A/N: I CONFESS TO HAVE SLIPPED OUT OF FANFICTION FOR A VERY LONG TIME. I CONFESS TO HAVE BEEN TEMPORARILY DISGUSTED BY THE IDEA OF D/G. I CONFESS TO HAVE BEEN REINTRODUCED TO FANFICTION AND TO HAVE REATTAINED A LOVE FOR THAT SHIP WHICH I MUST SAY NEVER QUITE LEFT MY DOCK OF IDEA.

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear . . . Harry Potter is not mine. If he were, don't you think I'd be quite busy writing some where else?

. . . Honestly, lawyers. . . .

Too Far Gone

Chapter 6: Face-Off With the Face of Terror

'Someone,' Snape growled, 'Has critically torn the smooth process of refilling ingredient bottles.'

He glared at the class of stiff-backed fifth years. From behind him, he grabbed a small jar and held it up to his audience of terrified students.

Little Amber squeaked solemnly, for she recognized the beautiful handwriting which so ironically misspelled 'Acromantula Essence': it was her own. Ginny, on the other hand, was so dumbfounded as to why the jar could cause so much irate towards her Potions Master at all. It looked innocent enough. Sure, it didn't have an 'o,' but perhaps the labeler of the container wasn't too surprised to be labeling it.

Snape kept the jar of 'Acrmantula' Essence in the air for a bit longer and scowled at the class for even longer. It appeared he didn't think his message was quite clear.

'It seems I have been teaching a class of dunderheads all along, then,' he snarled, and his pasty face twisted in a most unpleasant manner. 'Not one of you can deduce that which I have from this mistake?'

The Potions professor glared at the pathetic bunch of nervous teenagers before him. He rolled his eyes and his gaze landed on Amber. He inwardly grinned. He knew who exactly was to blame for the little spelling mistake, but it was just more amusing to creatively toy with the way he would get around to confronting her about it.

'Miss Boggle,' he pronounced somewhat too pleasantly. He was grinning manically.

'Y—yes, professor?' Amber answered mechanically.

'Miss Boggle, you are a very intelligent, focused, and humble girl. Tell me, what do you think would lead to the cause of the overlooking of the spelling of Acromantula Essence?'

Amber's eyes widened to the size of Cauldron Cakes and she slumped a little in her seat. She chanced a glance at Alexa, who was sitting next to her, but she was gnawing furiously on her thumbnail and looking stubbornly at the floor.

When Amber didn't answer right away, Snape's pallid countenance could not be any more frighteningly foul than it was then. He said simply, 'Miss Boggle, kindly explain why one would mistakenly misspell Acromantula.'

It's not that big of a deal that I misspelled Acromantula—I once saw 'Head' spelled 'Hedd' in there! Why is he picking on me? I thought he favoured me, she thought angrily. But she decided to maintain a calm and resolved complex.

'Miss Boggle?' Snape said once again.

Amber smiled and said airily, 'Professor Snape.'

Snape raised an eyebrow at her; she wasn't one to cheekily counter.

Amber inhaled rather profusely before managing her next string of words. 'What I mean to say is, Professor Snape, if one were to misspell Acromantula, wouldn't the misspeller simply be distraught?'

'Precisely,' Snape said.

And although Amber knew he was going to further elaborate, she decided to take his little pause as an opportunity to walk the sidestreets of an interlude. 'Precisely,' she repeated, in a tone of closure.

At her remark the Potions Master's eyebrows became entangled and united into one perfectly knit line parallel to the straight line presently being performed by his wan lips. 'And why would one be distraught, Miss Boggle?' he spat. It seemed to be a perfect and unexpected battle of patience between the obnoxious teacher and collected, though inwardly disbelieving, student.

Little Amber was behaving rather unusually. In fact, it seemed to Liza she was merely unaccustomed to a professor lending her so much attention that she literally could not handle it and therefore was raising the stakes with what might just as well be a fantasy—no one could be upset with Little Amber; it had to be some sort of . . . alternate reality, or something.

