Downside of Aging Potions - Chapter Twenty-three
"Catch your breath
Like four leaf clover
Hand it over
Scream to no one
Take your time
Sing it louder,
Twist and shout."
-Switchfoot, Concrete Girl
Harry and Ron sat back in two different arm chairs in the Gryffindor Common Room, illuminated only by fire light, and waited.
And Harry, needless to say, was furious.
'Sloan' had promised answers nearly twenty-four hours ago and still he waited. Who the hell was this Sloan anyway?
All he did know, was that he awfully, awfully, familiar.
With a frustrated sigh, he stood up and said to Ron, "I'm going to bed. You should too, we have a Charms quiz tomorrow."
"Fuck Charms, Hermione should've been back by now." Ron said, his jaw set.
"'Night then."
"'Night..."
Harry tossed.
"Hey Snivelly..."
"You might want to wash your
"One day, Potter..."
Harry sprang up in his bed, clicking instantly.
He should have known.
"You fucking idiot..." He murmured to himself, slipping on his jeans, and zipping them up quickly.
He pulled on a sweatshirt, and rushed right past the other sleeping boys, excluding Ron. He must have fallen asleep out in the Common Room.
Yes, he passed a snoring Ron on the couch in an awkward angle.
However, he wasn't thinking about Ron. His destination was Dumbledore. For he was the only other one who must know. Who else knew Snape as a teenager?
Sloan was Snape.
When he pulled away, Hermione felt silly for letting a tear fall down her cheek. She brushed at it angrily and bit her cheek hard to keep the rest of them in.
"What is it?" He asked softly, the velvet baritone of his voice caressing her like nothing else ever would. Except, perhaps, his hands.
She pushed the thought away for now, and shook her head, "I really don't know... just a stupid girl being emotional, you know?"
His knuckles brushed her cheek and he sighed, "We should probably go... work on the potion?"
"Yeah..." She agreed noncommittally, and followed him to his temporary room.
"Let's try this." Snape said, adding Aging potion to the brew.
Hermione shrugged, "Sure."
He poured some in, mixing it a few times, then he poured some into a bottle.
She wrote a label for the bottle, matching a number with the list of ingredients. They had 10 bottles so far. Needless to say, they made only little progress.
Hermione yawned, "Severus what time is it?"
He summoned a watch where he usually kept in his desk (kept it there to secretly monitor class time, most importantly, the end of it,) "Quarter to two."
She rested her head on her arm and groaned, "I don't think I've slept in three days."
Just as she finished her sentence, the door burst open.
Snape's head snapped around and he groaned at the sight.
Dumbledore was in the doorway, sporting a very purple nightgown, and Harry, glaring and angry was leading the way.
"I can't believe you!"