Reviewers! Angel, don't worry, everybody will get their just desserts. The you-know-what is about to hit the fan, but it ain't over till the bearded man speaks. You know, I always thought that "familiar" was just some odd term for a pet, but it turns out that it's a witch or wizard's spirit guide in the form of an animal … which is pretty neat. I do not think Snape is of the "batty" persuasion, although I wouldn't mind keeping Terry. LOL Sailor, thanks as always for the rockin' support. I'm happy you're enjoying and that you liked that major scene in the last bit! It was hard to write. Freja: no, Dumbledore did not tamper with the bats, if that's what you mean. Thanks for reviewing. And Kiwi: I added one sentence in Chapter 12 that hopefully will make the distraction thing clearer. Let me know if it worked. And the fic hasn't come down with "Mione"-itis. Good. By the way, I'm blown away by the praise. I have some non-fanfic in the works, but none of it is published. :D You liked the itty-bitty Harry story? Hooray! I had fun writing it. Glad you enjoyed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Explanations

Ron blew out his candle, and Hermione made to bolt, but it was too late. The headmaster and their least favorite professor were already inside the dormitory. They were trapped.

"Stay where you are," Dumbledore said firmly, just as Snape pointed his wand ahead of him and commanded, "Accio Billywig!"

Nothing happened.

"Accio Firewhiskey!" Snape said again. "Accio Opal Sugar!"

Again, nothing. Hermione's summoning charms had been airtight then, Ron thought. Snape looked very cross. Unfortunately, his anger was matched by his persistence and after a bit of menacing them and glaring around, he prowled into the bathroom. But thanks to Ron's earlier efforts, it was spotless.

"DAMN IT!" Snape shouted, stomping out to Dumbledore. "It's clean, completely clean!"

Ron fought down a smile. It seemed that the Potions Master, normally so on top of everything, was about two steps behind everybody else. Good. Serve the bastard right. Snape was snarling in frustration – perhaps he'd come in here hoping to pin something on Harry. And Ron stiffened. A terrible bubbly feeling began to rise in his stomach.

Snape was hoping to pin something on Harry.

He was looking for Fizz ingredients! Ron's stomach did another flip-flop. He'd kept his own counsel about this, and he knew Hermione would rather die than tell. So how did the greasy git figure it out?

Snape broke Ron's concentration with a disgusted snort and wandered over to the beds. Dumbledore mumbled a spell and the room brightened just a little. Ron tossed his Quidditch book aside. Hermione shifted nervously next to him. Dumbledore ignored them both and wandered over to Harry's bed. How Harry had slept through Snape's ruckus Ron didn't know, but his friend was still out cold. The headmaster observed the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest for a moment.

"Miss Granger?" he asked mildly, turning around. "What are you doing in here?"

"Hermione came into help Harry," Ron blurted out.

"Yes, I did," Hermione continued, and Ron watched nervously as she smoothly changed his truth into a convincing lie. "Harry ate something that didn't agree with him. Ron and I were planning on having a night in, and Ron went to get something from his room when he heard Harry retching. Poor thing," she murmured sadly, looking over at Harry. "Whatever it was knocked him for a loop. Anyway, he needs his rest, and I was just leaving. Is there some reason he's here?" she finished, nodding at Snape.

Snape curled a lip in disdain. Dumbledore, for his part, looked long and hard at Hermione … and smiled.

Ron managed to breathe again. Hermione's antennae must have gone up at Snape's antics, too, and she had quite possibly just bluffed them out of a terrible situation. He'd have to remember to thank her later.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Professor Snape, come with me. It's obvious that Mr. Potter needs his rest," Dumbledore said. He left the dormitory with two wizards and a witch in tow.

Dumbledore led them all down to the common area, and they took seats on the couches. He regarded Hermione Granger again. Not for nothing was this young woman a candidate for Head Girl next year. She was brave, extraordinarily devoted to her friends, and far too clever by half. Lying, however, was not one of her strengths. He had to stop her before she got herself in too deep.

"Professor Snape is here, Miss Granger," Dumbledore began, "Because we have solid, incontrovertible evidence that Mr. Potter took a highly illegal and dangerous potion, and that you two not only covered for him, but attacked Professor Snape to get your hands on potions ingredients, presumably to help your friend."

Granger did a good job of looking shocked, Dumbledore thought, but there were cracks in her horrified veneer.

