Potions - Chapter 2: Detention
Aug. 18th, 2009 02:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
slowfoxOK, this is the sequel fic to Potions, a 6th year AU fic which features Ron/Hermione and Harry/Parvati. Obviously, since it's a sequel, it's beneficial if you read the first instalment before proceeding...
To whet your appetite for the cut, Harry, Parvati, candlelight. Aw - what more could you want?
Summary: Harry, Parvati, Candlelight... unfortunately, Snape's there too.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and assorted publishers own Harry Potter.
Time, reflected Harry, was a strange sort of thing. The clock in Gryffindor had taken an age to circle from 7.30 through to half eight, but then, once there, it had seemed to speed up with scant regard for the fact that he had a Transfiguration essay to finish before traipsing down to the Potions classroom for his detention with Snivellus. At eight inches short and ten minutes to, he resigned himself to having to finish McGonagall's essay on his return from the dungeons, and started to clear things from their table into his bag.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, clearly getting ready to launch into one of their rehearsed conversations, but just as Hermione had opened her mouth to speak, Harry held his hand up to forestall her: "Don't. I know. It's my own fault. It won't happen again," he said, dully.
"Well," ventured Hermione, hesitantly. She looked on the verge of expanding upon this opening, but evidently thought better of it.
"Don't let him get to you, mate," advised Ron, which Harry thought was a bit rich, given his best friend's track record in resisting provocation.
Not to mention a bit redundant: Snape? That miserable git? Get to him? Hardly!
"We'll be here when you get back," Hermione promised, quill poised over parchment, but eyes looking straight up at Harry as he stood.
"Cheers, guys," acknowledged Harry, before closing his eyes as he steeled his resolve. Puffing his cheeks as he exhaled slowly, he glanced across the Common Room towards Parvati, ensconced as usual with Lavender in their alcove across from the fireplace.
Wincing slightly at the recollection that the mistake that had resulted in their joint detention had sort of been his fault, Harry weaved his way through the clusters of tables to fetch her. Genuine mistake, disproportionate punishment: Snape all over.
"Hey," announced Harry, unenthusiastically, noting the Star Charts spread out between the two friends, and realising that he needed to get his Divination Studies homework sorted by Thursday; Thursday evening was taken up with Quidditch practice, and Trelawney was first thing on Friday. Life was certainly busy in sixth year.
"Is it time, then?" asked Parvati, glumly, whilst simultaneously sweeping up her quills (she was writing in three different colours), books and papers.
"Yep," confirmed Harry, his own lack of enthusiasm plumbing new depths as he wondered exactly what kind of vindictive pubishment he was about to have inflicted upon him. Oh, indeed, there were two of them - Parvati was in detention with him, but he was under no illusion: Snape's detention would be all about Harry; Parvati was just an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire.
Unsurprisingly, the corridor was a fair bit cooler than the Common Room had been, and as the portrait swung shut, cutting off the ambient noise of Gryffindor conversation, the castle suddenly seemed a much emptier place. Wondering whether they should have brought their cloaks (Parvati had stretched the sleeves of her jumper over her fingers), the two sixth years set off down the stairwell.
For a brief moment, Harry reflected that it was ironic that their detention required them to travel virtually the entire height of the castle, from Gryffindor Tower down to the foundations, before he realised that it wasn't ironic at all. Of course Snape would have picked a time that would almost guarantee that he and Parvati would have to walk as far as possible, in as miserable conditions as he was able to muster under the circumstances.
"Are detentions usually this late?" asked Parvati as they hurried past Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "It's just... I've never actually been in detention before," she confessed, as though this was some kind of deficiency on her part.
"No, not usually," explained Harry, who had - unwittingly - become something of an expert on Hogwarts discipline. "Snivellus just wants to make our lives as hard as he can."
"Snivellus? I've never heard him called that before..."
Harry winced. "Um, yeah. No," he agreed, fluently. "Sirius used to call him that."
"Sirius Black?" They were descending another spiral staircase now, torches on wallbrackets providing illumination, but little in the way of heat. "Didn't he... wasn't there... in The Prophet, last term?"