'Perhaps one would be distraught with his or her surroundings, professor. I can tell you—it is quite impossible to complete much work when a completely biased, ferrety, and nevertheless arrogant boy is unjustly assigned "supervisor" during a detention he solely caused,' Amber answered.

Ginny turned to look at her friend. Little Amber had never so much uttered more than a 'Hello' and 'Goodbye' once a week to her in the whole year; how could it be that her carefully crafted words were being wasted on rightfully insulting a most infamously respected professor?

The Potions Master was entirely speechless. He almost gave into to gaping, but he could never be reduced to shamefully exposing his pride, which was currently severely wounded by disbelief. 'I see,' he muttered distastefully. 'Miss Boggle, you have landed Gryffindor a loss of twenty-five points for your indirect use of disrespect. You can also answer to the reproach of your friends, for you have also achieved an extra two weeks of detention with your current supervisor.'

'I shall see to that, then. Although, before you continue, professor, may I inquire as to the quaint blatancy of your hypocrisy?' she said.

'I beg your pardon?' Snape said harshly, which here means 'Shut up now or I shall be forced to deep-fry you with my quesadillas next Tuesday.'

'Well—you've just punished me for ridiculing the way you run your detentions. But you still seem to miss the object of my concern, and of course, the cause of my displeasure with . . . well, you, sir.'

Snape couldn't take much more of this, but he was willing to tolerate certain misdemeanors he would not tolerate from anyone else but the child who seemed unafraid to challenge his wit. 'Proceed,' he said, much to the relief of Gryffindors, as he had not taken away any more House points.

Little Amber Boggle bit her lip as she thought a bit into what she was about to say. It was understood that she was plunging deep into a pool that had a very unpredictable depth—it could be much shallower than she had originally perceived it to be, though so far her conclusion seemed to be correct.

'I admit to the misspelling of Acromantula. I missed the "o." I apologise, but it was all due to the rude, biting comments of our supervisor. You have punished me with two more weeks of detention with that same person. How am I to cease all further mistakes from occurring if its root cause is still required in castigation?'

Snape blinked. What did 'castigation' mean again? And where in the world did the quiet Amber Boggle he knew go? But the girl had a point—it was illogical to expect her to complete tasks of chastisement when all concentration would be lost while maintaining focus on Draco Malfoy, an ethereal being whose mannerisms he seemed to take after his Head of House.

As Severus Snape thought this through, every Gryffindor and Slytherin in the room silently gaped in awe at the little Gryffindor whom so reasonably captured their professor's attention without a bout of fear and without too harsh a reply from her partner in dialogue.

Suddenly Snape smiled. 'Miss Boggle,' he said almost too cheerily, 'I have a solution to your problem. It seems only you are having any trouble with detention, and so I propose you and I have separate sessions while the rest of your troupe continues regular sessions with said supervisor?'

Amber shook her head immediately upon hearing such an idea and said to her professor quite honestly, 'Oh, that's not such a grand idea, professor. I don't know if you have noticed, but there's a sort of rivalry between the Weasleys and Malfoys and your idea would not resolve the problem at all whatsoever. In all actuality, I'm afraid it may just worsen the circumstances.'

'Miss Boggle, I am quite aware of the ridiculous feud between the Weasleys and Malfoys and find it just that: ridiculous! In all actuality, I think a bit more time between the offspring, the better! Maybe then they'll get along!' Snape exclaimed, deathly furiously.

Ginny's face was as red as her hair and it was with all her might she did not shout the following: 'Professor, if you think a bit more time between the two of us could ever surface into any sort of truce, you are wrong, sir, WRONG. I know for a fact that hatred is never surpassed and hardly resolved—if time is what you seek, a session of detention is surely the incorrect answer!'

'Enough!' Snape's shout echoed hollowly throughout the extremely tense dungeon. 'Weasley, Boggle, you two will see me after class in the Headmaster's office. I will be escorting you. And as for the rest of you Gryffindors, I congratulate you: I announce a total of fifty points gone from this lesson's little discussion.'

'He started it,' a random voice piped up.