"My God," she said. "It's not enough that man had to come charging into Potions like a lunatic and demand my head on a plate? With all due respect, Headmaster, he's lying! That's the most outrageous accusation I've ever heard!"

Snape was on his feet before Dumbledore could stop him. "Knurfle Paste," he fumed. "Carrow Lily Root. Kelpie Scales. You mentioned all these ingredients by name after you left me for dead! I saw it! Professor Dumbledore wanted us to get up to your wretched tower immediately, but I insisted on checking my stores before we came. The levels in those vials were low!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Profesor, stop. Miss Granger, it is not an accusation. It is the truth. You Obliviated Professor Snape."

Granger had gone very white in the face of Snape's diatribe, but at least she'd had enough sense to stop protesting.

"And believe me, I understand why," Dumbledore went on. "He is not very friendly under the best of circumstances … I can't even imagine how grumpy he must have been on Wednesday night. And his attack on you is inexcusable. He will be dealt with."

Snape growled. And before Granger could stop herself, she said …

"Good."

Weasley gasped.

"Good?" Dumbledore asked. "So you want him punished? You admit he attacked you? You admit what you did in return?"

That last question had come out rather piercing. He didn't think Granger's face could have been more pale and frightened. And finally, her bravado fell to pieces. She looked down at the carpet and nodded slowly.

"Hermione, no!" Weasley protested. "Professor, I attacked Snape! It was all me!" he said desperately. "I hit him with a shovel! She didn't do anything!"

"You are a more pitiful liar than you are a potion maker, Weasley, and that's saying something," Snape sneered.

"Professor, be quiet or I will ask you to leave. Mr. Weasley, are you protecting Miss Granger or admitting your own guilt?"

"Admi–? … The first one!" the boy yelled. "I want to see this 'incontrovertible' proof of yours. Hermione here might feel pressured to confess just because you said she did something and Snape pulled some random ingredients out of his arse, but I won't!"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Language, Mr. Weasley, and I'll have you know that Professor Snape guards his room with security recorders. One of these picked up the events of Wednesday night. Your actions and your conversation with Hermione afterward are quite clear."

Weasley looked outraged. "This is insane! You've got nothing on either of us, and you also have nothing on Harry. There's no proof that he was taking Fizz! None at all! His room is clean, you saw that yourself!"

There was a sudden silence, and Granger was now staring at Weasley with intent to throttle. It rather amused Dumbledore.

"I beg your pardon?" he said mildly. "I never said what potion Harry was taking."

Now Weasley was as white as Granger. Dumbledore stood up, as did Snape. The two students remained seated, staring up at them – she in shock, he in fear.

"And that, Mr. Weasley, is quite an adequate admission of guilt," said Dumbledore. "Granted, there are extenuating circumstances. I will take those into account. But I cannot condone your and Miss Granger's behavior, or Mr. Potter's, for that matter. I expect you three in my office tomorrow morning at 10 am. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Hermione said, feeling rather faint. Ron, she noticed, didn't even reply.

"Excellent. Goodnight."

Dumbledore strode off. Snape cast a foul glance back at her and Ron.

"I've got my eye on you," he snarled, and clambered out of the portrait hole, which shut behind him.

Hermione stared off into space, unable to even turn an angry glare on Ron for being so abominably stupid. It was over. It was all over. There was a click of a door somewhere behind them, but they both ignored it.

"Well," she said dully, "Tomorrow morning we'd better tell Harry that we're being expelled."

"And why," Ron added. "We owe him that much."

"Oh, yes. Won't that be fun."

"We'll be lucky if our parents don't kill us," Ron mumbled, hanging his head.

"Oh, please, Ron, forget the parents. We'll be lucky if Harry ever trusts us again."

With great effort, Hermione heaved herself off the couch and Ron followed her. Together they tromped up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and headed in, only to find the lights were all the way up.

Harry had shifted position. Previously dead to the world and lying flat, he was now wide awake with his glasses on, and had propped himself up with a couple of pillows. The blankets were all over the place.

He did not look pleased. Hermione glanced at Ron, then at Harry.

"Harry, you should be asleep," she said quietly.

Harry was possessed of many unusual skills, but he was only really proud of a few. One of these was the ability to feign sleep to perfection. It had given him an advantage with Snape in the room. Once the party had migrated, he took the opportunity to wobble clumsily to the door and listen in on the conversation down below. And what a heartbreaking conversation it had been. He'd never felt more helpless or angry or confused, and he just couldn't believe the accusations.

