Title:
Twenty-one days

Prequel to:
A few days more

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 25th 2009

Timeframe:
Fourth year at Hogwarts

Summary:
AU / Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle enfolds its own magic. Can some students survive for the next twenty-one days?

Disclaimer:
Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?
Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?
Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

Rating:
M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

Author's Notes:
Uhm … alright … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the – perhaps – sad language, nor for the subject of my writing …
Also, this is a story written for NaNo, a story written within thirty days only and even though I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories of mine you are used to by now … thank you …

Warning:
Story contains bad language and swearing.
Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.
Story contains references to child neglect.
Child neglect is a really, really serious thing, and there are a lot of children in our world that are neglected, children that lack food, clothing, often love, and perhaps even a roof over their head – and closing our eyes, and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …
Story contains references to child abuse.
Child abuse is one of the most evil things, and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help but have to live without hope – and again, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … instead show sympathy, and understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once having been abused … with understanding and with help …
What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Previously in twenty-one days

Slowly he got off the chair behind his desk and slowly he went over to the mattresses where Harry finally slept, having fallen asleep just moments after they had been back, allowing him, Severus, the freedom of writing down his daily notes to the headmaster, and then he lay down behind his son, again wrapping his arms around the fragile and bony body, gently, without waking him, but sleep refused to come for a long time, until he finally fell into a restless dream-like state.

Chapter twenty-five
Day nineteen - Friday, twentieth of September
Nightmares and Slughorn

Harry knew it was dark, even before he opened his eyes. And he also was cold and hungry, and his stomach was balled up in cramps. But – why was he back in his cupboard at the Dursleys, he wondered, even if part of his mind knew that that couldn't be right. Severus, his Severus, his father, had promised him that he never had to be back there again. And his Severus, his father, never broke his promises, he knew that. Severus Snape was a harsh man, but he was an honest man, he knew that. But part of him still doubted it, and before he could think further of Severus, the Dursleys and his cupboard, he sank back into darkness again.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The teenager he still held in his arms stirred and for a moment he took a deep breath, wondering how it was that he felt so … alright … upon waking with a teenager in his arms for days now before he opened his eyes to actually look over at said teenager. Shouldn't he feel disgusted? Shouldn't he feel … wrong? Somehow? It wasn't normal to have a barely fourteen year old teenager in his arms, not for a man that had adopted said barely fourteen year old teenager just days ago.

But then – it wasn't normal to be locked in a dungeon without food and with fourteen children for nearly nineteen days either. So what? He had never been a man that had listened to the gossip of others. He had never been a man that cared about what others said, or how they looked upon him, how they judged him.

Harry was just a fourteen year old teenager, yes, and he had adopted the boy just days ago, yes, but Harry also was a child that had been abused, that had been starved, and that had been unloved, starved not only of food, but of love as well. And Harry was a child that was about to die. So – no, he did not care. So – yes, if he could comfort that child by holding him in his sleep, then he would do so.

"Good morning, Harry." He quietly said, running the fingertips of his left hand over the boy's forehead.

A moment later, however he frowned when the child backed away from him, his arms weakly going up over his face.

"Please, uncle Vernon." The boy murmured in his sleep, curling away from him. "I'm sorry … didn' do anything … 'm sorry."

He knew what those words meant, but he wasn't sure if the boy was awake or not, if he were still dreaming, or if it was more than that. He knew that hallucinations would start at one point or another, but he wasn't sure if it really was one or if it was a simple nightmare. Gently he just pulled the teenager back into his arms and held him close to his chest.

"It is alright, Harry." He whispered while he ran his hand up and down the bony spine. "It is alright. You are safe. Your uncle cannot harm you here."

"No." The boy shook his head against his chest. "Please … I promise … won' do it 'gain …"

"Hush child." Severus continued to run his hand over the child's back, wondering why the boy didn't back away again as he still seemed to talk to his uncle. Narrowing his eyes, he forced himself to think clearly, something that had become difficult over the past days. "You have done nothing wrong, child." He said. The slurred speech indicated that the boy wasn't fully awake yet, so – most likely it was just a half-dreaming state he was in, instead of really hallucinating. "Everything is just fine, Harry, you are safe. You are not with your uncle, and he cannot harm you here."

