FanFiction by Lady Lorelei the Tarot Goddess

Warning: Please note that some stories may be rated NC17. If you are under the legal age of adulthood in your country of residence, or if you are offended by the idea of slash (stories containing male/male sex) or adult themes, including BDSM and other sexual kinks, please go and find something else to read.

Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom WoobieLurv


Rubeus Hagrid

Potter Universe




Because He Exists


Rated: NC17
Challenge: # 3. Harry and Neville get very, very drunk together. Antics ensue. for the Woobies of Destiny - Harry/Neville Fuh-Q Fest.

Disclaimer: The characters are copyrighted by the divine Ms. Rowling and the demonic WB. The prose is MINE!

Time: After OotP, 6th year, first Hogsmeade visit

Warning: Slash, fucking, sucking and wanking. Snape abuse, but you knew that from the title. Sorry if it comes across too American, but that’s what I am and we love Harry, too.

Note: This is my first ever slash or fanfic. It’s gotten into my blood. Really, I’m not a perv. I’m a nice girl. 



At the Hog’s Head Bar


Harry liked the dingy atmosphere of the Hog’s Head. He didn’t mind the stench of goat piss underlying the smoke of strange cigarettes, really he didn’t. It suited his mood perfectly as his first free day in Hogsmeade drew to a close. He’d tried. He’d honestly tried to come back to school with a better attitude, determined to study, carry on socially, make the most of his time here at Hogwarts. Then all the same things cropped up. Snape with his sneers, his unfair grading, his detentions. Snape with those snake-dead black eyes and that smoky voice, so carefully controlled, yet so full of passion it never shook, but the air - and god help anyone close enough to hear it - the very air shook with the passion of Snape’s voice. Harry found himself shaking a little now, in the shadowed darkness of a smelly bar.


He almost laughed aloud at the ridiculousness of his situation. He was in a place where they’d sell him firewhisky, but being under the invisibility cloak he had no way to order it without giving himself away.


"We’ll stay back, too," Ron offered that morning.

"Of course we will," Hermione chimed in, determined to ‘help’ him with his ‘authority problem’.


Once again it was too dangerous for Harry to act like a normal adolescent and go tripping through Hogsmeade spending money on chocolate frogs and butter beer. No, he had to be careful. Constant vigilance, my ass, he thought sourly. He’d cheerfully told them to go on ahead knowing he’d sneak out his dad’s invisibility cloak as soon as they were gone. But using the cloak was a poor substitute. He was in Hogsmeade but couldn’t make a sound, make a purchase; anything he did caused a scene. And it wasn’t his fault. None of it was his fault. It was all Voldemort’s fault. Hagatha, how he hated that slime! Anger blinded him for a brief instant till sunlight made him blink. 


Harry looked up as the door opened. It was getting time to head back to Hogwarts. He started to rise from his seat when he caught a peek under the dark hood of the man who had just entered. He stopped in his tracks.


What’s Neville doing here? This should be good . . .


Harry watched in amazement as Neville took a stool at the bar and signaled the tatty publican with three fingers, like he’d done this before. Many times before. Curiosity out of bounds, Harry crept close, thinking to give Neville a good scare.


The bartender set up three small glasses and half filled each from a bottle of firewhisky. Harry could smell it. The sharp aroma tickled his nose from several feet away. Riveted, he couldn’t even blink as Neville took up the first glass.


"For Cedric," he breathed and downed the shot in one swallow.

Neville heaved a great sigh and cleared his throat.

He reached for the second glass.

"For Sirius," he breathed. But he sipped slowly at this glass.


Harry felt tears start at his eyes. Grief washed over him. Why was Neville doing this? Toasting forgotten heroes alone in this nasty place. Then he sobered. He couldn’t very well do it in the Gryffindor common room, could he? No one was allowed any display of sentiment about the realities of the wizarding world. Madame Pomfrey would be sent for and a calming draught appear forthwith. Every one would try to comfort him, to stop the tears, to change the subject, and drag his mind away from this unbearable grief, and from the overwhelming threat facing them all.


