Severus was silent as Longbottom stumbled his way through – whatever this was. His grip had tightened on his cane throughout the duration to the point that his hand ached, though he gave no indication of his discomfort even once the young man had reached his halting conclusion. He had endured – a few of these particular reunions now, and he doubted they would ever become any more pleasant than this.
Lacking the both the need and the energy for vitriol, Severus simply shifted slightly to ease the pressure on his leg and responded flatly, “You owe me nothing, Longbottom. Regardless of what Mister Potter has chosen to divulge in the effort of clearing my name, I was nothing more than your teacher, and a most reluctant one at that. You will never be a Potioneer, and I am glad to be rid of you and the entire farce of teaching in general. So in the end, it works out well enough for the both of us, I should say.”
Harry stared for a split second before reaching a hand out to forestall his friend from doing exactly that. “Or – or,” He cautioned, “You could come up with something beforehand so you don’t get yourself caught up in a mess.”
He knew this was a sensitive subject for Neville – and he had every right to be upset considering the sheer amount of work he put in to maintaining the greenhouses. The fact that they were presently being corralled off like this was strange, but the Ministry – even with their friends now playing active roles in bettering it – was still a complicated system that considered itself better than the citizens it served. Whatever they were up to, they’d respond better if Neville was able to approach this calmly – or at the very least, they’d have less opportunity to lie through their teeth.
He lowered his arm, then – after a moment of consideration, “I can go with you, if you like.”
“Why – we’re not going to turn into anything are we?” Harry inquired quickly, quite certain he was not prepared to be a grindylow – or whatever else he might be made to turn into. He supposed if he had a choice though – “Maybe – I dunno, a phoenix?” As soon as he said it, Harry wrinkled his nose – it seemed a little gaudy. “No, maybe not – something small, I guess, that could fly — “
Something was nagging at him now. He’d read about something just like that – of course! That book about Quidditch! He snapped his fingers, then, “A golden snidget,” He declared, decisive now. “That’s what I’d be, if I had to choose.”
It was not uncommon to overhear strange laments during O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. season, and to say this year was more taxing than any before it was arguably putting things lightly. Coming around the corner to find the young Gryffindor sprawled out upon the corridor floor, he found he didn’t even feel the need to ask.
“Longbottom,” You are the last person to whom I ever anticipated identifying so strongly, He mused almost nonsensically, “Unless it is your intention to grant our High Inquisitor yet more ideas on how to make our collective lives miserable, I suggest you get to your feet quickly and accompany me to your dorm, seeing as you are ten minutes away from being out past curfew.”
Five years. Five years he had been playing under Dumbledore’s rules, leaving behind an absolutely flawless career in favor of teaching hoards of teenagers how not to die in potions class. A thankless and utterly dull job more often than not, leaving him far more stressed than he was paid to be and often times at a loss for words with the sheer amount of blatant stupidity that ran rampant throughout the staff as certain events came to pass. All in all it was an eventful task, to keep his oath to Lily and protect her trouble magnet of a child, but he didn’t much mind it.
Until now, of course. Dolores had been utterly intolerable when he’d had to deal with her while running DoIS; now, she was taking as many opportunities to gloat as humanly possible and it was all he could do to keep from hexing her six ways to Sunday and somehow pinning it on a student. Just so nobody would end up in Azkaban for it, mainly.
Thankfully, Hogwarts had taken up arms at last, and student creativity was at an all time high. Severus’ personal favorite was the portable swamp disasters throughout the school, or at least they had been up unto this moment as he stared almost without comprehension at the sheer amount of blood glazing over the palms of his hands. He’d tripped while making his way through one of them, and though he was glad nobody had witnessed it – he was now deeply alarmed, because he hadn’t hurt himself enough for this amount of blood to make any logical sense.
Finally, Severus drew himself out of his stupor and began looking around, until he noticed a dark lump that looked suspiciously like a body. A pool of red drained from the form toward him and a glance down confirmed that his hands had indeed made a dent in the muck and the gore, which had him shoving to his feet and racing over with urgency to examine the situation.
Longbottom, he recognized the pale features of the unconscious boy immediately, and knelt to check his vitals. Relief flooded through him as he felt the young man’s heartbeat, strong and steady underneath clammy skin. From the looks of it, the boy had either taken a dramatic spill, or someone had hexed him and run for it when it went badly.
Shifting him carefully, Severus found the source of the bleeding and tutted, withdrawing his wand and murmuring “Vulnera Sanentur,” Managing the damage and cleansing the worst of the wound, before repeating the spell in order to seal it. That managed, he gently settled Nevelle back down and carefully revived him.
“Stop!” Severus drew his wand and quickly summoned the porcupine quills right out of the student’s hand. What was his name again? Longbottom, wasn’t it? Frank’s son?