Ever since the bathroom, his mind had been alarmingly clear. He'd realized a few minutes ago that it was due to the last of the Fizz blowing out of him. So he'd had some time to think. And right now, he was thinking about his friends. Covering for him? Helping him? How could Ron and Hermione have done either? They didn't even know! They were being framed, that was obvious. So why had they confessed?

Hermione and Ron came into the room timidly.

"Harry, you should be asleep," said Hermione.

Harry just shook his head. "I heard everything," he said, his voice raspy and dry. "Hermione, how could they do that to you? How could you just confess to some cock-and-the-bull story that Snape made up? And Ron, what was that rubbish about a shovel?"

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, then back at Harry. He sat down on Harry's right. Hermione went round and flopped down on Harry's left. And Harry waited. Hermione looked like she was gathering her nerve.

"Harry, that was the truth," said Hermione. "We did attack Snape." She looked down. "And we did cover for you."

Her words stopped Harry cold. "What?"

"You haven't had any Fizz since Thursday evening," Hermione explained. The rest came out in a rush. "Ron and I found out what you were doing about a week ago. We realized the only way to help you was to make you quit using Fizz cold turkey. So we, erm, did away with your supply and I … Look, Fizz is a poison, Harry. But there's an antidote. We put it in your drink for two days. It cleaned you out and got all the Fizz out of your system, but, well, that's what made you feel so awful."

Harry had no words. He stared at Hermione with his mouth hanging open in shock and anger. So his best friends knew what had plagued him for two days. They knew, and they'd caused all this misery. He glared at Ron, who looked very guilty. Things were clicking into place with alarming speed, and Harry didn't like it one bit.

His upper lip curled rapidly, and his untidy hair had dried. It was standing up every which way; he looked remarkably like an escaped mental patient. The illusion was complete when he exploded at Hermione, spit and anger flying in equal proportions.

"I don't believe this! WHAT IN THE FLYING BLUE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?" he yelled, although he went hoarse very fast. "You insane, sadistic … WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?"

He coughed then, which rather ruined the death glare he threw at Ron. Ron looked ashamed. Hermione, however, did not back down. She got a very cross look on her face and glared at him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said flatly, "but there's been a mix-up. You see, you did this to you."

It was as though time had stopped. The three of them were frozen on their spots, a triangle of flaming emotions, staring at each other. Ron was worried, glancing back and forth between his two best friends. Hermione had her honey-brown eyes trained calmly on Harry. And Harry was seething at Hermione and thinking that he would like nothing better than to take her life.

Fortunately for Hermione, he was too weak and exhausted to try anything like that. He finally cowed under her steady gaze, and stared at his covers. The more he thought about it (though he really didn't want to), the more he realized Hermione had a point. If Fizz really was as bad as she said, then he was well rid of it.

She reached across him for his glass of water and held it to his lips. "Here, drink. You nearly blew your throat apart yelling at us."

Harry drank until he finished the glass and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Yes, well, I tend to shout when I'm surprised," he bit out sourly.

"So do I – you should have heard me when Ron brained Snape with that shovel," Hermione said.

"Oi, at least I didn't Obliviate the bastard!" said Ron.

"Neither did I, by my reckoning!" she spat at him.

"Well then, by your 'reckoning' none of us should be getting thrown out of school tomorrow, but all three of us need to be in Dumbledore's office at 10! Doesn't take a genius to figure out what happens next!" Ron shouted.

"Ron, stop," Harry said. He'd effectively ended their fight, but he took one look at Hermione and felt his temper rise again. "I still can't believe you did that to me. D'you have any idea the hell I went through for two days? It was awful! And worse, I couldn't go to Madame Pomfrey for it! And you knew why!"

Hermione picked at some lint on Harry's comforter and sighed. All at once, she looked very tired and sad, but equally resolute. "If you want me to apologize, I can't," she said.

Harry regarded her. "I'm not interested in apologies. I want an explanation. Right now."

Hermione very slowly tucked some bushy hair behind her ear, and Ron, sensing imminent danger, cautiously tried to creep off the bed.

"You stay put," Harry snarled at him.

Ron froze on the spot. Harry crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Hermione.

"You raided the dorm," he said, after a bit. "That's why you were in here when I came in with Ron."