Harry came to a snap decision and turned toward the door. He didn’t hear Neville’s third toast. Back against the door, he peered around. No eyes on him. He simultaneously whipped off the cloak with his left hand and opened the door with his right stepping forward as though he’d just come in.


"Hey Neville!" he said brightly.

Neville returned his usual deer in the headlights look, caught in the act.

"Buy you a drink?"

"Harry! You aren’t supposed to be here!"

"Well I am here," he commented calmly and climbed astride the stool next to Neville’s. "Firewhiskey for me, and one for my friend here," Harry said to the barman.


Without a word a new glass was set up in front of Harry. The barman half filled it and then one of Neville’s already used glasses.

"Bottom’s up!" Harry said cheerfully and upended the glass. He had a small moment to wonder at his stupidity as the fire hit his tongue and before it hit the back of his throat. Then he was coughing, realizing that Neville had got it down so neat because he was used to it.


"Harry, are you all right?" Neville cried in fear, pounding Harry’s back.


Harry blinked and fought for breath trying to wave off Neville’s concern.

"Just went down the wrong way", he managed to choke out.


They both reclaimed their stools and sat looking at each other. Breathing.


"Yeah, it does that sometimes," Neville said quietly. He looked away from sparkling emeralds, the only bright thing in this dingy hellhole of a bar. The only bright sparkle in his life it seemed at times. "I’ve had enough, I can’t drink that." He nodded toward the last shot.


"All right", Harry said and reached for it. Warmth spread through his belly and slowly on through his limbs as he took up the glass, "I’ll sip it."


Warmth continued to loosen his joints as he carefully sipped the golden brown liquid.


"We’ve got to get back soon. They’ll miss us at dinner," Neville breathed looking anxiously at Harry. The shock of Harry’s sudden appearance seemed to wear off into warm camaraderie. For once Ron and Hermione weren’t between him and Harry. Nothing was between them.


"Yes, I know." Harry took another sip. He gazed at Neville noting the firmness in what used to be a round face. Suspecting firmness in lots of other areas he’d also never noticed in his friend, he had a sudden idea. With a mischievous wink to Neville, he turned to the bar and said, "A bottle to go, please."


"Harry, you’ll get in big trouble if you bring that into Hogwarts!" Neville hissed.


"Not if I’m not caught." Harry tossed off the last drop of firewhisky and picked up the bottle. He leaned close to Neville, a plan hatching even as he spoke it. "Wait till the others are asleep, then sneak into my bed and we’ll finish this off tonight." He whirled and left.


Neville gulped staring after him, then raced for the door. Out on the street, long afternoon shadows painted the shops of Hogsmeade dull shades of slate and charcoal. Harry was nowhere to be found.



Dining Hall - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry


Thankful for his little visit to the Hog’s Head, Neville maintained what everyone thought of as his normal jovial demeanor throughout dinner. Faces flushed from the fresh air and long walks of a day in Hogsmeade surrounded him, stifled him. So close, yet not close enough to touch. He watched from a firewhisky fortified distance as the reigning king of Gryffindor 6th years held court, laughing and smiling, trading jokes, tossing buns across the table. As usual, Ron was on one side and Hermione the other. Neville didn’t dare sit across from Harry. Too afraid he’d get lost in those green eyes, should they ever fall on him, even through mere happenstance. No, sitting across from those eyes was to risk discovery of feelings he barely understood himself, and would never act on.


Neville smiled when a bun hit his head. He picked it up and tossed it back the way it had come, then laughed as it caught Ron on the ear. He was three seats down from Harry, couldn’t even eavesdrop on what he just knew was inane conversation with Hermione. Did none of them care? None of them seemed to recognize that Harry was changed by the things that had happened to him. There was no going back to life before Voldemort’s reincarnation. It had to hover over Harry’s mind always, every moment of the day - the prophecy, Voldemort’s link through the scar, Cedric’s murder, the knowledge that Harry’s own blood had brought this great evil back to life, Sirius’ death. Did no one else understand? All his so-called friends wanted to do was distract him!


