Through the Dark

Chapter 2: Detention with Snape

Harry hurriedly went to the Infirmary and asked the Matron for a Stomach Relief Potion after Potions. Hermione told him that she and Ron will wait for him near the Great Hall, in the corner where they always meet. Harry only nodded and told them that he will see if Poppy will let him go.

Pomfrey checked on him and she told him that he did well, coming to her instead of wearing it down. Harry only nodded. He drank the contents of the vial, and Poppy said that he can stay as long as he needs to let the potion take into effect. She told him to take a nap if he can.

"I can't, Ma'am. Not yet, at least. I still have detention with Professor Snape," Harry explained. Poppy sighed and offered him a sympathetic smile.

"Maybe you can go back here for another series of check-up, Harry. I think we need to take a good look on that stomach. Perhaps on a weekend?" Poppy encouraged. Harry only nodded, too tired to argue or reason about him being just fine.

-----

Harry made his way to the dungeons and gulped as soon as the door to Snape's office came to view. It was situated at the end of a dimly lit hallway, which only made Harry even more nervous. He was thankful no Slytherins were present as he wandered around their domain.

Snape was carefully arranging his stores when his office alarm sounded. When Severus waved his wand to reveal whoever it was at the door, he smirked when he saw Potter's name flashed.

It seems that the Potter boy had some respect left for me after all.

"Enter," he said. Harry opened the door and tiptoed into the office. Snape eyed him from where he stood.

Harry was nervous under Snape's stare. Although the pain had dulled, it did not help a bit. In fact, the fact that he can feel the butterflies in his stomach actually made him prefer the pain over coming to Snape himself for detention. The last time he had detention with the man was three years ago, after he had blown up an expensive pewter cauldron Snape made him use because his Uncle destroyed his the summer before that term. Harry had always thought Snape made him use it because he didn't want to look like an uncaring teacher or the Headmaster told him to be patient with brats like Harry.

He didn't want to go into the possibility that the man knew the fact that his Uncle hated him.

Harry cleared his throat, "Good evening, Professor Snape. I'm here for your assigned detention."

"Do you honestly think I do not know that, Potter?" Harry bit his lower lip as Snape sneered at him, "I am not as forgetful as Dumbledore, or as stupid as you are."

Harry hung his head low, "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Snape grunted and stepped down of the ladder he was using to reach the topmost of the cabinet. He did so gracefully and the boy watched with fascination. Snape's eyebrow lifted, as if questioning. Harry immediately looked down, not wanting to meet his Professor's eyes. Snape went to the counter where cauldrons were lined up; some greasy, some grimy, others just plain dirty. Harry followed.

"You are to clean all thirteen of these cauldrons, Potter. Remember, they are of different materials. The designated cleaning materials you are to use on these cauldrons are plastered on the sink. Read carefully. Should you destroy, disintegrate or manage to scratch any of these, you can say your prayers and pleas, Potter. You shall answer to me!"

At the end of Snape's tirade, Harry gulped audibly and paled.

Really, a stomach ache or dropping Potions is better than... this.

"Begin. I will be back after a quarter of an hour." At the command, Snape disappeared through a door and left Harry all alone. With another gulp, Harry went to the counter and searched for the legend. Sure enough, there was a plaque plastered on the wall.

"Red Detergent for the gold ones, Blue for the pewter and iron . Green for the silver and Yellow for brown clay," Harry read. Hmm... Red, Blue , Green and Yellow, huh? Never knew Snape was a sucker for House Colors. And how matched are one another!  Harry mused. He decided that it was best not to think too much and let his hands get to work. Taking a pair of dragonhide gloves  hanging near the plaque, Harry rolled his sleeves and settled to work.

During the first few cauldrons, Harry was doing just fine. The detergents worked well and he found that he actually missed washing dishes for it made him think about many things. Besides, it was one of the few hours of the day that he was left alone on his own to work because at his Uncle's, it was usually the time of Dudely's favorite TV show. His Uncle was usually on the phone, pretending to talk to clients and his Aunt would go over to one of her friend's house to gossip, though making up excuses like borrowing waffle makers and random things.

But as he was about to start on his eighth cauldron, a pewter one, he realized that his abdominal pain was back with a vengeance. It took Harry a few moments just to steady himself, not wanting to be caught not working. He glanced at the clock and groaned as he saw it flash 7:30. Fifteen minutes more and Snape will be back.

I have to finish this! Harry's mind was filled with worried and panicky thoughts. He wanted so much to continue on. But the pain in his stomach made him tear up to the point that he cannot distinguish the shapes. With another heave of air, Harry reach for the blue detergent. Or so, he thought. Harry mistook the blue from the green. But before he could apply it, a hand grabbed his arm and Harry winced.

"You imbecile! " Snape was there, shouting at him and squeezing his hand to the point that Harry felt the blood pulsing, "You dunderhead! Haven't I told you to read the labels? To study the legends? Is it that hard, you idiotic boy?! Had you applied this, you could've blown the whole place, and yourself in the process! How brainless can you be?! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW TO DISTINGUISH THE COLOURS?!"

Harry was, for once in his life, truly, utterly scared. Severus Snape looked like a vampire, his black eyes piercing Harry. If looks could kill, Harry was sure to have melted under Snape's gaze. The man was still holding his arm. It hurt!

"Ah!" Harry cried. Not about his arm. He had suffered more than that from his Uncle, but from the wave of pain in his stomach. His reflexes made him strong that he managed to yank his right arm from Snape's hold and it went to clutch his abdomen.

Snape was taken by surprise. He was about to scold Potter when he saw the boy on the floor, crouching and clutching his stomach and panting, "Potter? What is it?!"

Suddenly, the boy's shoulders started to rise and he heard the boy taking a deep breath, as if he was drowning. Potter's breath became faster, his breathing ragged and labored and his face was filled with tears. The boy could not barely have a second when he took another lungful of air.

Snape didn't move a muscle. His blood ran cold. It was a numbing feeling, but after a few more ragged breaths, Harry Potter was in Severus Snape's arms. Harry grabbed Snape's arm and started squeezing them, as if it were a lifeline. With a hoarse voice and in between breaths, Harry struggled to say, "Can't. Breathe."

Within a split second, Snape was holding a Calming Draught and an Anti-Asthma Potion. He held to the boy's almost black lips and administered them. How Snape managed to do it, he did not know. All he knew was he needed the boy to breath, and fast.

Snape cursed as the Anti-Asthma Potion did not work. He tipped the second vial on the boy's lips.

"Work! Merlin's balls. I need you to work!" Snape did not even realize he was shrieking. Harry continued to have labored breathing for a few more seconds before he managed to take in air and swallowed. Then, he went limp.

The boy fainted. Snape felt the adrenaline leaving his system and he himself took in air. He leaned against the counter where the boy was serving detention a few moments ago and let the air out. He did not even notice that he was sweating profusely.

"Gods," Snape huffed. He took a few moments to settle himself then stood, the boy still in his arms and conjured a stretcher. He laid the boy on it and stalked off to the Hospital Wing.

Dear Merlin, he thought, I hope Poppy had finished her dinner.