"Not … but …" The boy stammered, starting to wriggle free and he loosened his grip on the bony form. "What … dad!"

He could nearly hear the relief in the boy's voice, and he sighed with relief himself. It had been a simple nightmare the boy had woken from, and he seemed to be fully awake now. He wasn't hallucinating yet.

"Are you awake now?" He couldn't help asking, even if he knew how stupid that particular question was.

"Not fully." The boy murmured, trying to sit up. "I'm still booting."

Snorting at the child's rotten sense of humor he gripped one of the thin upper arms to help the boy in his attempt of sitting up, but as soon as he was sitting, he groaned and fell back onto the mattress, his eyes closed.

"Well, you seem to have some trouble with your booting process, as it seems." He smirked at the flabbergast look Harry gave him when he opened his eyes startled at his words. Did his son think that he wouldn't know what computers were? Still smirking he lifted his eyebrow at the boy.

"Stay down until I got the bowl with the warm water from the fire." He growled and got up. Some of the other students already were up and sitting at their table, playing, or reading, while others were still asleep, and while he pulled one of the bowls with water he had started placing on an alcove in the fireplace, so Harry, had warm water to wash himself in the mornings, Dean Thomas entered the classroom, clearly coming from the shower as his hair was dripping wet, and he scowled at the boy.

"Why is your hair dripping, Dean?" He asked the boy upon his entrance. "I do know that the towel is not the driest after several students have used it already, but your hair is too wet – as are your clothes. Did you use the towel at all?"

"Uhm … no, sir." The boy said, looking anywhere but him.

"And why not, Dean?" He asked, placing his fingertips beneath the child's chin to lift his head. "I have told you how imperative it is to dry yourself after a shower. It is too cold down here to risk anything and the small fire we have running is definitely not enough to heat up the room entirely. It merely provides a basis – warmth – that will ensure the dungeon won't cooling down completely."

"I know." The boy answered. "But … well … it's been used so much meanwhile and it's dirty and wet and … it's just ugly!"

Gritting his teeth Severus took a deep breath. He could understand the boy's reluctance to use the towel in the first place. But they had only two and he did his best to keep them as clean as possible, washing one while the other one was in use. But as they didn't have any soap left, he could only wash it with warm water and then hang it over the mantelpiece to dry it. And he knew that from the hygienic point of view – it simply wasn't enough.

But there were a lot of things that were not enough from a hygienic point of view – such as them being unable to change their clothes for nineteen days now, such as them being unable to really brush their teeth, or such as their bedclothes not being changed for days, such as them not being able to use soap anymore while showering or washing.

"I know that." He finally said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But we have no more than those two towels, and we are eighteen people down here. It is cold down here and it won't get warmer, I can promise you that, so you will have to simply deal with it, Dean. I can understand your aversion to our situation that lacks of hygiene at every corner in the first place, but you will have no other choice than dealing with it if you wish to survive. This is not a game, Dean, this … is serious business and if I find you dripping wet just once more, then be assured you will write until your fingers fall off. I do need some fingers in one of my potions. And now sit down by the fire so you may get dry without catching a lung infection, you idiot child!"

Finally, taking the bowl of warm water from the ledge in the fireplace he went towards his office and placed it onto his desk before going back to the mattresses to get Harry.

"Are you awake now?" He drawled while kneeling down beside the boy and running one hand over the boy's so startling pale face.

"Nearly." The child answered, smirking at him as if he wanted to challenge him. "The operating system isn't up yet."

"Then change your Windows for Linux!" He growled. "Are you ready to get up yet?" He then asked, getting serious, his dark eyes watching the child intently.