Headmaster Dumbledore finished announcements. The students were dismissed. Neville shuffled out with the rest. A hand caught his arm. He looked into green eyes so close beside him he could see each fleck of color that blazed outward from the black pupil. Finally he noticed black eyebrows drawn up in inquiry. He’s asking me about tonight.


Neville nodded once shallowly, but sharply.


A wink was his reward. Then Harry was gone in a swirl of black robes.


Neville stumbled into the back of the student in front of him. Heart racing, suddenly gasping for air.


"Get off me, you toad!" Draco snarled, "Before I turn you into one!"


An aristocratic sniff followed Neville as he split off to head toward the Gryffindor common room with a light eager step.


Midnight Gryffindor House


Harry sipped firewhisky straight from the bottle in the dark. Even breathing sounded throughout the room. Had Neville dropped off too, forgetting about their meeting? Harry stifled a giggle. Oh but he had an evil plan. He wanted Neville to share it with him. And he wanted to learn more about this Neville he’d never seen before. This Neville who strode right up to the bar in the Hogs’ Head and downed three whiskys  neat.


After seeing Neville with his mother in St. Mungo’s Harry realized there was a lot more to Neville than met the eye. And now he realized that of all his friends, Neville was probably the only one with half a clue about what Harry himself was going through. Terrified of what Voldemort meant to do to everyone, constant reminders of what he’d already done to the people who were closest to Harry. And to Neville.


"Are you awake?" Neville’s soft whisper sounded outside the heavy velvet bed curtain.


Harry reached toward the sound and held the curtain open. Neville climbed up on the bed beside him. Harry reached around Neville awkwardly with his wand, and pulled the curtain to meet its neighbor.


"Silensus," he whispered then put his wand back in its sheath at his waist.


"What’s that?" Neville whispered.


"Silence charm. Now we can talk normally." Harry replied. He moved back to find the whisky and settle himself once again. "Just don’t disturb the curtain or it will dissipate the charm."


"Okay, "Neville nodded as he tried to find a comfortable way to sit.


Harry regarded Neville’s awkward perch then patted the spot beside him. "Come here, get comfortable and help me finish this." He waved the bottle, still mostly full.


Neville crawled up to the head board and sat back against it. He sighed and took the bottle, upending it like a pro.


"When did you learn to drink like that, Neville?" Harry asked in what he hoped was an admiring tone of voice. Privately he was shocked and perhaps a bit horrified. Neville a drunk? All this time?


"At my father’s knee, as they say," he laughed, partly at his comment and partly at the way his voice broke with adolescent hormones.


Harry gasped in shock.


"No, no, it’s not that bad," he waved away his outrageous statement. Harry took the bottle. "When I was a tot - Gran told me this - I used to want whatever everyone else was drinking. Dad liked a spot of firewhisky of a night. and once, to teach me a lesson you know, he let me have some. I drank it down and smacked my lips they say."


Neville looked at Harry, meeting his eyes, then looked to the foot of the bed.


"I don’t drink. Not really. A few times over the summer when Gran’s out. And then like today, just a nip at the Hog’s Head." He sighed and seemed to relax against the headboard. Then he sat up and turned toward Harry. "But never like this! Never sneaking a bottle into the dormitory!"


Harry smiled and passed the bottle back. He’d hadn’t taken any. "First time for everything. In fact this is my first time sneaking a bottle in."


"Oh," Neville said sounding vaguely disappointed.


Harry gaped as he watched Neville’s throat move, marveling that he drank it like it was pumpkin juice. Then he spoke again. "But the reason I asked you here is to find out how you really feel about a certain potions professor."