"Yes," Hermione said.

"And Ron, in his infinite wisdom, sent my hip flask to heaven-knows-where."

Ron sighed. "Look mate, I'm sorry about that."

Harry turned his tired eyes on his friend. "Get me my trousers back, and we'll call it even."

"Done," said Ron fervently. Harry got the idea his friend was just plain scared and probably had no idea how to retrieve those trousers.

"And you cooked up the antidote," Harry said, looking at Hermione.

"Yes."

Harry eyed her for a moment. "Because Fizz is a poison."

"If you take too much, it either destroys your bloodstream or fries your brain," Hermione said tightly.

Harry sensed danger, but he held firm. "And how did you find this out?"

He was immediately sorry he asked. Hermione stumbled through her explanation, tearing up the whole way. By the end of it, she was berating him for his shoddy research and dangerous lack of common sense.

Harry wasn't sure he agreed with her assessment. Something must have shown on his face, because then Hermione she got really angry. She called him a "selfish idiot." She said he'd been acting like a "disaffected introvert," whatever that meant. And she called him a "reckless arsehole" with so much vehemence that she speckled his cheek with spit.

Then she started crying.

Harry had no idea what to do. But he decided right then that no matter how terrible he'd felt for the past two days, it was nothing to how he felt now. How ironic that something as innocuous as skimming an article had put his life in danger and gotten his friends in serious trouble. This whole mess was his fault. As usual.

He didn't even know where to begin. Ron and Hermione would probably never trust him again after this fiasco, and he couldn't blame them. He suddenly couldn't bear to meet Ron's frightened eyes or look at Hermione's tear-streaked face. Slowly and sadly, moving like a whipped dog, he tried to hide.

Hermione wiped her eyes and apologized and protested, and Ron made a grab for him, but Harry ignored their words and hands. He started to burrow as deeply as he could under the covers, tossing one of his pillows to the side and pulling the blankets over his head.

"I'm tired," he said, muffled by the comforter. "I'd like to go to sleep."

Ron made a couple of annoyed sounds, but mercifully got the lights. Harry waited until it was dark before poking his head out. He listened to Ron padding back to his own bed and waited for a shift on the mattress next to him, which would mean Hermione had given up and left, but he waited a long time and the shift never came.

"Harry?" she said finally.

"What?"

"Look, I'm sorry I said those things to you."

Harry sighed. Leave it to Hermione to apologize for being right. "S'all right. I was a reckless arsehole. And you ought to go to bed."

"Yes, I should," she said.

But instead of getting up, Harry felt her shift next to him and lie down at his side. He was shocked. Hermione intended to sleep on his bed! He couldn't understand why even wanted to be in the same room with him, and here she was, by his side.

"You're not afraid?" he asked.

"Why would I be afraid?"

"Well, I attract disaster," Harry pointed out glumly. "And when I don't attract it, I make it. I'd rather the roof not cave in on us."

Harry waited a bit for her reply. When she did, however, it wasn't with words. The sound she made … it took him a second to realize she was laughing. At him. He scowled.

"What?" he snapped. "What's so funny?"

"You!" she said. "Honestly, Harry, have you always been this good at heaping blame on yourself, or is it a cultivated skill?"

"I beg your pardon?" said Harry.

"She's right, mate," came Ron's voice from the next bed. "Hell, I'm amazed you're not still screaming at us for what we did."

"Yes," Hermione seconded. "I thought you'd have nothing to do with us after this, the way we tricked you, and here you are, trying to take responsibility for the whole thing."

Harry wasn't sure what to feel after he heard this. Their show of solidarity and support made him feel a little squirmy inside, like he'd been even more of an arse than he'd imagined. And worse, he couldn't think of a thing to say in his own defense.

"It really will be all right, you know," Hermione said, breaking the silence. "No matter what happens tomorrow."

"Really?" Harry asked. He'd been quite positive that Hermione would be either furious or terrified at the prospect of seeing the Headmaster, but it didn't sound like it.

"Really. And Harry, I wish you'd stop bottling everything up. You very nearly gave yourself permanent brain damage and you scared the hell out of both of us."

Harry sighed. This demanded an answer. "Well, you won't believe me," he said, "but I actually thought that the potion would keep me from making your lives miserable." He gave a hollow laugh. "So much for that."

Hermione moved a bit and bumped into his shoulder. "You really don't understand. We're your friends, Harry. Did you think I would ignore you? That Ron wouldn't see? I hope you're sorry about this."