Harry really didn't want to get into a conversation about Sirius. Or the Ministry of Magic. Or Prophecies. Not right at that moment. Not with Parvati Patil. Not when they were about to spend what was bound to be a thoroughly unpleasant hour or so under Snape's beady glare - the same Snape who could have changed everything, from finding Mr Crouch before the Third Task to preventing that ill-fated 'rescue mission' at the end of the previous year. He really didn't need all that swimming around in his head as well.
Parvati grabbed hold of his forearm, making him stop and meet her eyes: "Are you OK, Harry?"
Harry reminded himself that it wasn't her fault - she didn't know about Sirius, and the events surrounding the fiasco in the Ministry of Magic had been sufficiently garbled in their retelling that the truth remained well hidden. He raised his free hand, and took a breath, preparing to launch into an explanation - as best an explanation as he could manage in the minute or so that they had before they reached Snape's lair.
And he almost told her, he really did. And the thing that stopped him wasn't that he didn't want to tell her, more that there wasn't time: if not to actually relate the words so much as to absorb the content. He closed his eyes, willed himself to be calm, and then, with a nod of his head, indicated they should continue on their way: "Let's just get this over with...."
The door was ajar, but Harry rapped his knuckles twice to announce their presence at 8:59 and 45 seconds, so that Snape wouldn't have the opportunity to heap further misery upon them on the pretext of punishing lateness. It was almost pitch black in the room - there were four candles hovering over a single desk, upon which stood four metal buckets, and light seeped out from Snape's office, briefly, before a black-robed figure with dank, greasy hair filled the doorframe, beady eyes reflecting glints of light from the four candles that were, temporarily, almost the sole source of light in the dungeon.
"Potter. Patil," acknowledged Snape, remaining motionless.
"We're here for our detention," explained Harry, resenting having to offer such a superfluous statement, since he was very much of the belief that the fewer words he exchanged with the Potions Master, the better.
"Believe me, Potter, I am well aware of the reason for your presence here."
This, in Harry's considered opinion, was no great trick, since it was Snape who'd set the detention in the first place. Nonetheless, he wasn't quite so stupid as to observe this fact outloud, and settled for waiting instead for the Head of Slytherin to explain what it was the two of them were to do.
As it turned out, 'explain' would be stretching definitions a bit: "One bucket each. You may leave when you have finished. No magic. Not. One. Sound."
With sinking heart, Harry turned to look at the only illuminated table in the room, the four buckets suddenly taking on an altogether sinister air.
"Do I make myself clear?" enquired Snape, acidly.
"Yes, Professor," chorused Harry and Parvati dully, but in not quite sullen enough a fashion to warrant reproach.
"Then get on with it. I have work to do." So saying, Snape spun around and headed back into the confines of his lair, his robes swirling about him like some demented bat.
Harry and Parvati shared a resigned glance in the half-light. Looking on the bright side, at least it didn't look as though Snape was going to be breathing down their necks for the duration. That had to be a good thing, right?
What little silver-lining Harry had eked out of the situation melted away as soon as they saw the contents of two of the buckets. Toads. Horned Toads. Dead Horned Toads. Lots of them.
Parvati, who, as she had mentioned already that evening, had no prior experience of detention at Hogwarts, let alone Snape's particularly vindictive variation on the theme, gave Harry a bewildered sort of look.
"Disembowelling," he whispered, anxious to ensure that they weren't overheard.
Parvati's face said it all aplenty: this really wasn't her kind of thing.
Trying to take command of the situation by affecting a state of detachment, Harry rolled up his sleeves and denoted the two empty buckets in turn: "Bodies, entrails."
Then he plunged his hands into the cold, wet, slimy gloop of deceased amphibians, and started work.
Parvati, almost shaking with revulsion, extended her hands into her bucket, eyes screwed shut. At length she withdrew one of the toads, and hesitantly tore it open. Tears rolled down her cheek.
This, though Harry, savagely, was low even by Snape's standards - the four candles gave only the minimum of light for them to see by, the buckets' contents were grisly, cold and slimy to the touch, and there were plenty of charms that would do this job in seconds. For sure, Snape could try and snipe at him all he wanted, but it wasn't fair to inflict this on Parvati too.