Neville sent Harry a frown along with the bottle. "Hate is too soft a word."


Oh goooood, Harry purred to himself. This was just what he wanted, someone just as enraged at the potions professor as he was, just as spiteful, and just as willing for payback, but gosh Neville wasn’t near as drunk as he was. The few sips he’d had were making him dizzy. He sipped once more and handed the bottle to Neville who drew another full swallow.


"Loathe doesn’t seem to quite capture it either," Harry agreed. "Want to help me do something about it?" He shook his head when Neville offered the bottle. "Give the esteemed professor a little of his own nasty potion?"


Neville automatically took a swig before replying. "What could we do? He’s very sharp, our greasy bastard. Quite a powerful Dark wizard in his own right."


"Yes, but he’s sleeping right about now, isn’t he?"


"Oh Harry! You aren’t thinking of going down to his dungeon right now, are you? We couldn’t do that. We’d get in so much trouble."


"Neville my friend, you are adorable when you stutter," Harry smiled, amazed at his own cheek. Must be the whisky talking. Neville would understand. He didn’t seem to mind, or even notice. "That’s why I need you. Be sure, he’ll get whoever stands in the door way, - that’ll be me - but whoever is behind that will hit him with a Petrificus."


"But he’ll see us. He’ll know who we are. And he’ll go straight to Dum--"


"No worries, Neville. Lee taught me a charm that will mask our voices. And as for seeing us, I have my dad’s invisibility cloak. Snape will never know what hit him. Or who! Are you in?"


1 am Gryffindor House


Neville felt his heart pounding. Whether from the heat of the firewhisky, the excitement of attacking Snape, or the promise he wanted more than anything to see in those green eyes, he didn’t know.


"Are you in?"


This was it. What he’d wanted for so long. Harry was inviting him into the inner circle. His inner circle. The direction of his life hung at a cusp for a brief instant.


"Okay, Harry. I’m in. But what do you want to do once we petrify him?"


"That’s where it gets fun!" Harry’s eyes gleamed in approval and friendship. Neville didn’t dare see anything more in the feelings behind those shiny bright emeralds, didn’t dare see a depth of interest and awakening curiosity, did not for one moment allow himself to see hope mirroring his own.


2 am Hallway in the Dungeons


"Vox mystificus," Harry whispered, wand pointing at his own throat. They stood deep within the dank dungeons at the door to Snape’s private quarters. He pointed his wand at Neville’s throat. Neville heard what sounded like a different person whisper the charm. The air was close underneath the heavy cloak.


"Yes," Neville replied. This was a bad idea. He knew this was a very bad idea.

Harry knocked loudly on the wood door.


They waited.


Harry had his arm raised to knock again.


Suddenly the door whipped open.


"Petrificus totalus!" roared from three throats.  Two dull thumps sounded as both Snape and Harry hit the floor. Neville gasped through an alcohol-laced adrenalin haze in mixed relief and fear. He bent to keep Harry covered by the cloak and whispered, "Finite incantatum."


Harry rose quickly and laughed. "Okay now for part 2." Neville heard Harry’s zipper and clumsily reached for his own. "C’mon now, don’t be shy. There’s nothing he can do but lay there and take it like the bitch he is."


Neville pulled out his shrinking member and gave it a valiant wank. Harry was going to town, hand moving in a blur. Neville giggled. They were standing over the Potions Professor, dicks in hand wanking for all they were worth.


Harry’s laughter joined his, then his breath caught. Harry’s head leaned back against Neville’s shoulder. It seemed he stopped breathing at all, as though he was suddenly caught in a body bind, But that passed as soon as it came. And then Harry came. His exhalation loud under the invisibility cloak. 


Come spurted all over the green silk night dress.


Neville doubled over in a full fit. "I can’t do it," he choked out between giggles.


"Yes you can," Harry’s mystic voice was suddenly fierce in Neville’s ear. Harry’s hot breath right in Neville’s face. Harry’s hot hand tight on Neville’s cock. "You can spew all over this piece of shit!"


