until you are fully trained."

"You see Mister Longbottom," the male took over, "as the Headmaster has no doubt told you, most Wizards can only use Magic when it is framed by the limitations that a chant or hand motion create. Rarely, a Wizard is of pure enough blood that he can use Magic without those..."

"Fences," the female offered, "safety lines, boundaries, walls-"

"You have, for whatever reason, a rare strength. And we will teach you to control it-"

"To protect others,"

"As well as yourself."

Neville turned his attention from one to the other as they began to speak for each other. It was clearly confusing him, but that was the point. The male pulled at one of his own half-gloves, 'Walks in here thinking he knows exactly what to expect, Hell on Earth, if only it could be that simple.'

"I," the female drew the boy's attention again, "will be your sparring partner and demonstration model, he will be your coach and guide. Night study will not be feasible, we will need to work out a better schedule. Before dinner though, you need to learn one lesson."

When she fell silent Neville turned to 'Snape' expecting further comment. The male though simply raised his right hand and fired a bolt of blue-white lightning at the seated figure. Neville fell back in shock, but the charge was deflected with a mere defensive movement of one hand.

Too stunned to say anything Neville took another step back.

"That was an unchecked charge," The male spoke softly and without emotion or tone. "Elemental charges are easier to handle, but I could just as easily throw a spell. You are not that strong, but you are still dangerous."

"How strong are you?"

The question was unexpected and the male thought for a moment before answering, "I am the living end."

Neville blinked waited then turned hopefully toward the imposter Professor Moody.

She smiled ghostily, "I am the bastard child of the Apocalypse and Armageddon. You however, are a sixteen year old boy with stronger than average blood."

~

They worked for another half-hour. Getting Neville to duplicate his show from that morning was harder than he had thought it would be. Finally though he was able to get Neville to, almost reliably, fire off a weak charge that took the form of a small ball of orange flames.

'The easiest possible thing he could do,' the male rolled his blue-black eyes behind the hair that kept falling in the way. "Now," he said taking a more open stance than he was normally comfortable with, "come here you will need to be close to see what happens."

Reluctantly, Neville moved closer. The male lost patients with the whole hesitation bit that Neville seemed to have going, and just grabbed his sleeve and yanked him in against his chest.

Now, with the boy standing with his back to his chest, the male leaned forward slightly, "Watch closely." Raising his right hand he built a fire charge very slowly.

A warm glow began to concentrate around his fingertips. It was pale and dim but gradually the glow became tiny flames that danced in spheres, nearly touching his skin. The light built to a critical point, the small orbs joined into one larger ball that flew from his hand in a single bolt of white flame, exactly like the one Neville had loosed in class.

"It all happens very quickly," he spoke softly by Neville's ear, "and if you want to interrupt the chain reaction the only chance you have, is when the energy is being gathered."

It felt like the female had reflected the bolt of fire back on him when the pain hit. He closed his jaw so quickly he caught his tongue and pierced it with an incisor. The air left his lungs and wouldn't come back he curled inward and caught Neville to his chest.

Neville panicked. The female was pulling him away from the boy and then the darkness took him back. He did not have a last thought, the pain was too great.

~

'I'm on his bed,' Snape thought again.

It didn't make sense yet. He knew how it happened, the summons coming while he was walking down the hall with Professor Moody, the apparation to the Dark Lord's chateau (formerly the finest chateau that Lucious owned, on the continent of course) and being escorted down a hall by Wormtail. But being nearly naked in Voldemort's bed still didn't quite make sense.

And all Voldemort had been doing, since he had gotten Snape in his bed, was stroke his back while they lay on their right sides facing away from the fire.