Impending Doom

"I wonder if Professor Snape's okay?" Harry wondered aloud in Herbology the next afternoon.

Ron started sniggering. "I can't believe he got knocked out by his own shoe!" he laughed.

"Well ... it did look pretty sore," said Harry doubtfully, feeling inexplicably concerned for his most hated teacher. Perhaps it was the manic gleam he had in his eyes. He hoped Snape wasn't losing it. It was a frightening thought.

"I think he was trying to kill me," said Neville fearfully. He was sharing a table with Harry, Ron and Hermione where they were attempting to feed a baby Venomous Tentacula without being bitten. As it was unusually dark outside, it was proving difficult.

Ron snorted. "Don't be thick, Neville. He was probably just ... well ... I dunno what he was doing, but whatever it was, he was not trying to kill you. Probably just torture you a bit ..."

"Ron!" scolded Hermione. "He wasn't trying to torture or kill you, Neville."

Ron grinned. "She's right, mate. He might be a slimy git, but he wouldn't do anything that extreme."

"Well, he will now!" Neville fretted, almost losing a finger to the vicious, snarling plant. "He was unconscious for ages!"

"He won't," reassured Harry. "It wasn't your fault." He felt distinctly unsure of his claim, however, thinking of the insane gleam in Snape's eye...

"He tripped over Trevor!" hyperventilated Neville. "He might kill him instead! He's tried before!"

"He won't," Hermione said forcefully. "He won't go anywhere near Trevor."

"Can I have a volunteer to take these Mandrake roots up to the hospital wing, please?" Professor Sprout asked the class. "Don't worry - they're only babies so as long as you wear earmuffs you'll be fine. I've put a sound-proofing charm on the crate, too, just in case. Longbottom?"

"Yes Professor," said Neville miserably. He accepted the proffered pink fluffy earmuffs with the air of someone resigning himself to a very sticky end and disappeared out into the growing darkness.

"Poor Neville," sighed Hermione as he left. "Do you think he believed me?"

"Nope," said Ron. "We all know he's as good as dead."

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

I gingerly felt the enormous purple goose egg on my forehead, grimacing at the bolt of pain that shot through my head. It looked ridiculous. After glowering at my reflection for a while longer, I decided that I couldn't simply scare it away. I'd have to be patient.

I was having an internal debate over whether or not to go to the Headmaster about Longbottom when Poppy Pomfrey's voice screeched across the room. "Severus! What are you doing out of bed?" She stomped over and began shooing me away.

"Dammit, Poppy, I'm fine!" I growled, irritated at the fact that she was treating me like some common...child. "Now will you please stop this infernal smothering! I--"

"Concussion is not my idea of fine," snapped Poppy. "Stop being such a difficult patient and get back into bed, or am I going to have to levitate you there?"

Not having my wand on me and resisting the urge to launch myself at her like a bat out of hell, I grudgingly crawled back into bed. I didn't want to have to face further humiliation at the hands of Poppy. I kept my mouth stubbornly shut while she tried to feed me a disgusting-smelling brown spoonful of headache potion. "Open up!" she demanded irritably.

I turned my head away obstinately, only to have it forcefully yanked back round, causing my vision to blur for a split second. I groaned.

"You see?" shouted Poppy triumphantly. "You're concussed!"

I was outraged. I was no such thing. And having one's head snapped painfully in the opposite direction from the one it wants to go in may well cause temporary blurring of vision, but that doesn't necessarily make one concussed. "Only because you--" I broke off abruptly as Poppy took that opportunity to stuff the potion violently down my throat. I sat for a moment, gagging and choking while Poppy surveyed me with a satisfied look on her face. Duped. By a mediwitch. Mother would be ashamed.

"You're obviously ill," Poppy said haughtily. "You can barely even swallow..."

I stared. "What?!" I screeched indignantly. "If you hadn't tried to force the whole spoon--"

"I'll have none of your antics, Severus Snape," she interrupted, frowning and wagging an admonitory finger at me. "I remember, even as a boy you were a difficult patient. That time Sirius Black hexed boils all over you, you insisted on trying to heal them yourself. And do you remember what happened?"

She was speaking to me in the same tone of voice she used for misbehaving first-years. I glared at her. "Yes," I snapped, offering no further comment upon the matter. I had no desire whatsoever to relive it.

"You accidentally gave yourself rabbit ears and had to keep them for a week. Now, unless you wish to go through another experience like that, I suggest you accept my help. I'll be back in an hour with some soup for you."

I shot her my most potent Death Glare as she departed, which she chose to ignore. All I wanted to do was go back to my dungeons. I had absolutely no intention of giving myself foolish looking ears, rabbit or otherwise. Especially not cutesy, fluffy, white things, one of which keeps flopping "adorably" over one eye. Bertha Jorkins had regretted her use of that particular adjective, however, when she found that her bed was mysteriously full of spiders one night. I lay back and contemplated my misery, but gave up after a few minutes. I needed to move.