Neville’s head fell back. "Oh Merlin", he breathed. How exquisite. To be touched like this. And by . . . by Harry. Neville felt Harry’s hand behind his back supporting him as he began to lose balance and sway. He caught both arms around Harry and pulled himself close as he crossed over the brink. His lips met Harry’s. His come splattered Snape. His breathing slowed.


"Time to go," Harry whispered pulling Neville away from Snape. "Obliviate," he said wand pointed at Snape’s face, just to be sure.


They remained quiet until they were back up in Harry’s bedstead, curtains charmed to silence. Neville was grateful Harry’d invited him in again, but not sure he wanted to face what had happened own there. He’d pulled Harry into a kiss. Harry had wanked him off! But Merlin, he wanted to do it again. And again and again. There was one thing he wanted to know. "You didn’t tell me you were going to obliviate his memory."


"I just thought of it at the end." Harry said evenly, settling himself against the headboard. Neville maintained distance at the foot of the four poster. "I forgot how rare these cloaks are and even though he couldn’t prove anything, he’d know it was me using an invisibility cloak."


Neville shuddered in sudden fear. The whisky going sour in his belly. They’d come so close. He had nothing if he was thrown out of Hogwarts. Nothing but his Gran who constantly belittled him, thought him incompetent.


"It’s better this way. He wakes up in the morning with a headache covered in spume, wondering  who he shagged in his own doorway." Harry erupted into giggles. "You were brilliant Neville."


"I was?" Neville asked in confusion. He hadn’t been able to get his dick hard till Harry touched it. His faced burned in shame.


"Oh yeah. You petrified a fucking Death Eater! Bloody brilliant!"


Oh. He’d forgotten that part. He smiled sheepishly in acceptance of the praise.


"And as for the other, I’m sorry . . . " Harry trailed off.


"Sorry? For what?" Neville asked, suddenly filled again with apprehension. This is what it was like being around Harry. Being part of the inner circle. A rollercoaster of thrills and chills, exhilarated with victory one moment, defeated with despair the next.


"I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that," he looked across the length of the bed, searching for Neville’s reaction. "Shouldn’t have forced you at the end. You’ve probably had too much alcohol for one night."


"No Harry. It’s all right." He met Harry’s eyes. Time for true confessions. "I’m glad you did Harry. I like it." And now he looked away. Then quietly, "I like you."


"Can I do it again, Neville? Can I touch you again?" Harry breathed from all that distance. But it seemed the temperature had gone up. The velvet curtains closed in smothering the air with too much heat.


"Oh yes, Harry. I’d like that."


Harry began moving. Neville looked at him in alarm. Trapped by green eyes, getting larger, closer, till all he could see was green, all he could feel was Harry. Harry touching him, kissing him, pushing up his jumper. Harry’s hands warm on his skin, all over his skin. And Neville reached out to touch Harry too. Felt the strong muscles of Harry’s back above him, of Harry’s legs against him. He felt Harry’s lips and teeth against his own tongue. Oh Merlin that it could be like this. That he could feel so alive, so right, so welcome and wanted. Neville suddenly understood why everyone made such a big deal about it. About being together, about sex. Dare he dream, about being in love?


Thoughts lost to sensation. Warm lips and a wet tongue dragged across his chest. Teeth gently nipped at a nipple. Teeth biting, nipping, turning into sweet hot kisses. A moan of longing and desire hummed against his navel. Was that his own moan? Their clothes were gone. Skin pressed against skin in luxurious length and with warm whispers. A prickly day old beard scratched across him tickling, thrilling, making his flesh sing.


So hard. He’d never been so hard before.


And then wet warmth surrounded him. Surrounded him. He was drowning in it. He couldn’t breath. He wanted to give, to open . . . to  . . . all to . . . "Harry!" he cried out.