“The fuck have I been teaching you the past six years?” He asked, sounding more alarmed than angry and clearly forgetting professors weren’t supposed to swear. Frankly not giving a damn toward professionalism as he went over and tapped the boy’s book with a finger, Severus forced his heart to stop hammering as he managed a little more calmly, “Shaved, not whole – if you set those in you’d have blown up your cauldron and been lucky to spend a week in the hospital wing,” He explained gruffly, “Honestly – did I not cover the importance of directions or do you just like to experiment?” A Gryffindor might be just that stupid, but he also didn’t know enough about his future self to be aware of whether or not he’d even covered the importance or just assumed people to have a good enough sense of judgement to read.
Neville nods, clearly the man understands now. They’re dangerous creatures that maybe not even Hagrid can deal with! Bunnies look cute at first, but it’s all so they can lure them into trusting them. And then they will attack and eradicate humanity. Dean told him all about it earlier and Neville has promised himself to not forget a single detail. It could mean the difference between life and death.
In fact, he continues nodding until Professor Snape seems to change the subject, then he shakes his head once before trailing off into a confused stance.
“Drinking?” That doesn’t make any sense, how they’d go from bunnies to– oooh, his expression clears into understanding. “Don’t worry, Professor! I have been staying hydrated! I have a cup of water at every meal and milk at breakfast. I’ll be able to outrun the bunnies if they find me! Or,” he corrects himself with a decisive nod, “at least as far as to get help before they get me.”
Merlin preserve him, the boy was far gone indeed. Severus eyed the boy thoughtfully a moment, before ultimately deciding he didn’t want to deal with Minerva tonight. Playing into the teenager’s delusion, he remarked mildly, “I may have exactly the potion you need, Longbottom. We’ll ensure you survive – come along now.”
Turning on his heel with the expectation of being followed, Severus lead the way to his office, where he promptly withdrew a draft for aiding with hangovers. It did wonders on an already drunken mind. Wordlessly, he held it out to the boy with an air of distinct gravity. It would be very interesting to see how Longbottom fared with his senses returned, in all truth.
“Bunnies!” He insists, wide-eyed and just a little bit anxious. “Dean told me! Bunnies with fangs!”
In all honesty, it’s entirely possible he’s had a bit too much butterbeer during the party in the Gryffindor common room, and it’s also possible that he’d been accidentally given something that had been for the older students. Just as much as it’s possible that he might have wandered out of the common room to search for a bathroom without even thinking about using one in the tower they’re housed in.
It’s a lot possible, even. He just isn’t thinking about anything but the horrifying bunnies right now.
“Bunnies,” Severus enunciated the word with careful precision, as if in the hopes of making the boy see precisely how ridiculous this statement was by merely repeating it to him, “With,” And here he paused, arching his brow skyward to further punctuate the inanity of what he had just heard, “fangs.”
It was a moment later that Severus caught the rather telltale scent of butterbeer, and his patience took a dip to the left. “Longbottom,” His tone was only a hint acerbic, “Have you been drinking?” That would certainly explain the absurdity, though far be it from him to punish a lion for this one.
He would much rather wake Minerva and let the lion tamer herself put the righteous fear into the boy and his cohorts – as there was bound to be more than one student involved in this.
“Oh– hi Professor,” no more a suffering tone, but a sheepish one, as he avoids looking him in the eye. He’s going to lie and wouldn’t want to get caught doing it. “Um, thank you Professor, it was just an accident. I’m not good with spells and all…”
When his feet land on the floor, he shifts a bit, considering if he should just run for it or not. The Professor might end up dismissing it that way, but he’d probably also look really guilty of something. He’s not, but that doesn’t mean it’ll stop him from being suspicious.
“You expect me to believe you have such limited control of your magic that you did this to yourself?” There was loyalty and then there was throwing yourself under the dragon! Good grief, Gryffindors were an odd breed.
Unless, of course, the punishment for telling was more frightful than swallowing one’s pride entirely.
Severus narrowed his eyes slightly, eyeing the Longbottom boy keenly before remarking mildly, “Perhaps we should work on that, mm? There’s a few handy spells that can keep these kinds of accidents from happening in the future that I can show you.” Teach a man to fish, and all that rhetoric. If the boy was getting picked on he might as well have what it took to fight back. “Come now, wand up. Let’s see your stance.”
He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, all of his swearing is usually just in his head, so it startles him when the Professor swoops in to save them all from whatever his potion had turned out to be this time. With a hopefully proper enough contrite expression, he mumbles an apology but hesitates on his answer, because he’d noticed his latest mistake when he’d glanced up and that’s what had really brought on the swear.
“Um–” His stutter is not usually this bad, but people with authority scare him a little. Sort of.
The silence was nigh stifling, and with an entire class filled with youth and viscous substances, Severus simply did not have the time to be focusing undivided attention into one student. Frankly his attention needed to be on the whole class, so when Neville managed little more than a hum in his general direction, Severus let out an exasperated sigh and rapped the wood of the table lightly with his knuckles.
“Very well. An essay, then – and you will hang back at the end of class. We’ll get this yet, Longbottom. For now, try to identify three of the five ways you went wrong mm? You’ve got til the end of class to figure it out – come up once everyone’s cleared out and we’ll take a look at it together.”
Not wasting any further time, Severus swept off to tap another Gryffindor’s desk and raise a brow at a girl who had four too many porcupine quills in hand.
Severely Archived 