"Oh, I am sorry, very," said Harry fervently.

"And you won't ever do anything like this again?"

"I won't ever do anything like this again."

"Once more, with feeling," Hermione said dramatically.

Harry laughed. "I won't repeat this, I promise. I learned my lesson. No more rubbish potions for me."

"Good," Hermione replied gently.

Harry could just make out the outline of her jaw in the dark. It shifted as she smiled. Harry smiled back. And he stared at her for a moment. Ron was shifting around in his bed, obviously still awake. They were alone.

In later years, when he looked back on tonight, Harry wouldn't recall what exactly triggered his desire to talk about it. Maybe it was the darkness. Maybe it was Hermione's body heat, or the funny shuffling noise Ron was making. Maybe it was their devotion. All he knew was that he would never get a better opportunity than now to speak, and his friends deserved to hear.

"Hermione, Ron," he began, "I … You … Look, you two saved my life. And there's something about my life that you need to know."

Hermione propped herself up on one elbow and looked at him with interest. Harry could hear Ron sitting up. He licked his lips.

"It's about the prophecy. The ball that we destroyed at the Department of Mysteries was just a record, but Dumbledore showed it to me in his office. He had a copy of it in his Pensieve, because he heard it firsthand from Professor Trelawney."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, and Ron spluttered, "That old bat? Please!"

"Look, I know you both think she's a fraud, and ordinarily I'd agree with you, but this wasn't her teashop nonsense. It was real."

"What does it say?" Hermione asked. She sounded a bit terrified.

"Something about the Dark Lord marking me as his equal, and I shall have power the Dark Lord knows not, and …" Harry sighed. This was the part he hated the most. "Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives," he recited. "I either have to kill him or be killed myself to end the war."

There was a long silence.

"Bloody hell," said Ron.

Harry normally would have agreed with him, but just explaining the prophecy to the two people in the world most likely to flip out about it had depleted his energy.

"Harry James Potter, you are not going to die," Hermione said firmly. "We won't allow it."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He just blinked as she started shuffling about again, making sure that he was warm enough. "Besides, you're the strongest person we know," she went on, dragging a corner of his wrap under the covers, and fixing things. "You'll get him."

"Giving me a bit too much credit, I think," he said.

"No, giving you too much credit would be to say you were the smartest person we know," Ron quipped to his right.

Harry smiled. Hermione, though, did not.

"Harry, we love you," she said, her voice tightening. "And if you ever do something this hopelessly retarded again, you won't have to worry about Voldemort killing you. We'll take care of it. Understand?" she finished, lying down at his side again.

Harry chuckled. "Yes."

"Good," she said. "And since we're in this anti-stupidity vein, you should be aware of something."

"What?"

"Well, with the Fizz, you were brilliantly focused. Your grades, as I'm sure you noticed, have climbed."

"Yes?" Harry said, feeling a little nervous.

"It seems," Hermione continued, "That you have set a precedent. And if you slip back into your old ways, everyone will start to wonder what happened to you for three weeks. None of us can afford the suspicion."

"I don't understand," said Harry.

Hermione sighed. "You have to keep studying, you have to keep focused, and you have to stay calm in front of Snape. On your own, this time."

Harry groaned. How on earth was he going to do this? Face Snape without the Fizz? He'd rather wrestle an Erumpent.

"You must, Harry," Hermione chided. "You can't give the man any more reasons to ruin your life, and besides, you're doing so well."

Harry examined the idea of studying more. Granted, he'd done a lot of it in the past few weeks, but that was mostly because there was no joy left in his life. Now that the Fizz was out of him and he was fully in control of his faculties, his first thought was of playing Quidditch again. But then he bit his lip. There was no reason he couldn't be a good Seeker and a better student. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was time for a change.

"I'll try," Harry finally offered.

Hermione snorted. "Don't try, Harry. Do. Now, we've kept you up for far too long. Get some sleep. We all have to be somewhere tomorrow."

Harry blinked at the ceiling miserably. Of course. Dumbledore. Their punishments. Oh, tomorrow was going to be a very bad day, he could tell. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about it. It was still a while before the cozy darkness, the heat of the bed, and his exhaustion carried him away.

TBC

We're turning the corner, folks. The final "real" chapter of Fizz will be up next Monday, followed (soon) by an epilogue.