"Yes, sir." The boy answered, just as seriously. Well, they were beyond the point where they didn't know each other, all of them. They knew exactly when he meant it and they acted accordingly. That was it, what he had meant a few days ago, when he had told Ronald Weasley that he was pleased with them. They not only recognized when he was serious, but they also acted accordingly, they obeyed his orders, and they used their brains. None of them acted like the disobedient and insufferable adolescents they actually were and so – yes, he was indeed very proud of them.

"Then up with you." He said, getting to his feet as well but staying close, his dark eyes trained on the boy's struggling movement, and a moment later he pulled the boy up on his upper arm.

"Sorry." Harry said and he scowled at the boy.

"Do not apologize for things you have no control over, Harry." He said seriously, leading the boy off the mattresses and through the classroom towards his office.

It was slow going, the boy's movements slow and sluggish, unsure, and weak, but he didn't mind. The boy still moved at all, still walked at all, and that was more than he could ask for after nearly three months of starvation if he thought of the child's summer holidays with his relatives that hadn't provided him with enough food to keep a bird alive.

How could those monsters keep food from the child for so long and so horribly? Had the boy not asked them for food at one point or another? Had the boy not told them that he was hungry? How could those people ignore a child's question for food? How could those people ignore a child's stomach rumbling and cramping?

But well – no.

Most likely the child had not asked for food, most likely the child had not dared to ask for food, maybe the child had not even thought that he would deserve food while being with them.

But how could they …

Considering the startled look, the child that had occupied his thoughts just now, the child he was leading towards his office right now, most likely had not even realized that his knees had buckled out beneath him, but the Potions Master had anticipated such, and his movements were quick enough so that in a second he had caught the boy and a moment later he was hoisting him up into his arms.

He was weak himself meanwhile, and he knew it. He wasn't stupid enough to think that after more than two weeks without food he would be as strong as he had always been, but the little effort it took him to lift the boy up into his arms and to carry him towards his office. It was startling. The child weighted none to nothing! How could this child still be alive? A small child surely weighted more than this child here right now did!

And again, the teen apologized while he seated him onto a chair in front of his desk!

"I already told you to not apologize for things you have no control over!" He growled darkly while he placed the cloth he had given the boy the day before into the bowl. "And now get undressed and yourself washed, Mr. Snape." He said.

"But you shouldn't be bothered with my weakness!" The child had the audacity to answer while opening the buttons of his shirt. "The others …"

"The others are different children with different needs and weaknesses." He said, leaning his hands atop the desk and close to the boy. "And now I suggest that you get washed before that water is entirely cold. I will not re-heat it!"

"Shouldn't have done so in the first place." The boy murmured while at least finally starting to wash his face. "You shouldn' worry so much 'bout me in the first place and you shouldn' care so much either. It's not worth the …"

"I would not finish this sentence if I were you, young man!" He couldn't keep himself from hissing at the boy that at least had the audacity to flinch.

"But it's true!" The blasted brat said. "You should care 'bout yourself! And …"

"I am sorry, Mr. Snape, but I cannot do that." He quietly said, leaning back and sadly looking at the boy in front of him. "Because you see, it is my son that I watch dying a little more every day and right in front of my eyes." How less did this child think of himself? How low was his own value to him? Did he not see how much he, Severus, cared? "Do you not see how much it pains me seeing you like this?" He then asked and suddenly the child dropped his arms onto his desk and buried his face in his arms.

"I'm sorry." The boy said into his arms, sobbed into his arms. "I didn't mean to."

Severus was around the desk within a moment and gently placed his hand at the scarred shoulder blade that stuck out in an awkward angle.

"I know you didn't." He said, ignoring the flinch at the touch. "And neither is it your fault. But the fact remains that it does pain me seeing you like this. You do not know how much I have come to care for you, child. Go and washing this skinny body of yours or I will scrub you with the scrubbing brush!"

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Upon coming back to the classroom Harry had already been exhausted again, and Severus had put the worn out child down for a nap, even if it had been just ten in the morning, and now he was sitting beside his son's mattress, just drinking in the sight of the boy sleeping while once more, he wondered why in Merlin's name he had made that choice in the beginning, adopting this particular child. Not that he regretted his choice, definitely not, but he wondered why, what had caused that decision?