He became aware that arms reached under him, holding him steady while that warm sweet mouth drained his last drop. Sudden despair filled Neville again. Merlin’s balls, how can I ever repay -I don’t know how - I could never be -


"All right, then, Neville?" Harry whispered as he began moving up Neville’s body. He crouched a moment looking into Neville’s eyes, then stretched out full length on top of him with a heavy sigh of satisfaction.


"Perfect Harry. Never better."


He felt Harry smile against his cheek.


"Then I wonder, Neville," the soft voice came again. "If you’d let me fuck you?"


Merlin, yes Harry. Anything you want. Any way you want it. Thoughts screamed through his brain, tripping over each other in a bid for release. Instead,  "I don’t know how," fell from his lips.

"I do, Neville. I can show you."

"But how do you know?"

"Hermione’s an excellent resource for all types on information. Not just class work, you know."

"You’ve done it with Hermione?"

"No! Ron’d kill me. Beside she’s not my type. And I meant books anyway. With pictures. Hold on a sec." Harry’s weight left him.


Neville gasped at the sudden feeling of loss. He watched as Harry rooted around in their tousled clothes. He came back toward Neville grasping his wand. Neville quaked at the wand aiming toward his now withered manhood.


"Sanitus lubricatum" Harry said and Neville  felt a very strange sensation up his backside.


Harry crouched over him again. He pulled at Neville’s leg, bending it toward Neville’s chest. Neville watched as Harry leaned in to kiss the back of his knee, caught in a gaze of green flame. He sighed as kisses traveled down his leg toward his jewels, but these were bypassed and


"WHAT!" Neville yelled when that remembered firm warm wetness poked at his most private part. He jerked, sitting up and Harry jerked back.


"I’m sorry, Neville. I’d never hurt you. I  thought you - "


"Harry I didn’t know. I mean. What are you doing?"


"It’s just that you’re so handsome, so luscious,  and I want you so much . . . what?" Harry looked at Neville in bewilderment. "I was kissing you." he answered simply.


"It felt . . ." realization dawned, and with it, desire.  "I  . . . it surprised me. It felt good." He relaxed against the foot board again, drawing both knees up and smiling wantonly at Harry. "It felt very good."


Harry bent to his task licking at Neville’s nethers. His hands softly stroked up and down Neville’s legs. He swirled his tongue around Neville’s hole. Around and around the rim. Neville moaned in abandon. Then Harry let his tongue find the center, find the entrance and he pushed.


A sharp gasp sounded from Neville. Hearing no further complaint, Harry continued driving his tongue in and out. Around and in.


He sat up on his haunches and met Neville’s passion-filled eyes with a searing gaze of his own. He softly twirled his index finger around Neville’s hole. Heat radiated from it. He pushed his finger in never breaking eye contact. He watched as Neville’s nostrils flared, as Neville inhaled mightily. Slowly, he worked the finger in and out, in and out, letting the lubrication spell do it’s work. Neville groaned and arched his back. Harry noticed Neville getting hard again. His own cock appeared to weep disconsolately. Soon, he promised it.


He pushed in another finger and worked it in and out slowly at first and then quicker.


"Ah, Harry," Neville cried with need.


Harry pulled his fingers out and leaned down over Neville, their bodies touching. "This is going to hurt you."
"I don’t care," Neville answered fiercely.

""Relax as much as you can." Harry held the tip of his cock against Neville’s ass. He pushed the head in a little, watching as Neville gasped and grimaced and sweat sprung out on his brow. Hagatha, how beautiful Neville appeared to him in that moment. He pulled out and tried again, pushing in a little further.


"Yes, please," Neville pleaded quietly.


Harry pulled out a little and pushed in a little further. Each time working with the lubrication spell and working himself a little deeper, until in a few minutes he was fully inside the wonderful body of Neville Longbottom. He sighed gustily and relaxed for a moment. "All right then?" he whispered.


"All right, but . . ."


"But what?"


"Please . . ."