'Correction, seventy-five points lost to Gryffindor. Very well, carry on with the day's assignment. And do remember your essays on the Experimental Uses of Dragon Knuckles are due next Thursday,' Snape said, much too bothered to be argued with. No one even groaned at the mention of their homework.

Snape smiled; that's what you call power, he thought.

Ruscher, Draco wrote upon the WWW Two-Way Parchment. He felt like an idiot, writing on a piece of paper, and expecting it to answer.

Surprisingly, it did: Malfoy. What do you need?

Draco stared down at the parchment asking himself the same question. He wasn't quite sure why he had decided to contact Margaret so early (the day after), but he felt it necessary to make sure the whole 'alliance' thing was real.

Ruscher, I want to know why you wanted me to be your 'ally.'

Why? was all she asked.

It just seems a little ridiculous, that's all.

You think I'm ridiculous?

What? No, that's not what I said. I said that this whole alliance thing seems ridiculous.

Why?

Because, we're . . . we're using a common enemy to—erm, find common ground.

So?

Draco didn't answer for a long time. He had thought it over the night before and thought his spur of the moment action was going to cost him a lot of unnecessary irate. Joining forces with a Hufflepuff against Weasley seemed too dumb to ever comprehend, yet he had done so. And he had done so without a doubt. But what troubled him the most was why a Hufflepuff would make a rival out of one of the so-called 'friendliest' girls in school. And what really bit at his curiousity was that she had even asked him to be her 'ally' against Weasley. That was just pretty unbelievable.

Ruscher, why are you in so much . . . disagreement with the Weasley girl?

Why are you?

. . . We do have quite a history.

Yes, the Weasley Whore and I also go pretty far back.

Really? How far back?

Oh, about a week.

Draco rolled his eyes. Girls could hold such stupid grudges.

What'd she do?

She conjured up a fig forest in McGonagall's class which consequently swallowed my wand. I couldn't find it at all!

You should have used the Summoning Charm.

I did. Anyway, the figs grew so fast that by the time I Summoned it to me, it had brought my wand all the way to the other side of the classroom. "Accio," said I; worst mistake of my life. That wand came flying out of nowhere and hit me squarely in the back of the head!

Draco smirked, imagining the scene play in his mind. But Weasley? Have enough power to conjure up a fig forest? What was the lesson? He asked Ruscher.

Harvesting. We were using figs to practice.

And the incantation?

Draco was highly interested now. Perhaps there was more to Weasley than her surname and red hair after all.

Ficus Forma That really annoying one with the counter-clockwise loop and upward drag of the wand.

Draco nodded, he remembered it only too well. He was the first one to catch on to the wand technique. He also remembered his fig growing uncontrollably to the size of his desk. He had stopped it just in time and had shrunk it before McGonagall had noticed.

Curious, he wrote to her.

What's curious?

That same spell made my fig grow as large as my desk.

Erm. . . . Okay, well, I gotta go. I think we're supposed to be counting stones now. I'm in Ancient Runes, by the way.

I figured.

I'll talk to you later, then.

It seems it will be so.

And the parchment cleared.

'Mr Malfoy,' Flitwick chirped from a tall pile of books at the front of the room.

'Yes, professor?' Draco answered, looking up from his conversation.

'The lesson is over; we are all supposed to be practicing the Chanter Charm with our designated partners.'

Draco looked around. Everyone had paired up. Only he had been left.

Only he had been left with the exception of Neville Longbottom.

Oh bloody hell, he thought. This is going to be interesting.

'Oy, Longbottom, try not to make me sing too prettily, you hear?'

Neville, since the year before, had outgrown his cowardly exterior and had made a name for himself amongst many prestigious endeavours.

'Just as long as you swear you won't charm me into your clone, Malfoy,' he said impatiently.

A/N: That's Chapter Six, for you. A bit on the slow side and uninteresting, but I promise there should be more D/G action soon. This is all just a slow introduction to what's waiting up ahead.

Chocolate for anyone who reviews! Remember; review to tell me what you think. An author always appreciates it when a reader takes the time to do so.

Cheers and tootles!

—blufiresprite