After ten immensely long, silent minutes, during which time he'd found his rhythm, a disconnected process of thumbs and fingers that seemed only distantly connected to his hands, Harry noted that Parvati had ground to a complete halt, staring at the dead toad she held in her hands, as if she didn't know what to do with it at all. Feeling fresh loathing for Snivellus and his childish games, Harry took both of Parvati's hands in his, and pulled them gently apart so that the toad dropped wetly back into its bucket.
Then he picked the whole thing up and poured the contents on top of his own: Snape had said they could leave when they'd finished their bucket. Parvati's bucket empty, she was free to leave, and he flicked both hands at her to shoo from the dungeon. It was testament to how upset she was that Parvati didn't stop to protest, but scurried out of the classroom without a word.
Harry didn't care. He plunged his hands deep into the pile of slime, and selected a dead Horned Toad: "Hello Snape," he hissed, mentally, at it, before savagely ripping it to shreds, binning its parts in their appropriate buckets.
He called the next toad 'Snape' too. And the one after that. And the one after that. And the one after that, too.
In point of fact, they were all called Snape.
Some time later, the man himself emerged from his lair, black gown flailing around him, to consider Harry's work. He peered at Parvati's empty bucket, used his wand to inspect the collected entrails, and then, with a single, wordless glance at Harry, left to return to his office, all the time unaware that Harry had been rending the Slytherin's namesake limb from limb before his very eyes.
It was nearly half eleven by the time Harry made it back into Gryffindor, sleeves still rolled up as he didn't want to infect his clothes with the slime of his bested foe. As promised, Ron and Hermione were still up, waiting for him.
"What was it like?" asked Hermione, anxiously. "Parvati was in such a state..."
"Git," stated Ron, flatly, there being no need to expand upon who he was talking about.
"Shower," was all the response he could manage: he was just too wound up to explain. So much for getting back to his Transfiguration essay; he'd have to finish that off in the morning.
He'd evidently kept them up longer than they'd planned - Ron had wished them both goodnight and was already heading towards the stairs. Hermione was giving Harry a considered sort of look.
"What?" he asked, tired.
"Parvati waited up for you, but... well, she was still upset," explained Hermione. "She said to say 'thankyou'."
To whet your appetite for the cut, Harry, Parvati, candlelight. Aw - what more could you want?
Summary: Harry, Parvati, Candlelight... unfortunately, Snape's there too.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and assorted publishers own Harry Potter.
Potions - Chapter 2: Detention
Time, reflected Harry, was a strange sort of thing. The clock in Gryffindor had taken an age to circle from 7.30 through to half eight, but then, once there, it had seemed to speed up with scant regard for the fact that he had a Transfiguration essay to finish before traipsing down to the Potions classroom for his detention with Snivellus. At eight inches short and ten minutes to, he resigned himself to having to finish McGonagall's essay on his return from the dungeons, and started to clear things from their table into his bag.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, clearly getting ready to launch into one of their rehearsed conversations, but just as Hermione had opened her mouth to speak, Harry held his hand up to forestall her: "Don't. I know. It's my own fault. It won't happen again," he said, dully.
"Well," ventured Hermione, hesitantly. She looked on the verge of expanding upon this opening, but evidently thought better of it.
"Don't let him get to you, mate," advised Ron, which Harry thought was a bit rich, given his best friend's track record in resisting provocation.
Not to mention a bit redundant: Snape? That miserable git? Get to him? Hardly!
"We'll be here when you get back," Hermione promised, quill poised over parchment, but eyes looking straight up at Harry as he stood.
"Cheers, guys," acknowledged Harry, before closing his eyes as he steeled his resolve. Puffing his cheeks as he exhaled slowly, he glanced across the Common Room towards Parvati, ensconced as usual with Lavender in their alcove across from the fireplace.
Wincing slightly at the recollection that the mistake that had resulted in their joint detention had sort of been his fault, Harry weaved his way through the clusters of tables to fetch her. Genuine mistake, disproportionate punishment: Snape all over.
"Hey," announced Harry, unenthusiastically, noting the Star Charts spread out between the two friends, and realising that he needed to get his Divination Studies homework sorted by Thursday; Thursday evening was taken up with Quidditch practice, and Trelawney was first thing on Friday. Life was certainly busy in sixth year.
"Is it time, then?" asked Parvati, glumly, whilst simultaneously sweeping up her quills (she was writing in three different colours), books and papers.