But then, now that he thought about it, he wasn't so sure anymore if he'd really ever had that choice. Because there was just too much pain in those unsure green eyes, too much that tore at him, those green eyes that had been screaming at him 'care for me, anyone' that had been screaming at him 'care for me, for once'. And if he had to be honest with himself, then he had to admit that those green eyes had screamed those particular words from the very first beginning, from the moment he had seated himself opposite the boy in his very first potions class, after he had asked him all those questions no first year – aside from Hermione of course – could have been able to answer.

If he had to be honest with himself, then he also had to admit that he had not approached the boy and seated himself opposite the boy because of the insolent answer he had given him upon his own bait, but because he had wanted to have a closer look at the child. Because if he was honest with himself, then he had to admit that he had been startled the moment he had laid eyes on James Potter's son during the sorting feast just the day before.

James Potter had never been a small boy, on the contrary. He had been one of the larger boys in his year. Lily had not been small either, she had been average, but where Lily had been slender and well built, Potter had been slender but muscular. And so, he had been startled to lay eyes on a small, scrawny, skinny scarecrow that had sticks instead of arms. And yes, he had been able to see those sticks beneath the child's robes that hang on him limply.

The boy had looked like a seven or eight year old, not like an eleven year old child that attended first year at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry and he had approached the boy and had seated himself opposite him to have a closer look on that child, just to make sure that it really was James Potter's son he had in front of him.

The truth however was – back then even, he had not seen James Potter's son, but Lily Evan's. He had not seen the arrogant and coldly smirking black haired boy that was spoiled and used to being worshiped, but a child that had looked at him with unsure and nearly frightened green eyes behind broken spectacles. And yet – he had refused to acknowledge the cry for help in those green eyes. He had seen it, but he had refused to acknowledge it, this deep wish for someone, anyone, who cared about him for once.

And the knowledge of his own failure of the child tore at him, made him bleed and made him worry and care just the more for the boy now.

Severus Snape was not a man who worried himself needlessly. If there was something that bothered him, then he would look for a solution – and there was always one – and act accordingly to solve the problem, before searching out the culprit – and there was always one just as well – and let that person or thing pay for the reason of his bothering. Something that was not possible right now and down here in the dungeons, however.

And yet – he swore to himself, the moment he would be out of here, never mind the outcome, namely if Harry survived or not, he would pay a visit to Vernon and Petunia Dursley at number four Privet Drive in Surrey, and the only question was – would they survive or not, and what he would do then – this question would depend on – would Harry survive or not.

Gently he ran his fingers over his son's face, trying to comfort the sleeping child and with some satisfaction he noticed that the worried lines in the small and bony pale face eased upon his touch.

Well, neither had he ever been a man who liked the company of others, and especially not close company, and surely not the company of children, but at one point or another during the last two weeks, he had grown used to that boy's close company, had grown used to touch that boy and being touched by him.

He had grown used to the unexpected smiles the child threw at him sometimes, the still so haunted and unsure look in those green eyes which he longed to erase, and he had gotten used to the soft whimpers of fear during the night that the child couldn't silence and which he wanted nothing else than taking away.

He had gotten used to the lost look, and not only in the child's eyes but the child himself looking so lost, so hurt and so needy of comfort, that he wanted nothing more than providing this child with the comfort he so much longed for. And he had even gotten used to the child looking so frightened and scared as if he wanted nothing else than running away and never having to think of all the horrors he had been through again, that caused him to wish he could make it all undone.

But he knew that it wasn't possible. He could not undo the past. He could only hope that they would survive these dungeons, and that he then could start anew with the child, his son, and make it all better.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

For a moment he had felt peace in the darkness that threatened to swallow him, in the coldness that threatened to never release him, in the pain and fear that threatened to throw him into an abyss he knew would be too deep for him to climb up from again. He just wouldn't have the strength to climb up from the abyss he was falling into, and he knew that only his cupboard and his uncle waited for him at the ground.