Checking Poppy wasn't lurking in the shadows, waiting to apprehend me for the heinous crime of getting up and walking around, I stood up slowly and stretched. I wandered over to the shelf of potions across the room and had a rake about, seeing how far Poppy's competence in the art of potion making had progressed. Not far, by the looks of things. If she keeps this up she's going to find herself in Azkaban for mass-poisoning, I thought spitefully.

A knock on the infirmary door grabbed my attention, and I hid in Poppy's office, peering out through the gap between the door and the doorframe. Longbottom! No! He had come to finish me off. Panicked, I grabbed the nearest object, some sort of wooden ornament, and prepared to get him before he got me. A direct assault. Kill or be killed. Survival of the fittest and all that. Although, the word 'fit' could scarcely be used to describe me in my current state. Trembling, I crept silently out of the office. Longbottom was wandering around, checking Poppy was gone and carrying a crate of something. Probably torture devices. It was now or never. With an enraged shriek I launched the object across the room, watching with satisfaction as it careered towards Longbottom's head. My satisfied expression turned to one of horror, however, when I realised that the object had turned round and was now heading straight at me. He deflected it! I should have--

SMACK! I howled in agony as it clocked me right on the bump on my forehead. My vision blurred again, and I couldn't seem to regain my balance. I could hear Longbottom coming closer, taking slow, deliberate steps. I writhed in agony, stumbling blindly around the room. Suddenly my foot caught onto something on the floor and I overbalanced and fell on top of it. There was a small cracking sound, and all of a sudden a cacophony of shrill, unearthly wails blasted out from the crate and filled the air. The last thing I saw before blacking out was Longbottom standing over me, a dark shadow.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~

Pain

. My forehead was thumping. A sharp, stabbing pain filled my very being. I groaned miserably. Let me die, I thought. I could hear distant noises, each one reverberating through my aching head. "It's okay, Neville." That was a soothing voice. Male.

"I confiscated that from Fred and George Weasley yesterday," said a painfully shrill female voice. "They were causing mayhem. I told Professor Snape to stay in bed. Honestly, imagine being out playing with toys when in that state..."

"Then what happened, Neville?" The soothing voice again.

"I p-put down the crate of Mandrake roots to check he was okay, but he s-s-sort of ... f-fell over it. Then the sound-proofing charm broke and...and...they started c-c-crying, so he got knocked out," said the voice I recognised as that of Longbottom tremulously.

"Ah." Headmaster. "Good thing you had your earmuffs on, Neville."

Good thing, indeed

. I shifted slightly and cried out at the pain shooting through my head and up my leg.

"Severus!" cried the voice I now knew as being that of Poppy. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've just been run over by a herd of rampaging Hippogriffs," I muttered thickly.

The Headmaster dismissed Longbottom and came over to my bed. "Well, Severus," he said worriedly. "You suffered quite a bump to the head tonight."

A bump to the bump to the head, actually

, I felt like saying, but couldn't summon the energy. I settled for a pathetically weak nod instead. Then I looked pointedly at Poppy and she made a hasty departure.

The Headmaster sighed. "Severus, Severus, Severus," he said, shaking his head, concerned showing in his eyes. "Whatever possessed you to throw a boomerang at Neville?"

A what?!

Oh ... I felt distressingly idiotic. Albus was watching me patiently. "Ididn'tknowitwasaboomerang," I muttered, annoyed at the Headmaster for the piercing, searching stare he was giving me and annoyed at myself for failing to come up with a less imbecilic answer.

"Obviously, but ... why?"

Why, indeed? "Er ..."

"I think--and Poppy agrees with me--that you may be suffering a slight ... confusion ... from the two, well, three now, head injuries you have sustained of late," he said carefully, obviously expecting complete outrage.

He wasn't to be disappointed. "I assure you, Headmaster," I snapped as loudly as the monstrous pain in my head would allow, "that I am feeling quite the contrary. I am completely in my right mind. I know whose fault this is. It's Longbottom."

"Now, Severus," said the Headmaster, sounding unusually stern, "Neville was the one who got help."

I snorted. Self-preservation. A common trait in a Dark Wizard. They're cowards. Albus continued. "Now, I know that you feel a certain amount of ... animosity towards Neville, especially due to recent mishaps, but he's been very apologetic about it all."

Apologetic that he keeps failing

, I thought furiously. He's pulled the wool over the Headmaster's eyes, too!

"Now," Albus patted my shoulder reassuringly. "Just you get plenty of rest. I'll find someone to temporarily take over your classes until you're your old self again."

With that, he left. I lay awake, positively seething. Longbottom. Filled with fresh, furious determination, I decided that there would be no more sneaking around, no more head injuries. On my part, anyway. If I had to launch a full-on attack on Longbottom, then I would. He isn't going to know what's hit him.