"Yep," confirmed Harry, his own lack of enthusiasm plumbing new depths as he wondered exactly what kind of vindictive pubishment he was about to have inflicted upon him. Oh, indeed, there were two of them - Parvati was in detention with him, but he was under no illusion: Snape's detention would be all about Harry; Parvati was just an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire.
Unsurprisingly, the corridor was a fair bit cooler than the Common Room had been, and as the portrait swung shut, cutting off the ambient noise of Gryffindor conversation, the castle suddenly seemed a much emptier place. Wondering whether they should have brought their cloaks (Parvati had stretched the sleeves of her jumper over her fingers), the two sixth years set off down the stairwell.
For a brief moment, Harry reflected that it was ironic that their detention required them to travel virtually the entire height of the castle, from Gryffindor Tower down to the foundations, before he realised that it wasn't ironic at all. Of course Snape would have picked a time that would almost guarantee that he and Parvati would have to walk as far as possible, in as miserable conditions as he was able to muster under the circumstances.
"Are detentions usually this late?" asked Parvati as they hurried past Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. "It's just... I've never actually been in detention before," she confessed, as though this was some kind of deficiency on her part.
"No, not usually," explained Harry, who had - unwittingly - become something of an expert on Hogwarts discipline. "Snivellus just wants to make our lives as hard as he can."
"Snivellus? I've never heard him called that before..."
Harry winced. "Um, yeah. No," he agreed, fluently. "Sirius used to call him that."
"Sirius Black?" They were descending another spiral staircase now, torches on wallbrackets providing illumination, but little in the way of heat. "Didn't he... wasn't there... in The Prophet, last term?"
Harry really didn't want to get into a conversation about Sirius. Or the Ministry of Magic. Or Prophecies. Not right at that moment. Not with Parvati Patil. Not when they were about to spend what was bound to be a thoroughly unpleasant hour or so under Snape's beady glare - the same Snape who could have changed everything, from finding Mr Crouch before the Third Task to preventing that ill-fated 'rescue mission' at the end of the previous year. He really didn't need all that swimming around in his head as well.
Parvati grabbed hold of his forearm, making him stop and meet her eyes: "Are you OK, Harry?"
Harry reminded himself that it wasn't her fault - she didn't know about Sirius, and the events surrounding the fiasco in the Ministry of Magic had been sufficiently garbled in their retelling that the truth remained well hidden. He raised his free hand, and took a breath, preparing to launch into an explanation - as best an explanation as he could manage in the minute or so that they had before they reached Snape's lair.
And he almost told her, he really did. And the thing that stopped him wasn't that he didn't want to tell her, more that there wasn't time: if not to actually relate the words so much as to absorb the content. He closed his eyes, willed himself to be calm, and then, with a nod of his head, indicated they should continue on their way: "Let's just get this over with...."
The door was ajar, but Harry rapped his knuckles twice to announce their presence at 8:59 and 45 seconds, so that Snape wouldn't have the opportunity to heap further misery upon them on the pretext of punishing lateness. It was almost pitch black in the room - there were four candles hovering over a single desk, upon which stood four metal buckets, and light seeped out from Snape's office, briefly, before a black-robed figure with dank, greasy hair filled the doorframe, beady eyes reflecting glints of light from the four candles that were, temporarily, almost the sole source of light in the dungeon.
"Potter. Patil," acknowledged Snape, remaining motionless.
"We're here for our detention," explained Harry, resenting having to offer such a superfluous statement, since he was very much of the belief that the fewer words he exchanged with the Potions Master, the better.
"Believe me, Potter, I am well aware of the reason for your presence here."
This, in Harry's considered opinion, was no great trick, since it was Snape who'd set the detention in the first place. Nonetheless, he wasn't quite so stupid as to observe this fact outloud, and settled for waiting instead for the Head of Slytherin to explain what it was the two of them were to do.
As it turned out, 'explain' would be stretching definitions a bit: "One bucket each. You may leave when you have finished. No magic. Not. One. Sound."
With sinking heart, Harry turned to look at the only illuminated table in the room, the four buckets suddenly taking on an altogether sinister air.
"Do I make myself clear?" enquired Snape, acidly.
"Yes, Professor," chorused Harry and Parvati dully, but in not quite sullen enough a fashion to warrant reproach.