For a moment he had felt peace and safety and the care of someone who was there for him, but then it had been gone the moment the touch from his forehead had been gone and he knew that he was back at the Dursleys. He still didn't understand why his dad had brought him back here, but he couldn't change it, never mind if he knew the reason or not. And if he had ever learned anything with the Dursleys, then it was to not question anything that he couldn't change anyway. It only took energy to question things, energy he would need to survive. And maybe, if he was strong enough, then maybe his dad would come back to get him? Maybe, if he was a good boy? And if he did all his chores and never complained about being hungry and about the beatings? Then maybe his dad would come back? And would get him back to Hogwarts and into the dungeons classroom?

Opening his eyes weakly he could see his uncle advancing and despite his intentions to be a good boy and just take everything without complaining, he couldn't help cringing at the thought of what would come.

"I'll be good, uncle Vernon." He couldn't help whimpering with fear. "Please, I'll do anything. I'll be good, I promise."

His uncle advanced on him anyway, and he grabbed him by his arms anyway to pull him out of his cupboard.

If only his father would be there to get him away. But if he would be a good boy and take it all without complaining, then surely he would come and get him back to his classroom.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Severus sighed with relief the moment Harry finally opened his eyes and looked at him startled, and this time he couldn't even bring himself to reprimand him for apologizing yet again for having those blasted nightmares, but he had no energy left for doing so.

He had given Harry and Theodore the last vials of dreamless sleep potion three days ago, but Theodore fared far better than Harry did. While Theodore had nightmares only during the nights and was awakened easily, Harry had them whenever he closed his eyes, and it always took him some time until he got the boy awake and aware, telling him that it had been a nightmare only, that it wasn't real, that he was safe. And this time it had taken him nearly half an hour until the boy had finally stopped begging his uncle to stop beating him for 'stealing food from the trash bin under the sink'.

The horrified looks on the other children's faces had told him enough of how scared they had been too, about the horror they had felt at Harry's mumbled words and at the boy's trashing in his arms until he had finally managed to wake him fully and get him aware completely, but he didn't have the time to tend to their needs right now and to calm them, or reassure them.

"You will stay in this position, Harry." He strictly said the moment the boy tried to sit up. "And you will stay in this position for at least a few minutes."

"Need the loo." The boy mumbled and he sighed.

"Alright." He said, pulling the boy into a sitting position. "Stay like this for at least another minute, then I will help you getting up."

He didn't quite like the weak nod the boy gave him, but at least the boy was awake now. And right now, after those horrible nightmares, that was all that counted, because for a moment he really had thought he wouldn't be able to wake the child ever again. He had even shaken him, had shouted at him at one point. He had felt horrible for doing so, because he had known that it had worsened the boy's nightmare. Harry had then started screaming himself, and for a few moments he had thought the boy would break his neck with his attempts to struggle out of his arms.

In the end he had lain there, softly crying in his sleep, and only then had he been able to slowly get him out of his nightmare, and then finally awake.

Turning the boy on his shoulder until he sat with his back to him he reached under his armpits and gently pulled him into a standing position, ignoring said boy's protests while he led him out of the classroom, his left arm still beneath his armpit, wrapped around the boy's chest to support him and the other hand gripping his right upper arm to steady him.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"I really wonder how people can be so stupid." Draco said, throwing himself onto the mattress beside Harry.

It had been the same as it had been last night, Severus had led Harry into the bathroom, and he had only left the moment Harry had had a secure grip on the sink. He would have liked to stay, just to ensure that the boy would not fall, but he had also known that Harry would not like it and upon considering which decision would cause more damage he had left the bathroom, sure that the emotional trauma upon forcing the boy to use the loo in his presence would be worse than the physical damage if he fell.

At least he had hoped so.

