CHAPTER EIGHT

Snape's Savior

"Welcome to Remedial Potions!" Slughorn's booming voice echoed around the nearly empty dungeon. "As you know, you are here either because of a lack of skill or because a profound number of absences has put you behind your peers." He smiled. "I am here to help, but please first rely on the tutors - Mr. Severus Snape, potions extraordinare - and Ms. Lily Evans, the best student I've taught Mr. Tom Riddle himself! They are here to help you as much as possible, and only if they find themselves beyond their skill should I be brought into the situation. Understood? Fabulous!" And he scurried off.

Peter and James set to work. "You know, Lily," James said conversationally, "Snape only asked you out because we told him you liked him. Otherwise, you'd never have known."

A flash of surprise flickered across her face, but quickly died. "Yes, I figured it was something to that extent. He's sweet, James," she said suddenly, shocking James into dumping all of his wolfsbane into the potion. Thankfully, it didn't show any outward signs of being messed up.

"Who's sweet?" James feigned innocence.

"Severus. He's patient. And he hates you, you know. Though I'm sure he's thankful for the chance you gave him - to some level." Lily smiled patiently at James and his potion skills. "Counterclockwise turns, James. Please pay attention."

"What is he thankful for? You can't possibly really like him."

Despite herself, Lily prickled defensively. "Why can't I? Because he doesn't play Quidditch or tussle his hair or behave like a pompous jerk? Did it ever occur to you that that's why I didn't want to be with you?"

"No, it didn't occur to me, or I would have changed my behaviors! And I didn't think you would forget that only a week ago, every other word out of his mouth was mudblood! How could you possibly have feelings for someone who treats you like that?"

"How would you know how he treats me? Are you with us on our dates?" Her anger faltered for a minute, then hardened as she realized something. "Yes, you are," she answered her own question. "And what did you see, James, when you were spying on us?"

"He was being kind to you," James conceded.

"Exactly," Lily agreed, and lapsed into frustrated silence. "Add your lacewing flies," she counseled.

"Did you kiss him?" James asked suddenly.

Her green eyes flashed defiantly. "Yes."

"Did you kiss him or did-"

"I kissed him," Lily cut him off. When James opened his mouth, she said immediately, "No, we didn't go any farther than that. Severus is a gentleman." Once again, silence ruled the dungeon. "Your potion's finished," she said suddenly, and James jumped.

"Really?"

"We only made an Irritation Solution, James," Lily remind him.

"Right." He smiled. "I'm thirsty. Are you guys thirsty over there?" he called to Peter and Snape. Peter nodded enthusiastically. Snape looked to Lily, who smiled, and then gave a curt nod. "Right, then. I'm off to procure refreshment." He left, and no one saw him slip the vial of Irritation Solution in his pocket.

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James was seething, wallowing, pondering. What the hell did she mean when she said Snape was "sweeter" than him? He's a "gentleman"? "Patient"? None of the adjectives fit the Snape he knew.

The kitchens weren't far from the dungeons, and James easily snagged butterbeers and crisps for the small remedial party. He also easily slipped the botched Irritation Solution into Snape's bottle. "Let's see how sweet you are covered in oozing sores," James snickered. Somewhere deep inside him, he felt a twinge of pity for Snape, but quickly repressed it. "It's not going to kill him. Peter didn't die when he got covered in it."

But Peter didn't drink it, the little voice in his head reminded him, sounding suspiciously like Remus. He repressed that, too, though with a touch of concern for his mental sanity.

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"Cheers," James toasted, tipping his bottle in Snape's direction.

Snape eyed it cautiously, found nothing wrong with it, and took a sip. The butterbeer seared his throat going down, more than it should. Somehow, his throat felt constricted, and his stomach was in turmoil, roiling with heat, threatening regurgitation. But the constriction in his esophagus would never allow the bile to rise to his mouth. I'm going to die, Snape thought forlornly, and for the first time in his life the prospect was not inviting. His body stiffened and jerked, and dry retching convulsions shook him. The pain nearly became unbearable, burning white hot, he was on fire, and then he welcomed the softness of unconsciousness, if only to escape the pain.

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"What did you do?" Lily shrieked at James, hammering him with her fists in a blind rage. "What the hell did you do to him?"

James couldn't find the words to describe what had happened. Instead, he fed an instruction to Peter. "Fetch Professor Slughorn." Peter whimpered and scurried off. Lily looked at him expectantly, no longer hitting him. Tears flowed freely from her vibrant grass-green eyes. "I put Irritation Solution in his butterbeer," James admitted.

"Are you aware of how badly you botched that potion?!" she shouted, then scurried to the store cupboard. Rummaging frantically, she found what she was looking for and stuffed it down Snape's throat. Instantly, he coughed and opened his eyes weakly.

"Thank you," he murmured, and then was gone again, though his expression was now restful and contented.

"Good heavens!" Slughorn exclaimed, lifting Snape's innate body with a muttered spell. "Let's get him to the hospital wing, Mr. Pettigrew. Ms. Evans, please help Mr. Potter clean up the dungeon and put the cauldrons away." Then he and Peter rushed (as much as Slughorn could, anyway) down the hall and out of sight.

"Did you do it on purpose?" Lily asked James, quiet steel and distance in her voice. "Did you mean to poison him?"

"No! I wanted him to break out in embarrassing boils, not die!" James shouted, angered by her insistence that the whole thing was on purpose. It wasn't. Only part of it was on purpose. "Even if he had died, it isn't like anyone would care."

Lily looked at him, speechless in her fury. Finding words, she said, "I'd care." And she left huffily.

James was now feeling the familiar mind-numbing despair creep in again. "What did I say?" he called to no one.