"Then get on with it. I have work to do." So saying, Snape spun around and headed back into the confines of his lair, his robes swirling about him like some demented bat.
Harry and Parvati shared a resigned glance in the half-light. Looking on the bright side, at least it didn't look as though Snape was going to be breathing down their necks for the duration. That had to be a good thing, right?
What little silver-lining Harry had eked out of the situation melted away as soon as they saw the contents of two of the buckets. Toads. Horned Toads. Dead Horned Toads. Lots of them.
Parvati, who, as she had mentioned already that evening, had no prior experience of detention at Hogwarts, let alone Snape's particularly vindictive variation on the theme, gave Harry a bewildered sort of look.
"Disembowelling," he whispered, anxious to ensure that they weren't overheard.
Parvati's face said it all aplenty: this really wasn't her kind of thing.
Trying to take command of the situation by affecting a state of detachment, Harry rolled up his sleeves and denoted the two empty buckets in turn: "Bodies, entrails."
Then he plunged his hands into the cold, wet, slimy gloop of deceased amphibians, and started work.
Parvati, almost shaking with revulsion, extended her hands into her bucket, eyes screwed shut. At length she withdrew one of the toads, and hesitantly tore it open. Tears rolled down her cheek.
This, though Harry, savagely, was low even by Snape's standards - the four candles gave only the minimum of light for them to see by, the buckets' contents were grisly, cold and slimy to the touch, and there were plenty of charms that would do this job in seconds. For sure, Snape could try and snipe at him all he wanted, but it wasn't fair to inflict this on Parvati too.
After ten immensely long, silent minutes, during which time he'd found his rhythm, a disconnected process of thumbs and fingers that seemed only distantly connected to his hands, Harry noted that Parvati had ground to a complete halt, staring at the dead toad she held in her hands, as if she didn't know what to do with it at all. Feeling fresh loathing for Snivellus and his childish games, Harry took both of Parvati's hands in his, and pulled them gently apart so that the toad dropped wetly back into its bucket.
Then he picked the whole thing up and poured the contents on top of his own: Snape had said they could leave when they'd finished their bucket. Parvati's bucket empty, she was free to leave, and he flicked both hands at her to shoo from the dungeon. It was testament to how upset she was that Parvati didn't stop to protest, but scurried out of the classroom without a word.
Harry didn't care. He plunged his hands deep into the pile of slime, and selected a dead Horned Toad: "Hello Snape," he hissed, mentally, at it, before savagely ripping it to shreds, binning its parts in their appropriate buckets.
He called the next toad 'Snape' too. And the one after that. And the one after that. And the one after that, too.
In point of fact, they were all called Snape.
Some time later, the man himself emerged from his lair, black gown flailing around him, to consider Harry's work. He peered at Parvati's empty bucket, used his wand to inspect the collected entrails, and then, with a single, wordless glance at Harry, left to return to his office, all the time unaware that Harry had been rending the Slytherin's namesake limb from limb before his very eyes.
It was nearly half eleven by the time Harry made it back into Gryffindor, sleeves still rolled up as he didn't want to infect his clothes with the slime of his bested foe. As promised, Ron and Hermione were still up, waiting for him.
"What was it like?" asked Hermione, anxiously. "Parvati was in such a state..."
"Git," stated Ron, flatly, there being no need to expand upon who he was talking about.
"Shower," was all the response he could manage: he was just too wound up to explain. So much for getting back to his Transfiguration essay; he'd have to finish that off in the morning.
He'd evidently kept them up longer than they'd planned - Ron had wished them both goodnight and was already heading towards the stairs. Hermione was giving Harry a considered sort of look.
"What?" he asked, tired.
"Parvati waited up for you, but... well, she was still upset," explained Hermione. "She said to say 'thankyou'."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-18 02:15 pm (UTC)You have *so* got to continue this for another chapter or two!
There are so many little touches in there I like - calling each toad 'Snape' was good :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-08-18 03:05 pm (UTC)Sometimes Harry scares me... o_O
no subject
Date: 2009-08-19 07:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-20 07:36 am (UTC)And thanks :-) I'm a bit of a lost cause on the Harry/Parvati ship - it's my OTP, and I'm forever trying to come up with canon-plausible ways in which the two discover their destiny.