But he could have stayed anyway, as a few moments later he had heard the boy hitting the floor and giving away a small cry. He had quickly entered and upon making sure that Harry had not hit his head or broken anything he had wordlessly redressed the scared and uncomfortably fidgeting, nearly crying teenager. Without another word he had lifted the weak body into his arms and had carried him back to the mattresses where Harry had curled into a small ball, clearly frustrated with himself – and ashamed.

And he, Severus, had simply not known how to reassure the child that he neither had a reason to feel frustrated, nor to feel ashamed.

"What happened?" Neville asked while Harry refused to do more than looking over at the blond boy.

"Those idiots from the wireless happened!" Draco growled and finally Harry turned and seemed to forget his own misery.

"Why?" Neville asked. "What did they say this time?"

"They're planning to make a story out of this!" Draco hissed angrily.

"They are … what?" Severus growled darkly.

"They're planning to make a story out of this!" Draco repeated. "They say that they are looking for someone who writes the story about 'The Tragedy of Hogwarts' and then Liberus Lector would read it on the wireless. A chapter each day, they said."

"You are right, the stupidity of some people really have grown to become unlimited!"

"That's not entirely correct." Harry softly said and Severus looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

"How is that so?" He then asked, glad that the child had at least forgotten his own misery for a moment and was partaking in the conversation.

"The sum of the intelligence on a planet is a constant." The boy answered and he could nearly see a smirk the blasted brat tried to suppress. Nearly – the boy definitely was good at keeping a straight face. "Just the population expands." The brat finished and he shook his head at the statement.

Well, at least the child was back to partaking in their conversations and he was relieved, knowing that – at least for now – the child was alright.

"Wanna come over to the table for a game of jumping pawns?" Gregory asked and the Potions Master scowled. He didn't want Harry up from the mattresses, the boy was simply becoming too weak. But then – the boy also needed to prove himself and to play around with his friends. So – well, he could allow him a bit, he could carry him to the table and set him down there with a blanket for a while. But Harry was quicker than he was, as it seemed, tiredly shaking his head.

"Don' feel so well." The boy mumbled and his concern reached new heights. If Harry admitted that he didn't feel well, then he really must feel miserable, because normally he would never admit anything that could be taken as the slightest bit of weakness. That boy's thirst to prove himself was nearly without limits, and so he didn't wonder that he had nearly been sorted into his house. If only the child had allowed the blasted hat to place him in his house, or if only that blasted hat had kept true to his decision despite the boy's wish to not being sorted into Slytherin. Harry would have found true friends there as well. And he would have his, Severus', help from the beginning on.

He had always had his Slytherins checked up by Poppy on the very first day they arrived at Hogwarts because he knew that they never came to him on their own, and so he would have known about the abuse immediately – and he would have reacted back then.

And right now, it might have saved the boy's life even, because he wouldn't have been back with his relatives this summer and he wouldn't have been starved and beaten by them during this summer, he would have been a healthy teenager to begin with, just like most of the others and he would have better chances of surviving this until they were freed.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

It was Thursday, and they had potions.

But honestly, none of them paid any attention. Potions was not potions since Snape wasn't there anymore to teach that particular subject and Slughorn simply was not Snape. Yes, potions had become less stressful with Slughorn, and yes, less acerbic remarks were made during potions now, too. Even their grades had become better now. But if they were honest, then they knew that somehow they didn't deserve the now rather good grades.

Snape had been unfair when handling his Slytherins compared to other houses, yes, but he had never given unfair grades. And the marks they had gotten from Snape had always been those they had deserved.

Just during their last potions class Fred had gotten an outstanding when he knew that he had not even done an exceed expectations. It had been a rather poor acceptable, actually, and he knew it. He would have gotten an acceptable from Snape for his draught of peace but definitely not an outstanding and surely not even an exceed expectations.

But Slughorn had given him an outstanding.

As he did with every student which parents had either been fighting in the order once or were famous – or had money. It was disgusting. The entire man was disgusting with his display of favoritism towards fame and prominence – or good looks and money. And even the Slytherins thought so. He had overheard some of them complaining about Slughorn. They wanted Snape back.