And Harry got to work pulling out slowly, nearly all the way, then just as slowly pushing himself in, into the warm sweet open ass of his lover. "Oh . . . oh, Neville," he breathed.


Neville answered him with long drawn out shuddering groans. Harry quickened his pace. The groans became grunts, then pants. He quickened again. Neville began to squeal and cry, "Yes, Harry! Oh Merlin! Yes!"  Harry let go and slammed into Neville, gripping his hips, nailing him to the bed. His hard stomach pressed against Neville’s resurrected erection.


Neville screamed and Harry felt slipperiness between them, but Neville gripped him so hard and tight and wonderfulgoodfuckingbrilliantsweet. Harry tipped over the edge and fell screaming too. Fell down down down into his lovers arms, their bodies lying quietly, comfortably. He pulled out and rolled to Neville’s side, breathing deeply.


Potions Class


"Potter! You and Mr. Longbottom will partner on this identification potion. Mr. Weasley, you with Miss Patil. Here." Professor Snape glared as he handed each pair of students a small sample bottle, then strode back to the front of  the class, black robes billowing out behind him like huge bat wings. He whirled and pointed at the blackboard.


"Follow these instructions to the letter, and at the very end, add your sample to be identified. Any sample incorrectly identified means zero marks for the day. You may begin."


Neville’s eyes met Harry’s in fear. He gaped at the small bottle in his hand. "He knows, Harry. He knows," he whimpered.


"He knows nothing," Harry smiled confidently. Or at least he won’t by the end of this class.


Time passed. Harry chopped diligently. He had quite a pile of absinthe root, lambs ears, and squirrel tails. He leaned toward Neville. "Sneak this into Hermione’s cauldron."


Neville glanced at him in panic, but accepted the slimy handful of ingredients.


"Hermione," Harry leaned over toward her and Seamus. Neville started around their other side. "Did you know Neville and I are fucking?"


Hermione, Seamus, Ron, and Lavender all faced Harry, riveted by this revelation.

Neville seemed the first to move as he regained his place at Harry’s side. "Merlin’s short hairs, Harry. Did you have to out us to the whole class?"


"Silence!" Snape shouted from the front of the classroom. "Stop stirring. Your potions should be mirror bright." He began striding down the row of benches. "Add the sample now and watch for a shape of the original to be revealed."


Hermione grunted in surprise. Her potion was mirror bright a moment before. She sighed and added the sample. Samples around the room plopped into potions.


Hermione’s cauldron exploded.


Every cauldron in the classroom one after the other down the row of lab benches, like a 21 gun salute.

"Zero marks! For all of you!" Snape was so angry spittle flew from his frothing mouth.

"But I know I didn’t add too much wormwood. I know it!" Hermione was close to tears.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!"

"But Professor!" Hermione protested.

"Silence! Unless you want to lose your house 50 more." Snape seemed to regain some measure of equilibrium. "Clean up this mess immediately or I’ll have you all back tonight for detention."


Gryffindor House


Later in the common room Hermione confronted Harry while Neville and Ron looked on. "And the extra squirrel tail sent the magic leaping from cauldron to cauldron. That’s why they all went off, one after another. I understand how you did it now. What I don’t understand is why." She paused for breath, shooting an appealing glance toward Ron and Neville for help. "Why do you purposely antagonize a professor?"


"Not just a professor, Hermione," Harry answered holding back a smirk. "Snape."


"Yes, but why. He’s only ever tried to help you."


Harry’s eyes narrowed. She believed it. She honestly believed in the greasy haired git. There was no use blowing up in another angry tirade about what Snape had done to him, to Neville, for so many years.


"Because he exists," he breathed.


"Too right," came from Ron’s direction.


"C’mon Harry," Neville said quietly close to his side. "It’ll be all right." He led Harry away from the others, toward the stairs to their bedrooms. "Let's forget all about him."


"Brilliant idea, Neville."



The End


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