As did he – and Fred.

Well, the saying applied – you just know what you had the moment you have lost it.

And Snape really hadn't been so bad. If he thought about some comments Snape had made during potions, well, the man used to have at least a sense of humor, even if a rotten one, but he had been funny at times. And concerning Snape's cold black eyes, he had seen amusement hidden in them from time to time just as well as concern. So – no, Snape had really not been so bad.

And at least his marks had always been fair. He had never felt as if he had cheated like he did right now.

Not to mention that, since Slughorn was here, more than twice as many students had had to visit the infirmary already due to potions accidents. Snape had just been the better teacher, even if he had been harsh and what had this guy said? 'Be hard upon'! Yep, that was the correct description - harsh, strict, and hard upon them. But he also had always been there and they had always been able to ask him questions about potions – or even other things as long as they asked respectfully and didn't mess around with him.

Frowning he took the notebook from his third year out of his trunk and turned the pages, read over the notes they had made over that year. They had not only taken the notes from classes, but they had scribbled down each and every piece of information about potions in the notebook – much to Snape's annoyance, he remembered.

Snape – contraire to other teachers at Hogwarts – had collected their notebooks from time to time, just to look them through – whatever reason for he had done so – well, most likely to make sure they really took notes and kept their notebooks orderly, and as theirs held information that were not related to the classes directly, as well as the notes they took in classes, Snape had always had to look for those parts that had been not random notes. On the other hand, Snape always had commented on their random notes just as well as on their regular notes they had taken during the class, and that way they had learned a lot more.

'This won't work, Mr. Weasley, as the aconite would not react with the asphodel.' He read and he had to grin at the spidery comment Snape had made to one of their theories.

'No, but with the erumpent horn.' He had written beneath Snape's comment, and he snickered at the memory of a Potions Professor that had handed him back his notebook after he had collected it the next time. Snape had looked at him for more than just a few seconds and his dark eyes had been hard and unforgiving, clearly stating: 'don't you dare, or you won't survive it'.

Well, he was sure that Snape would have said it differently, in more and greater words, but the meaning was the same nevertheless and he had opened his notebook, skimmed it through to find Snape's answer to the note he had written beneath the Potions Master's comment a few weeks ago.

'Dare to get caught by me brewing an exploding fluid while being at Hogwarts and you will serve detention for the rest of this school year, loosing body parts one by one each detention for being used as potions ingredients. I am in need of a few fingers right now, just to begin with.'

Yes, that had been Snape, sarcastic, a bastard sometimes, dark, harsh, and tough – but really funny with his remarks, and helpful, too.

"You think we could get some aconite and erumpent horn from Slughorn's stocks?" He asked and George looked over at him with a frown on his face.

"Whatever for?" He then asked. "The exploding fluid never worked."

"Nope, it didn't." He admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "But who said I'd like to make a regular exploding fluid?"

"Alright, dear brother, then what is it you wish to create in your unlimited wisdom?"

"In my unlimited wisdom, I wish to make a special exploding fluid."

"What kind of special exploding fluid do you wish to make, oh Master of the Pranks?"

"One that will toss all the Slytherins out of their beds, you ignoramus."

"Oh, you Master of the Pranks, and how do you think you will manage this in your unlimited wisdom?"

"With the help of a teacher, for once."

"With the – alright, dear brother, now I start to doubt your unlimited wisdom! Because never – absolutely never – get a teacher in on one of your pranks.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in "twenty-one days"
the end is near

Added author's note
thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you
also, like on ff, I'll install the house cup – with each review, please state your house, so that your house can get a point. There won't be loss of points, only gains … may the best house with the most reviews win …

House Cup:
At the present time it looks like this:

Slytherin 84
Gryffindor 42
Ravenclaw 27
Hufflepuff 14
Hogwarts 21
Durmstrang 03
Tennessee Institute of Magic & Technomancy 01